Shyam Lama had just fallen asleep on the early morning of 28 September when he heard a loud bang outside his shop on the side of the highway in Dhading, 15km from Kathmandu. It had been r<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">aining incessantly for two days</a>, landslips and fallen trees had blocked the Kathmandu-Mugling highway. Many buses were stranded, and some of them were parked at a bend on the road in Jhyaple Khola, waiting for the debris to be cleared. The bang that Lama heard was another landslide from the mountain above falling near his shop and covering the highway with 4m of mud and stones. Some of the buses were damaged, and injured passengers were running for safety in the darkness and pouring rain. In the light of dawn, they could see the damaged buses heading to Kathmandu from the west. But it was not till later in the day that Lama and some of the other rescuers saw the top of another bus sticking out of the mud.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241008141044_a0b528829a4230da6b7b26102a42f0a061de6c26a4fb1d1e201dabfcfc647519" data-rendition-name="original" width="5726" height="3817" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  They dug through the slush to find 11 bodies. But then they spotted the tyre of another vehicle, then a van. Altogether 35 passengers perished that night in the three buses heading to Kathmandu from Chitwan, Butwal and Gorkha.&nbsp; “The buses were all stuck because the highway was blocked, and the landslide fell and buried them with the passengers sleeping inside,” Lama says. “If the debris up the road had been cleared in time, the buses would have been able to continue on to Kathmandu.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi">A flood of tears on the Rosi</a>, Archana Darji Archana Koirala runs a convenience store nearby, and was also awoken by muffled shouts for help almost drowned out by the sound of the rain on the tin roof. “In the darkness, I saw people escaping from two buses, some of them injured and covered in blood,” recalls Koirala. “I gathered up my little girls and ran for my life.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241008141044_ec79cc7198b54bad77c3f03bc1420ea64cb6776eaaec29581209614194b862fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="5680" height="3787" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> </figure>  Another shop owner Ajita Tamang, heard the landslide coming down and nearly burying her house. She ran with her mother to the nearby woods. Her shop did not survive. Krishna Tamang heard the sound of a bus windshield shattering, and went outside to check. &nbsp;He saw one of the buses half-buried in debris before it disappeared before his eyes, swallowed up by a fresh wave of mud. Unable to do anything to help, he ran up the mountain to save his own life.&nbsp; Shop owners and residents in Jhyaple Khola say that the landslide was so massive and came down so suddenly that the passengers in the vehicles probably did not even know what hit them. A week later, the mangled mass of the three buses are all that remain on the roadside, and excavators were trying to open the road for the expected heavy Dasain traffic on the arterial highway that connects Kathmandu to western Nepal. A visit to the site shows the mountain above scarred by open red wounds of landslides. The biggest slope failure originates in a local road about 100m above the highway and has brought down debris that was just dumped over the edge by bulldozers. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair">When the record-breaking rain came</a>, the mud turned into paste and raced down the mountain carrying tree trunks and large stones. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241008141044_64f6af7e300ed517f6bd161491a69d85706caed35839cfeee7c87e6671a8fdc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="1346" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>The bend on the highway where the landslide, triggered by a sub-standard road up the mountain buried three buses, killing 35 people on the night of 28 September. Other buses also blocked by another landslide further up the road were also damaged. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Typically, Dasain is the busiest time of year for businesses along the highway in Jhyaple Khola as people leave Kathmandu by busloads to get home for the festival. “We do not stay here for long anymore, we are already home before the sun sets,” says Krishna Tamang. “We fear another landslide will hit us at any time.” In July, a debris flow <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/100-101-102-hh5uvzf9">swept two intercity buses into the Trisuli River</a> along the Mugling-Narayangad Highway 60km west of here. Of the 62 passengers on the two buses, only three were able to swim to safety. Search and rescue teams recovered 27 passengers from the river in the aftermath of the landslide, but neither the buses nor the rest of the passengers have been found.&nbsp; A committee formed by the government to investigate the Simaltal disaster concluded that a new local road constructed farther up the mountain was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">mainly responsible for the debris flow</a>. The Jhyaple Khola mudslide was a repeat of the July disaster. Locals in Dhading say that the Department of Roads had just completed the retaining wall, and the debris from the excavation done to construct the road had piled up, which the rain swept down to the highway below.&nbsp; Similar unplanned roads constructed further above in Nagdhunga have also clogged up the culverts, which remain uncleared.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241008141044_d46e7f612ce53b0c3133219a36ab81c5ef8f7494dc002452580c086d70028652" data-rendition-name="original" width="2340" height="1560" loading="lazy" alt="jhyaple khola landslides"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  “This disaster occurred because of the locally elected representatives, the Road Department and the contractors,” says local business owner Shyam Kumar Lama. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/when-it-rains-it-pours-ksqprbu3">You cannot blame it on a natural disaster</a>." “They keep tearing down the retaining walls to build haphazard roads, and replace them with brick walls,” adds Lama. “How is a barely one-foot-thick wall going to stop a landslide?” Geologist Sri Kamal Dwivedi says that the Department of Roads has not heeded the geological risks in excavations for road expansion across the country. “The soil above Jhyaple Khola was loosened by torrential rain, causing a high-speed debris flow onto the highway below,” &nbsp;explains Dwivedi. “Additionally, the possibility of disasters like landslides increases when slopes are cut to make way for road expansion.” Transport expert Kamal Pandey says that disasters like the ones in Simaltal and Jhyaple Khola happen frequently because environmental risks are ignored during investments in road expansion. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers">The revenge of the rivers</a>, Shamshad Ahmad “New roads are dug up like it is some kind of competition,” says Pandey. “But as long as unmanaged excavation continues without plans in place to mitigate landslides, disasters like the one at Jhyaple Khola will continue to happen.” Indeed, this is not the first time a disaster of this scale has struck in Jhyaple Khola. In 2001, a similar debris flow from higher up the hill buried a vehicle on the highway below, killing nine people.&nbsp; Landslides of smaller scales occur in the area every monsoon, but they do not make it to the news. But even as they are used to the frequent landslides, there is now a new kind of fear among residents.&nbsp; “I am overcome with terror every time I look up to the overcast sky,” says Shyam Lama. “We will never be safe in this place as long as the mountains keep falling on top of us.” &nbsp;

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"The mountain fell on top of us"

Kathmandu Valley, once known for its bumper harvests of rice, has seen declining production because urban expansion is devouring once fertile rice fields.&nbsp; There are still some terraces on the outskirts of the city that have rice fields, but even these are threatened by new settlements. The same is true of Pokhara Valley, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/pokhara-tries-to-save-its-famous-paddy" target="_blank">home to Pokhreli, Jetha Buda</a> and other brands of indigenous rice. The middle of Asar is time for rice planting, and 29 June was the supposed to be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/not-so-soon-monsoon/" target="_blank">National Paddy Plantation Day</a>. It is a festival not just for transplanting paddy seedlings on water-logged fields, but also for jubiliation and merrymaking. This year, there was not much to celebrate on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-celebrates-paddy-planting-day/" target="_blank">Paddy Planting Day</a>. Only 10% of farms across Nepal have transplanted paddy seedlings, whereas the normal figure for end-June is double that.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240630100624_89fa0f1ab01aa249120c080bda65230d98bfd9799adf6f066b16c56cc1bae611" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice plantation Nepal"> <figcaption>An excavator makes way for land plotting even as a child prepares to plant rice saplings in Bhaktapur's Sipadol this week. </figcaption> </figure>  The monsoon has been starting weeks later than its usual arrival in Nepal in mid-June, which many experts <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-hits-himalayan-rice" target="_blank">blame on climate breakdown</a>. This year, the rains actually arrived a week early in the aftermath of Cyclone Remal, and unleashed floods and landslides in eastern Nepal in mid-June, while the western half of the country was enduring a prolonged drought. The clouds did advance up to central Nepal, but the rains fizzled out. When the monsoon did arrive in Kathmandu Valley on 27 June, it had been too little too late. Kathmandu Valley usually received 250mm of rain in June, this year the figure so far has been only 125mm. The chronic lack of subsidised fertiliser during the planting season due to an inefficient government procurement and delivery mechanism also meant that many farmers were not ready to transplant paddy even if the rains came. Rice is grown in Kathmandu and other mountaion valleys, in the Tarai and up to 3,200m in Jumla, which is famous for its nutritious <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/himalayan-red-rice-is-red-hot" target="_blank">red Marasi rice</a>.&nbsp; The Tarai is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepals-rice-economy" target="_blank">Nepal’s rice basket</a>, producing most of its paddy. Although the plains cover 15% of Nepal’s area, 53% of the population lives there. Here too, settlements along highways and major intersections are eating into rice fields.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240630100632_051ccb4df85ee10f1f44fc67a32b3d6666bf438c00b9f5a51ef2df5fab5a0b01" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice planttion in Nepal"> <figcaption>Kathmandu's unrestrained growth as seen from Halchok in 2020.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240630100632_68dff2295cf039e50ad743ece4bb1473fd55e9c36e571f92259a882a073b558e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Rice production in nepal"> <figcaption>In this photo from 2021, hills in the outskits of Kathmandu Valley have been cleared for land development. </figcaption> </figure>  So far this year, rice planting has started in only 3% of the area of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/grain-drain" target="_blank">Madhes Province</a> because of the delayed rains and a prolonged heatwave. The province produces a quarter of Nepal’s rice in a normal year. The western Tarai has been particularly badly hit by a heatwave that lasted into June with daytime temperatures soaring to 45°Celsius and staying there. Rainfed farms have not planted rice, and those that used to pump water from tubewells have not been able to do so because of a falling watertable.&nbsp; Outmigration from rural areas and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/agroecology-nepal-s-answer-to-climate-change" target="_blank">falling rice production</a> has become a chicken-or-egg story: is rice production falling because people are turning away from farming, or is declining paddy production driving people away from agriculture? The annual Rice Day has therefore become not a time for celebration, but a reminder of how much <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice/" target="_blank">Nepal is more dependent on the import</a> of rice than before. Nepal spent Rs35 billion last year to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-agro-imports-at-all-time-high/" target="_blank">import rice and paddy</a>, which was a slight decline from the previous year, but is still more than all its exports. Nepalis are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/are-nepalis-really-eating-more-rice" target="_blank">eating more rice</a> than ever before as people turn away from traditional grains like millet and buckwheat, and because of a falling poverty rate as well as the spread of the road network.&nbsp; Still, the country’s population growth rate is outpacing increase in rice harvests. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-price-of-rice" target="_blank">Rice productivity</a> has hit an all-time high of 3.8 tons/hectare with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nepal,2378" target="_blank">irrigation and mechanisation</a>, but total production is not increasing as much because of a decrease in area under rice cultivation. Nepal once used to be a rice exporting country. If current trends continue, Nepal will be spending nearly everything it earns from remittances in importing petroleum products and rice.

Pouring concrete on rice fields

Indra Bahadur Rana Magar, 29, boarded a bus with his parents on 30 May from Bardia to Rampur in the western Tarai. During the uncomfortably hot ride, Indra Bahadur sweated profusely. At the village of Hasulia, he could not take the heat anymore and got off and rested under the shade of a tree. He never woke up.&nbsp; “He died in his sleep,” recalled police inspector Lokendra Chand, who is certain Indra Bahadur died of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-heat-is-killing-us">heat stroke</a>.&nbsp; Earlier this week, Balram Magrati ,53, of Dhangadi suddenly fainted while working in an outdoor food stall. He was rushed to Seti Provincial Hospital, where he died. “Cases of people fainting and having breathing difficulties due to excessive heat are now common,” says Sher Bahadur Kamar, a physician at the hospital.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240621140644_8d2dffbed2e4f6c95b6c7bb1e6aae8761f6cca58f54f1b384a2bf0e70f545703.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240621140644_8d2dffbed2e4f6c95b6c7bb1e6aae8761f6cca58f54f1b384a2bf0e70f545703" data-rendition-name="original" width="1810" height="918" loading="lazy" alt="Heat wave western Nepal"> </figure>  The monsoon rains arrived in eastern Nepal on 10 June, bringing down the temperature, but<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon"> unleashed floods and landslides</a>. The monsoon was advancing across Nepal, but has stalled because of a resurgent westerly, and this means more delays in cooling rains coming to the sweltering western Tarai. Dhangadi and neighbouring parts of India have seen the maximum lingering at 45°C for weeks on end. Earlier, such high temperatures would only last a few days. “For the first time since 1996, we have also recorded the highest temperature. It was 44.1°C on 30 May, the minimum that day was 30.2°C,” explains Singal Chaudhary of the Mahakali Basin Field Office in Attaria. The office has since recorded near 44°C for days on end. As the monsoon approaches, increased humidity is making conditions worse. Children and the elderly are particularly vulnerable, and locals say they cannot live indoors either because of their corrugated tin roofs. The electricity also is off and on because of increased demand. On Thursday, Sethia Dagaura, 85, was in Dhangadi inside her neighbour’s house which is under construction. This has been her refuge for more than a month. “My house has a tin roof and it is too hot to live there, so I moved here,” she explains, fanning herself with cardboard. But even that blows on hot air. “It should be raining by now, maybe god is telling me this is the end,” she says.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240621140644_fa1e92b804a42612dd49272832fb6dd8639b226f38da3a71fc26eaf5f5ec6323.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240621140644_fa1e92b804a42612dd49272832fb6dd8639b226f38da3a71fc26eaf5f5ec6323" data-rendition-name="original" width="1689" height="918" loading="lazy" alt="Heat wave western Nepal"> </figure>  The heat in northern India has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/smoke-screen">ignited forest fires</a> in Uttaranchal, Himachal Pradesh, and also in the mountains to the north of here. But it has also dried the soil moisture and crops. The ground water table is also going down and wells are drying up. “Five out of seven taps in our village do not have water anymore, we go to the neighbour’s tap for drinking water,” says Rajkumar Choudhary, who lives on the outskirts of Dhangadi. Schools in Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur have been closed for three weeks due to the heat. Just as they were supposed to reopen, the closure has been extended at least until 25 June. According to the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/preparing-for-kathmandu-s-heat-waves">heat wave</a> may continue for a week more because of the westerlies blocking the monsoon’s progress. Until then, physician Kamar at Seti Provincial Hospital suggests staying in a cool place to avoid heat, drinking plenty of water and fluids, wearing light clothes and not going out in the afternoon sun.

Too hot to handle

In the first two episodes of this series, we looked at how <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/people-and-mountains-are-thirsty-in-eastern-nepal">climate breakdown has worsened the water shortage in eastern Nepal</a>, with rains failing and springs going dry.&nbsp; But there is a flipside. In the monsoon, there is also the curse of too much rain leading to destructive landslides, floods driving people out.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-crisis-drought-food-deficit-migration">Analysing meteorological and hydrological data from the past half-a-century in eastern Nepal’s Tamor River basin</a>, the big floods of 1963 and 1968 stand out with other less destructive monsoons in between.&nbsp; Nepal’s monsoons usually last 112 days from mid-June to mid-September, and its clockwork arrival and departure has inspired Nepali poetry and song. But climate breakdown has disrupted the timetable, and there have been years with highly unusual monsoons and floods. In 1968, the monsoon delivered more rain than usual in some places and less than normal in others, and the big floods actually came after the monsoon is supposed to have retreated.&nbsp; The national news agency RSS reported a damaging flood in Sunsari, the district in the plains where the Kosi River disgorges into the plains after confluence of the Arun, Sun Kosi and Tamor. Three days later, RSS reported that 500 cattle and 1,500 goats had drowned in Sunsari, and a child’s body had been found. And upstream in Leuti Khola, three people and seven houses were swept away. A week later, RSS reported again that seven people and 14 livestock had been killed by floods, and bridges as well as paddy ready for harvest were swept away. Even upstream in Olangchung Gola, three people were killed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010452_9fe3ea424cd644cb1f5a06a731f44d466d70216f39d943e0bd4a5f6f13fdf90d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240427010452_9fe3ea424cd644cb1f5a06a731f44d466d70216f39d943e0bd4a5f6f13fdf90d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1688" height="1088" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  Laxmi Prasad Siwakoti was a boy in 1968, and remembers enormous boulders thundering down rivers. One boulder the size of a house luckily was pushed to the banks before it could destroy a key bridge below Taplejung. All this water created even more death and destruction in the inland delta of Sunsari, also washing down the bodies of people and livestock from upstream. The 1968 post-monsoon flow of the Kosi reached 23,106 cumecs – four times the volume in the 1963 flood. Some researchers attributed the 1963 flood to the bursting of Tiptala Glacial Lake in the Kangchenjunga area, and that the 1968 flood was also caused by another moraine collapse on the same lake.&nbsp; But analysis of precipitation data of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that the reason for the catastrophic floods of 1968 was unusually heavy post-monsoon rainfall in the Tamor basin. Archival records of rainfall at Mulghat below Dhankuta shows that there was 162mm of rain on 3 October and another 158mm on 4 October. This meant that one-third of the total rainfall during four monsoon months fell in just two days. Never had Mulghat recorded so much rain in such a short time, and in the 55 years since there has been that much rain only twice. On 4-5 October 1968, Dhankuta received 300mm of rain. It had never received so much rain in the autumn before or since. Similarly, Taplejung recorded 231mm of rain in the same two days – it has never received so much rain in the post-monsoon since. Hydro-meteorological stations across eastern Nepal in Panchthar, Taplejung, Dhankuta and Sankhusabha all show data of record-breaking post-monsoon precipitation on 3-4 October 1968. In fact data shows that except for northwestern Nepal, there was heavy unseasonal rain all over. Dhulikhel near Kathmandu recorded 221mm rain that day, and even Jomsom in the trans-Himalayan rainshadow got 58% of its annual rainfall in just one week. In a paper titled Heavy Monsoon Rainfall in Nepal, J L Nayava dug up an archival weather map from 1968 that showed a cyclone develop in the Bay of Bengal a week after the official retreat of the monsoon from Nepal in conjunction with a low pressure area over southern India. Both systems moved northwards, and it could have been the combination of the two that dumped the record rainfall in Nepal.&nbsp; Nayava notes: ‘On 29 September, a small low appeared over the Bay of Bengal at about 10°N, 90°E. During the next two days, the circulation of this low expanded as it moved north-eastwards into central India and intensified into a depression. By 3 October, Nepal and much of India had come within the circulation of this depression… During the next two days, a sharp 500mb trough passed through Nepal and central India and as the polar westerlies at 200mb intensified and moved equatorwards, bringing the subtropical westerly jetstreams ever closer to Nepal. As the depression moved north, the anticyclonic circulation at 200mb over the depression intensified and became orientated in a south-west-north-east direction. Associated with these developments, widespread rain fell in most parts of Nepal…’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010452_6fc01e56307dfd3c43e58d7170346d11a1fd8ee2a748074b22aa84bcfdab8369.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240427010452_6fc01e56307dfd3c43e58d7170346d11a1fd8ee2a748074b22aa84bcfdab8369" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  It was not just eastern Nepal that suffered destruction, many people were killed in Bhojpur, Khotang and Solu to the west. If this was indeed a glacial lake outburst flood, the destruction would not have been so widespread. The hydrological data of the Tamor of 3-5 October 1968 are also not commensurate with a flash flood triggered by a glacial lake burst. The Mulghat hydrological stations showed that on 4 October, there was 3,060 cumec of flow (volume of water never recorded before) which decreased only slightly over the next few days and returned to a more normal 636 cumecs only on 9 October.&nbsp; By the time the rains stopped that October, 60 people were dead in Kosi zone alone, thousands of livestock were killed and houses swept away. The new bridge over the Tamor and other suspension bridges were destroyed. But that was not the end of the story. On 29 October 1968 came news that 91 people had been killed in Taplejung, 60 in Terathum, 30 in Panchthar and three in Dhankuta. Just in the Tamor watershed, 184 people were killed and thousands made homeless. Nepalis have learnt over the years to be prepared for disasters during the monsoon, and to breathe a sigh of relief when the rains end. But the 1968 floods hit after the monsoon, when people felt safer. Floods were nothing new in the Tamor. There was an unimaginable one five years earlier on 15 August 1963 that swept away 16 houses in Olangchung Gola, and this flood was different from the one in 1968. Locals remember an air blast preceding the flash flood, and an approaching roar that shook the mountains like an earthquake. Houses shook, cattle cowered and goats ran for cover. Upstream, villagers saw clouds of dust and spray, and there was a smell of gunpowder in the air as enormous boulders collided with each other. Although this was the monsoon period, the precipitation in the day preceding the debris flow was normal. This could not have been caused by a cloudburst. Alton C Byers, the American glaciologist who has researched historical glacial floods in the Kangchenjunga region, used satellite imagery and interviews with local villagers to pinpoint the flood to the bursting of Tiptala glacial lake at 4,900m. “The gunpowder smell and the wind preceded the arrival of the debris flow,” remembers Nil Limbu of Chhiruwa of Taplejung, an eye witness of the 1963 event. “It destroyed everything, took away all the trees, left just rocks and boulders.” The flood washed away the mule trail along the Tamor, and swept away the flat meadow along the river where there used to be a weekly market. Today, the trail is higher above the river, but for years later, there used to be rockfalls from above. The debris flow raced downstream destroying houses, trails, bridges, farms, livestock. The flood made national news, and RSS reported that below Dhankuta, the Tamor destroyed the trail to Taplejung and washed away seven bridges. The glacial lake outburst flood on the Tamor met the Arun and then the Kosi where the river flow spiked to 6,371 cumecs. Further downstream in the plains, the flood destroyed the western embankment of the Kosi Barrage, inundating villages in more than 1m of water. A month later, the government released the death toll: 32 killed, unknown number of livestock, standing crops, and causing damage equivalent to 1.6% of Nepal’s annual budget that year. Nepal’s famous eye doctor Sanduk Ruit’s family also had to leave their home in Olangchung Gola after that flood and settled down in Dhankuta. The combined result of the record rainfall-induced floods of 1968 as well as the glacial lake outburst flood of 1963 could have been early examples of climate-induced floods, which have become more frequent in recent years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010456_c6e6182935c1704629e175dc351f79b74367824a14be020d0b05bdda201a2747.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240427010456_c6e6182935c1704629e175dc351f79b74367824a14be020d0b05bdda201a2747" data-rendition-name="original" width="1036" height="1184" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  On 17 June 2023 Memeng station in Panchthar recorded 230mm rainfall in a 24 hour period, the highest rainfall ever recorded in that station (second highest was 148mm in July 2002). Nearby Dovan of Taplejung experienced 106mm on 18 June and 102mm on 19 June. The basin-wide floods on the Tamor and its tributaries caused damage worth at least Rs8.5 billion on 30 hydropower plants in Sankhuwasabha, Taplejung and Panchthar. Eighteen workers were killed. Half of these schemes were under construction, but plants generating 130MW were knocked out of action. Some, like the Upper Piluwa Khola 2 and Super Hewa Khola have still not been repaired. While these were all caused by extreme rainfall events, on the Sikkim side of Kangchenjunga a post-monsoon disaster on 4 October 2023 washed away several hydropower plants on Teesta and its tributaries, and killed nearly 100 people downstream. The 1,200MW Chungthang Dam built at a cost of $1billion was destroyed. It was later revealed that extreme rainfall on the South Lhonak Glacial Lake, north of Kangchenjunga, caused the collapse of a lateral moraine which allowed a wave to breach the terminal moraine. The lateral moraine could have been weakened by thawing permafrost, and collapsed during heavy rainfall on the night of 4 October.&nbsp; The Sikkim disaster was an important lesson for Nepal, which has invested heavily in infrastructure on this side of the border. More than a dozen medium and large hydropower plants have been built or are under construction along the Tamor alone. The 1960 Tiptala and the 1980 Nangama glacial lake bursts are further proof that such disasters can happen again without warning because of climate breakdown. Besides droughts and floods, landslides are also the reason many people from eastern Nepal have migrated to the relative safety of the plains. A huge landslide in 1946 in Hangdeva in Taplejung is still displacing many people. East of Hangdeva, another landslide in 1977 killed 25 people and the rest of the village just moved out. It is clear that with the climate crisis, extreme weather events and glacial lake bursts will be more serious and frequent, affecting lives and livelihoods, contributing to outmigration.&nbsp; This is the final of a three-part series supported by the Barbara Foundation.

Either too little, or too much water

On the evening of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">15 June 2021</a>, Baburam Bhandari was sitting down for dinner with his family, when the police sent out a warning about a flood on the Melamchi River.&nbsp;
The family quickly started packing, but the debris flow soon engulfed the house. While Bhandari, his wife, daughter-in-law, and grandson survived, the flood took away his son Madhav.&nbsp;
“All I have now is a piece of paper,” says Bhandari, holding up his land ownership certificate (pictured above last week). "Everything else, my son, my home, my crops, they are all gone.”
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/the-monsoon-mess-in-melamchi">The flood</a> claimed the lives of 25 people in Helambu, 360 families were displaced, their homes and farms destroyed. Downstream in Melamchi Bazar, two motorway bridges, six suspension bridges, 41 government buildings and 322 houses were destroyed with losses estimated at Rs57.3 billion.
Nepal sustains infrastructure damage worth 2% of its GDP annually, amounting to Rs80 billion to calamities like this. The state spends Rs 700 million in reconstruction. &nbsp;
A 2021 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/narrow-escape-for-melamchi-fact-finding-team">postmortem</a> of the Melamchi flood by ICIMOD blamed extreme weather caused by climate change and human factors, concluding that glacial moraines collapsed and washed down older sediment deposits.&nbsp;
Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state"> In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale
The Nepal Engineering Association also concluded that the flood was due to a localised cloudburst at the headwaters of the Melamchi River with slopes destablised by the 2015 earthquake contributing.&nbsp;
“While rainfall was evenly distributed over monsoon seasons in the past, it now rains heavily in short localised bursts due to climate change,” explains geologist Basanta Raj Adhikari at Pulchok Engineering Campus. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Lack of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-needs-weather-stations-in-the-himalaya">accurate local weather forecast and early warning</a> has also been cited as contributing to disaster-related loss and damage.&nbsp;
Floods similar to Melamchi hit eastern Nepal in June this year, causing damage worth Rs121 billion, affecting 15 hydropower plants and washing away highways in Panchthar and Taplejung. But Nepal's Department of Hydrology and Meteorology was still predicting that the monsoon was a few days away.
What caused the deadly flash flood was that a later westerly front blocked the progress on the monsoon, forcing it to dump the rain over eastern Nepal.
The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) says 34 people have been killed in the first 23 days of the monsoon, with disaster-induced losses amounting to Rs10 billion.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/think-globally-in-glasgow-and-act-locally">At COP27 in Glasgow</a>, there was a proposal for developed countries to help climate vulnerable nations by compensating for climate change-induced loss and damage. However, this fund has not got anywhere due to a lack of commitment from rich countries. The Biden administration in the US has flatly refused to fund loss and damage.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/we-have-not-respected-the-fragility-of-the-himalaya">“We have not respected the fragility of the Himalaya”</a>, Nepali Times
But there are things Nepal can do <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/drones-to-the-rescue-in-melamchi">with its own resources</a> to adapt to the climate crisis. Rajendra Raj Sharma Nepal, formerly with the Ministry of Physical Infrastructure and Transport says substandard infrastructure and their location in high-risk areas adds to the loss of life and property and the cost of reconstruction and rehabilitation after disasters.&nbsp;
“The mayors themselves want the work done before the assessment is complete to cut costs,” says Sharma.&nbsp;
The National Planning Commission's ‘Sustainable Development Goals, Status and Roadmap: 2016-2030' states that physical infrastructure construction must be strong, well-planned, safe, and sustainable. In reality they are anything but.
Nepal's National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Strategic Plan of Action (2018-2030) focuses on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/a-disaster-resilient-nepal-is-possible">disaster risk reduction</a>, relief and rescue.
The head of the NDRRMA Anil Pokharel says there is little hope that the West will keep its pledge for a loss and damage fund, but feels successive governments have also not done enough. He says, “Houses, roads, and bridges are a priority but as much attention needs to be paid to the suffering of families affected by disasters.”
All this is no relief at all for the family of Baburam Bhandari and others in Melamchi Valley two years after the disastrous flood that upturned their lives.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/better-forecasting-reduces-flood-impact-in-nepal">Better forecasting reduces flood impact in Nepal</a>

Lost and damaged

Most disasters strike without warning. But dengue fever which spreads when infected mosquitos breed in monsoon puddles, is largely predictable and preventable. Densely populated Kathmandu with stagnant pools of water has all the ingredients for another outbreak like the deadly one in 2022. Last year there were about<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/new-dengue-outbreak-likely-this-monsoon" target="_blank"> 55,000 infections and 88 fatalities</a> officially reported across Nepal in its biggest dengue outbreak yet, the real figure is probably higher. Hospitals were out of capacity, over-medication was rampant, and almost every house in Kathmandu had multiple members struck down with infection. This year, Nepal had already seen <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/health/2023/07/08/dengue-spreads-to-66-districts-one-person-dead-over-1-200-test-positive" target="_blank">over 1,000 dengue infections </a>by end-June. Starting in Dharan where one person has already died, the disease has now reached most of the 77 districts. Even so, many cases are never reported, and many recuperate at their homes. Furthermore, 80% of dengue cases are asymptomatic. “We are not even at the peak of the dengue season, and cases are already surging. It is very likely that this will further increase as rains begin to dwindle post-monsoon,” warns Sher Bahadur Pun, virologist at the Sukraraj Tropical and Infectious Disease Hospital in Kathmandu. “Nepal’s poor surveillance and record keeping also means diseases like dengue are seriously under-reported.”&nbsp; Lack of public awareness about dengue management and prevention adds to the problem. A third of dengue patients admitted to Teku Hospital last year <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/as-covid-abates-nepal-sees-dengue-outbreak" target="_blank">did not even know</a> that the disease is mosquito-borne and spreads in the daytime.&nbsp; “At least this wasn’t the case with Covid-19, but with dengue, people struggled to adopt the correct precautions due to lack of knowledge,” explains Pun. “Even more alarming: once infected, people took strong medications like painkillers and antibiotics unaware that they are ineffective and often even harmful in dengue.”&nbsp; Although there is no specific medication for dengue, doctors recommend paracetamol to ease the fever and enough fluids to replenish the body. Dengue has no cure.&nbsp; Dengue was first reported in Nepal in 2004, but it was not until 2019 that it spread like wildfire in major urban centres. Two years of Covid lockdowns significantly reduced the caseload after the 2019 outbreak, but last year, it struck again.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/new-dengue-outbreak-likely-this-monsoon">New dengue outbreak likely this monsoon</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230717150716_97f01f95d37cc29c4c2a68ba54185635449829fa53a3064d0b83ba5714263db9.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230717150716_97f01f95d37cc29c4c2a68ba54185635449829fa53a3064d0b83ba5714263db9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1072" height="577" loading="lazy" alt="Dengue graph NT"> <figcaption>Trend of dengue cases in Nepal 2006 - 2023 June, SOURCE: MoHP Situation Update</figcaption> </figure>  But even as dengue starts to spread in Kathmandu Valley, elected local officials do not seem to be too concerned. When the Ministry of Health and Population called on all local unit representatives in the Valley to discuss the outbreak on 9 July, 12 out of the 18 units <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/health/2023/07/11/dengue-search-and-destroy-campaign-to-be-launched-in-kathmandu-valley" target="_blank">avoided the meeting altogether.</a> Although there are some fumigation and dengue search and destroy campaigns <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/health/2023/07/11/dengue-search-and-destroy-campaign-to-be-launched-in-kathmandu-valley" target="_blank">set to be launched in Kathmandu</a> soon, with the monsoon already started, it may be a case of too little <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-malaise" target="_blank">too late</a>. It should have started before the onset of the monsoon. “Though not as many as last year, we are already seeing a worrying number of mosquitoes near areas with stagnant water. And when they fly into homes, chances are the virus is already spreading from those infected,” explains Pun.&nbsp; This negligence and delay in action comes despite repeated warnings from experts. Officials knew far in advance that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/new-dengue-outbreak-likely-this-monsoon" target="_blank">last year’s virus is still in mosquito larvae, waiting for the monsoon</a>, and yet, preventive measures, emergency preparedness, and capacity building were ignored. The risk of dengue fever will rise in the coming months of August and September, although some public health experts say serious dengue outbreaks seem to happen after a gap of two years. With climate change, mosquitos are moving up the mountains in Nepal, bringing mosquito-borne disease like malaria, encephalitis and dengue higher. The number of cases officially recorded between January and June this year is nine times higher than last year. Districts like Sankhuwasabha are on the <a href="https://edcd.gov.np/uploads/resource/64a3d5414aad6.pdf#:~:text=This%20figure%20was%20more%20than,of%20cases%20reported%20in%202019.&amp;text=As%20of%2030th%20June%2C%202023,listed%20details%20in%20Figure%202." target="_blank">top-ten list</a> for most cases reported, even though it is in the high mountains, and indicating how global warming is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mosquitoes-move-up-mountains-as-the-earth-warms" target="_blank">pushing mosquito breeding grounds further north.</a> Bagmati is once again the hardest-hit province, possibly due to higher population density. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dengue-days-are-here-to-stay"> Dengue days are here to stay</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230717150716_b1a8b5c7b8e50f5e388f04a41877f2520ffa8f334c04343b357fd034d4166e6d.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230717150716_b1a8b5c7b8e50f5e388f04a41877f2520ffa8f334c04343b357fd034d4166e6d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1088" height="433" loading="lazy" alt="Dengue graph"> <figcaption>Dengue cases reported by province in 2023 January to June.  SOURCE: MoHP Situation Update</figcaption> </figure>  Tackling Dengue: what does it really take? Ugonnaya Caleb-Ugwuowo recalls treating children and pregnant women struck down with dengue fever in a local hospital in Lagos. The Nigerian doctor and public health expert specialises in managing outbreaks, and says she often felt helpless at being unable to correctly diagnose and treat them due to lack of facilities. Nepal could learn from Nigeria's experience. Dengue fever is endemic in almost all states in Nigeria. “Although the country is still struggling, the challenges and epidemics Nigeria has faced over the years have shaped our understanding of what it takes to tackle outbreaks like the ones Nepal faced last year and in 2019,” says Ugonnaya.&nbsp; It starts with surveillance, she says, adding: “The government in Nepal should, as a matter of urgency, conduct dengue surveys in all provinces to assess the proportion and magnitude of different <a href="https://www.nature.com/scitable/topicpage/dengue-viruses-22400925/#:~:text=The%20Dengue%20Serotypes,antibodies%20in%20human%20blood%20serum." target="_blank">dengue serotypes</a> circulating freely. Following this, dengue should be made reportable from all local health institutions directly into the national health information system." Dengue fever for the first time, though debilitating, often does no harm. But getting it a second time with a different serotype poses a significantly higher risk of the disease progressing to haemorrhagic fever, where blood thins out and can start leaking from veins, causing potentially fatal internal bleeding. This is what makes serotype surveys so important. A <a href="https://academic.oup.com/jtm/advance-article-abstract/doi/10.1093/jtm/taad034/7087081?redirectedFrom=fulltext" target="_blank">study</a> aiming to report dengue serotypes seen in Kathmandu during last year’s outbreak showed DEN-1 and DEN-3 to be the dominant serotypes, with only negligible cases of DEN-2 reported. But such studies should be conducted nationwide, so that the risk of infection with other serotypes can be correctly determined. Sri Lanka and Bangladesh, both of which have reported elevated levels of dengue infections this year, have direct flights into Nepal. “Although the inflow of infected tourists also poses a great threat, the greater concern should be the mosquitoes in and around places where these tourists go, like airports, temples and major tourist sites,” warns Pun. If barring flights is not an option, vector control is the best way to minimise transmission. For this, fumigation and dengue search and destroy efforts should be concentrated in tourist sites first. Simple source reduction strategies like covering open water containers, using insecticides in canals, parks and fields exist, but deploying genetically modified mosquitoes to reduce the population of disease carriers can also control vector-borne diseases. Caleb-Ugwuowo adds that Nepal already has a decentralised framework of healthcare, so proper surveillance is possible. More importantly, the two previous outbreaks have given experts an idea of what needs to be done: capacity building in hospitals, sanitation and drainage facilities, public awareness, and emergency preparedness before the disease strikes. Pun agrees: “We must learn from other countries as well as from our own past experience, and act to contain this outbreak. Things will get progressively worse in the next few weeks, so there is no time to beat around the bush, especially with dengue already knocking at our doors.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mosquitoes-move-up-mountains-as-the-earth-warms">Mosquitoes move up mountains as the earth warms</a>, Sonia Awale

Dengue danger returns with monsoon

The Department of Meteorology and Hydrology has declared that the southwest monsoon entered eastern Nepal promptly on schedule, and will advance over the whole country in a week. This was a relief because weather models had suggested the onset of the rains would be delayed by at least 10 days. Let us hope simulations were also wrong about deficient rainfall this monsoon. News of the arrival of the rains could not have come sooner. So far, this June has been the hottest month on record in Nepal, with half of the country’s population mostly in the plains reeling under <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/turning-on-the-heat">heat stress</a>. Wells had gone dry in parts of the Chure and Tarai, and ritual frog weddings were being performed for rain. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/it-is-getting-hotter-on-the-roof-of-the-world">It's getting hotten on the roof of the world</a>, Kunda Dixit This year’s El Niño effect should be a warning about things to come, as the ocean and atmosphere heat up globally. Here in Nepal, we must now broaden the scope of disaster planning beyond droughts, floods and landslides to lethal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/north-indian-heat-wave-hits-nepal">‘wet bulb’</a> combinations of temperature and humidity. In the next decades, unliveable heat waves in the plains could force mass <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">migration of people to northern latitudes and higher altitudes</a>. For Nepal, this could mean a future reversal of population movement back from the plains to the mountains. But Nepal’s rulers cannot pass all the blame for chronic food insecurity on climate breakdown. The Karnali is food deficit because of decades of state neglect, and climate change-induced drought just puts farmers under added pressure. Crop failure due to lack of irrigation and agricultural input in turn will worsen malnutrition among children, and increase the push factor for outmigration of men. Not all disasters are sudden, Nepal must also prepare for slow-motion calamities like these. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tara-pariyar-s-karnali">Our coverage from Jumla</a> and Kalikot of Karnali Province in this edition shows how investment in rural irrigation can transform the lives of farmers, making them more resilient to face extreme weather. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water">climate crisis is a water crisis</a>, and year-round access to water will improve food availability, raise household income, reduce drudgery for women, and allow Nepalis to adapt to climate change. It is common sense. Why didn’t we think of that before? The DHM and South Asian Climate Outlook Forum forecast normal to below-normal rainfall this year, and an increase in maximum and minimum temperatures across South Asia. Rainfall in western Nepal is expected to be 60% below normal, and 30% deficient in the rest of the country.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061414068_a58db96050cb747bbcd4bf46e1507af613ea7bf0fa4700a0a4178da2e41130cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2023061414068_a58db96050cb747bbcd4bf46e1507af613ea7bf0fa4700a0a4178da2e41130cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="3300" height="1950" loading="lazy" alt="Monsoon 2023"><figcaption>Department of Meteorology and Hydrology has projected below-average rainfall this monsoon. </figcaption></figure>  But those are averages, and we also have to be prepared for cloudbursts of the kind that triggered the deadly <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/still-chasing-the-melamchi-mirage">Melamchi flood on 15 June 2021</a>. Robust early warning systems and real-time localised information systems are vital to save lives and infrastructure. Again, we cannot blame loss of life along settlements in flood-prone high-risk areas on the climate crisis. We cannot call them ‘natural disasters’ when the real culprit is bad planning and poor preparedness for calamities that are certain to happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-smarter-himalayan-infrastructure">Climate smarter HImalayan infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale The rampant building spree of mega-infrastructure, primarily hydropower projects along Nepal’s major rivers, without proper Environmental Impact Assessment also spells disaster. So does <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-nation-built-on-sand">illegal extraction of riverbed products</a> along the Chure. But perhaps the most glaring example of environmental terrorism is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/don-t-just-blame-god-for-floods-and-landslides">haphazard road construction</a> triggering slope failure and disrupting water supply. There are things that are happening globally over which we have little control. The Paris Agreement to cap average global temperatures to 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels by 2050 is now dead in the water. Last week, CO2 concentration in the atmosphere hit a record 422ppm, and at this rate we are looking at an increase of 2°C or more in the coming decade. The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-high-places">polar regions and the ice-caps of the Alps and the Himalaya </a>are already melting at unprecedented rates. New York experienced <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-the-air-in-bhaktapur-so-bad">air quality</a> worse than Kathmandu last week as Canadian wildfires sent smoke plumes across North America. Pakistan suffered catastrophic nationwide floods last year due to heavier than usual monsoon rains and melting glaciers. For us in Nepal, there is no option but to be prepared for what we know is coming. Rescue and relief after a disaster, as is often the case, is too late. Preparations for prevention for this monsoon should have started last winter. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/political-environment">Political environment</a>, Editorial A strong environmental protection strategy requires long-term vision and commitment, it needs politicians who think beyond immediately visible populist actions to boost vote banks. As with everything else in Nepal, the answer to disaster preparedness is a smarter and more accountable government. Sonia Awale

When it rains, it pours

Man Maya crouches on the steps of her concrete house. The house is covered in rough cement plaster. Stark grey now from years of weathering. The colour of the sky above her is a shade darker than her house. “Don’t you feel cold on your legs?” she yells at me while putting her palms together to make the shape of a shell to return my greeting. Her hair is fully gray-- cottony. An imitation of the cloud accumulating above her head. I laugh and pull the end of the sleeves of my jumper all the way down to cover my fingertips. Aja’s jumper, actually. I have been wearing it since he passed last month. How else do you cling to a dead person, but in their belongings? I must make a weird image to Man Maya-- a woman in an oversized man’s jumper and no trousers. She probably thinks I have no trousers. The jumper hangs below my shorts but Man Maya does not know that. I am suddenly blushing because I am conscious of her age and experience and I kind of want her to know I am wearing shorts and that I am not being disrespectful. But I keep walking because the thought of walking up to her and telling her so is even more embarrassing. I walk past her house and downhill towards the river. And always, the river brings me surprises. She seems to attract so much self-destruction. This time, it is the construction workers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230507080524_f1b7ab4975bc796b3ba2fd313e8d0b673c065d5a94c2eac9a43a04b107b030bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20230507080524_f1b7ab4975bc796b3ba2fd313e8d0b673c065d5a94c2eac9a43a04b107b030bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Hijjya River"> <figcaption>Construction work at Hijyya River on 2 May 2023. </figcaption> </figure>  It has rained the entire week, but there is no swollen river below the bridge as is the rainy season norm. The river is fast downgrading itself into a stream. And like Man Maya’s hair, she too imitates the colour of the sky. The water has turned murky, as it does after rains, only, it has no might. Against the twilight, construction men sit on wheelbarrows, sharing a cigarette, flanked by heaps of mud and rocks. We are building a road that will connect to the main road, they explain. But isn’t there a road already that does the same, I want to ask. Then I hold back as the men start to sermonise about how roads are the key to development. Upsteam, the Angel’s Trumpet plants lay wilting on the dirt. The men explain they cut it down to make way for the road. Next to it is a stack of bamboo shoots, slashed down to its roots.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230507080528_981567632ae3587a194d0c429d2c9767273f097d7f1d93852372ab46665e5ac2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230507080528_981567632ae3587a194d0c429d2c9767273f097d7f1d93852372ab46665e5ac2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Construction at Hijjya River"> </figure>  We can still use the bamboo for building, one of the men says. They have built a temporary shelter nearby for the duration of the construction. Downstream, they’re building stalls for what will be a vegetable market. They have torn down part of the hill to build. They boast about how much hard work it was and how they are stronger from doing that kind of work. “Nani, go to the Shiva temple and kneel for blessings,” one of them says. I nod and keep walking past the Shiva who now seems to lure only gentrification. My uninterrupted evening walks have run their course as the quiet pathways give in. Every other walk, there is one more fresh construction happening. Every other walk, there is one more creek that has gone dry (pictured, below).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230507080528_6f0cea842a9c5c1fb6ccfe2245b8c8e2f99ff04f1a41f4ba0e55d520ef7f0a7e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230507080528_6f0cea842a9c5c1fb6ccfe2245b8c8e2f99ff04f1a41f4ba0e55d520ef7f0a7e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="creek"> </figure>  My legs, now steeped in the muscle memory of this trail, might soon have to learn a new one. My daily route brings me back in full circle before Man Maya’s house. She is still on the steps of her house, now, a cigarette clenched between her fingers. I take courage and sit down on the pavement near her. Her heels are cracked and she wears no slippers. Before us stretches the last remaining open space in the village. Man Maya is the talk of the village-- how she went from being the owner of half the village to now being slumped in debt. “I sold,” she says. “The money seemed good at first, and then we couldn’t stop selling. I had to stop at the house.” “What do you think of the Hijjya River?” I ask. “Oh,” she says. “It’s a dying river.” “But it wasn’t always like that, right?” I probe. “My mother talks about the days when she was a child and they would carry her in a basket to Budanilkantha temple and the river would gurgle angrily as they walked past it.” “Indeed. Hijjya was the angry river. It was proud. It is where we all went to do our washing. In winter, it shone with clear water and in summer, it was always serene with the ducks, bamboo plants and the Angel’s trumpets thriving wildly on the banks. In the monsoon, always angry. Like the women in this village,” she lets out a laugh. “But all women wither and we also die. And this river is also dying. Did you see those men? So excited about building, building, building. Men like that bought my ancestral land too, and look how many houses have grown here in the stead of trees? It is making me go blind,” she laughs aloud and a whiff of stale alcohol sweeps past my nostrils. For a moment, I try to conjure the village of Man Maya’s childhood. A mud and brick house built by her ancestors, where we now sit, overlooking open grazing grounds for cows, green fields, tall trees, wild flowers and goats and cows and dogs and cats and birds. Before us, in the small patch of green now, a black puppy chases two kids and the mother goat bleats away and stares. “Are you okay, Man Maya Didi? I will be heading home,” I say. “Huss, don’t worry,” she says. “The river will get angry again when it must. All we can do is to wait and live that anger.” Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Where rivers are not the Phoenix

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413110/63722ea49c7e80680e0c24d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2667" height="1500"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-affects-himalayan-rice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">annual paddy planting</a> season is upon us, and the sculpted contours of rice terraces mirror the clouds as farmers wade into the submerged fields.Across Nepal on Wednesday communities came together knee-deep in mud to transplant the first paddy seedlings on watered terraces.There was traditional mud splashing, much singing and dancing to Nepali folk tunes and a traditional feast of dahi chiura as they celebrated the beginning of this year's rice cycle that is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">interwoven with the Valley's festivals</a>.This golden hour drone photo of Balkhu (above) strikingly juxtaposes the urban sprawl that has encroached on land owned by Tribhuvan University and currently farmed by locals. Some of these plots are gradually being used to construct new buildings and modern facilities for university students. The lower part of this photo shows what Kathmandu Valley looked like during monsoon paddy plantation in the past decades.The other aerial photos capture <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-sets-ambitious-target-for-food-sufficiency/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rice planting</a> along the Bagmati in Khokana (below). These are the last few remaining patches of paddy that remain untouched by Kathmandu's relentless urban expansion.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413110/63722ea79c7e80680e0c24d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1046"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413110/63722eab9c7e80680e0c24d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413110/63722eaf9c7e80680e0c24d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="2000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722eb39c7e80680e0c24d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2629" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722eb79c7e80680e0c24dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722ebb9c7e80680e0c24dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1778" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Further away from the fields, there are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/home-is-where-the-heart-is/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">increasing numbers of settlements</a> and brick factories nearby. The kilns fire moulds of fertile clay deposits of Kathmandu's pre-historic lake to feed the voracious appetite for bricks from buildings that now stand on the former rice fields.The fertile terrace farms of Khokana are disputed, with the government trying to evict farmers to make way for the Kathmandu-Terai expressway.

TERRACES

Nepal’s post-Covid planners need a different tactic. Trying to convince people around the world to visit Nepal because it is there is not working anymore. Maybe they should try to tell them not to visit Nepal. Go away. Scat. Vamos.That way people may actually be more curious about why we are trying to keep them away, what we are hiding, and they will have FOMO and want desperately to visit.Tourists are also told not to visit Nepal in the monsoon. Some guidebook in the 1960s declared the rains as the off-season, and that has stuck. It is time to change that.We need a new slogan, how about: ‘Off to Nepal in the Off Season’, or ‘Visit Nepal: Take a Rain-Cheque’. With our picturesque flooded streets and casinos in every hotel, Nepal can be the combination of Venice and Las Vegas. Only in Nepal can visitors expect the unexpected at every step. Elsewhere in the world it rains cats and dogs, but in Nepal it rains only dogs. And lots of them.Soon the monsoon will be here. And the Tourism Revival Committee should be trying to turn Nepal’s liabilities into asses. For example, Kathmandu can rebrand itself and turn its name into Mudmandu. If Glastonbury can make wallowing in mud pools a tourist attraction, we have far more ooze here. And it is of better quality.Every monsoon, Nepal turns from a dust bowl into a mud bath, and we are wasting the opportunity by not making the best of it.New tv commercials can show monsoon scenes with hit songs like ‘Singing in the Rain’, ‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain’, or ‘A Hard Rain’s A-gonna Fall’ and dub them in Arabic so we can woo visitors from the Gulf countries where it has not rained since dawn of the new millennium. We give them workers, they give us tourists.The Ass has a few free tips for catchy taglines to market the monsoon:‘Nepal: Where It Always Rains on Your Parade’‘Visit Nepal in the Monsoon for a Crash-course in Political Mud-slinging’‘Join the Kathmandu Muckrakers’‘Visit Nepal: Be a Stick-in-the-Mud’‘Watch it rain water buffalos and hippopotami in Chitlang.’  ‘Nepal Airlines: Flies You to the Slime with a Smile’Monsoon is the time for Nepal’s national disease: gastroenteritis. But this explosive affliction need not be a deterrent, it can be turned to our advantage.We can in fact promote diarrhoea, we just need to figure out how to spell it correctly. And that opens up the opportunity for more slogans:&nbsp;<ul> 	<li aria-level="1">Enjoy Runs in the Rain </li> 	<li aria-level="1">Guaranteed Weight Loss Plan: Lose 10kg in 10 Days</li> 	<li aria-level="1">Visit Nepal and Take Part in a Violent Uprising</li> 	<li aria-level="1">Develop a Gut Feeling for Nepal</li></ul>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/taxman-cometh-2/">Taxman cometh</a>, Ass

Ass s

Muckraking in ‘Mandu

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

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

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

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

“It's Kathmandu.” Just as the family was sitting down for one of its extended lunches, that jubilant cry was from François Driard’s grandfather announcing the next posting for his diplomat parents.&nbsp; Driard (pictured) was 18 in the summer of 1996,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/chasing-a-nomad"> a bit of a hippie</a> already, and his life was about to change forever with the magical word “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Kathmandu</a>”. “I was awed with that information from my grandfather, nothing else mattered … In France <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tales-of-courage-and-suffering-cx95f89e">in the 1990s</a>, Kathmandu had a mythical aura,” Driard recalls. He came to Kathmandu for Christmas that year to visit his stepfather, the French Ambassador Michel Lummaux. It was to be the first of many visits during school holidays, before he decided to permanently settle down in Nepal. “Kathmandu, and Nepal, were very different then, it was magical, I liked the nature, the people, civilisation, temples, trees,” says Driard, who explored the country sitting on the top of buses. “Visitors talk about the crazy <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">urbanisation</a>, traffic jams today, and all that is true. But Kathmandu has not <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/loss-of-soul-and-soil">lost its soul</a>.” After his stepfather’s tenure in Nepal ended, Driard worked as a business reporter for international publications but decided he did not want to be anyone’s employee anymore. In 2007 he landed in Kathmandu with €20,000 in savings to invest.&nbsp; He knew a few crucial things about himself: he liked food and nature, which is very much tied up with his upbringing--full of lively conversations during lunch and dinner at the family table between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-yak-cheese-is-on-world-map">abundant cheese, wine and cigars</a>. So he decided it would be cheese, and registered Himalayan French Cheese and went to the French Alps for a month to learn how to make Tomme de Savoie. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese">Cheese making is such an ancient craft </a>and so I thought I won’t need much money or studying which I hated and indeed, if you have a tamako bhado and fire you are set,” explains Driard. But Nepal’s temperature and humidity were not ideal, even at higher altitudes. The first customers for his cheese were the Hyatt Regency and Nina and Hager. But he needed to create a market for cheese in a country which only knew hard churpi in the north and soft paneer in the south. He started selling his cheeses at the Summit Hotel weekend market, expanding to his own 1905 Farmer’s Market which later moved to Le Sherpa in Maharajganj, where it is now, and also a market at Labim Mall in Pulchok. He had cow dairies in Nuwakot and Dhulikhel, and finally a yak cheese unit at 3,379m in Ramechhap. It was the yak blue cheese from here that went on to win a Gold Medal in France, putting Nepal’s French cheese on the world map. “People come and try our cheese at the market, they ask questions. There is a lot of education to be done about cheese,” adds Driard, who also has three cheese shops in the Valley. Driard now makes 25 types of cheese. The products are being noticed and every year he has French students coming to Nepal to learn the art of yak cheese making. “In France, one family or company makes one kind of cheese for generations. In that I’m very unique as a cheese artisan,” he says. “The students come in to learn but I tell them to also teach us something too, add another cheese to my collection.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/langtang-after-10-years">Langtang after 10 years</a>, Sonia Awale Being a foodie, Driard is now also dabbling in meat with his own charcuterie at Meatini with bacon, ham, sausage and pâtés. All of this is now served at his Emilio’s Pizza, a leafy hideaway in Lazimpat. His South Side in Moksh is probably the smallest wine bar in the world. “I call the process sublime,” says Driard of his ventures, which have grown organically. “You need the same temperature and humidity of 12°C and 80% for cheese, meat and wine.” Emilio’s speciality is the eight-cheese pizza (which has eight types of cheeses), and a pizza with bhutan topping (not the country but fried intestines and organs Nepali-style). He has opened a small branch at Courtyard in Pokhara.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250426070456_bacae302c040dc18eeecdeafda72ddf06a6d2cec138ea9be7e45fe94cdf8b5b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="8 cheese pizza"> <figcaption>Eight-cheese pizza</figcaption> </figure>  With two artisanal cheese units, two farmers’ markets, a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-meat-of-the-story">meat processing unit</a>, a bakery, and wine bar he now envisions a vineyard so he can add Nepali wine to his repertoire. Another future plan is to start up an agri-tourism business where customers can drink, eat and work in peace. In the past 20 years in Nepal, Driard has not always succeeded in his ventures but this hasn’t curbed his enthusiasm. He is learning as he goes, and like an old wine, Nepal is growing on him. Its slowness suits his French art de vivre with eating slowly outdoors, having conversation, importing less.&nbsp; “I have proven that with even a little money you can do a lot of things in Nepal,” adds Driard. “In the West, they easily invest half a million euros on a cheese factory, I invested 10 times less.”&nbsp;

Fromage, vin et charcuterie Népalais

Bhuthan भुठान starts with Bishnu Bahadur KC played by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/dhuwa-smoke-telefilm,2671">Hari Bansha Acharya</a> on a call, requesting to speak to the visa officer. By this point, he had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-should-now-allow-visa-on-arrival">applied for a visa </a>to Bhutan 10 times, but was denied each time. KC was a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-women-excel-in-sports-in-2024-z9ramyct">national football player </a>in Bhutan in 1988 before he and other Nepali-speaking Lhotsampa people were forced out of the country in the 1990s as part of the Druk regime’s ‘One Nation One People’ campaign. Over 100,000 Bhutanese Nepalis were forced out, driven across India and dumped in Nepal where they lived in seven<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp"> refugee camps</a> supervised by the United Nations and other charities until they were resettled in the United States, Australia, New Zealand and some European countries starting in 2007. In the fictional movie with the satirical English title The World’s Happiest Man, KC has resettled in the state of Ohio in the US but wishes to visit his home country once before he dies. Between flashbacks, we learn KC has died without having fulfilled his wish. &nbsp; The drama then focuses on KC’s two families from two marriages as they debate whether to cremate him as per <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/muslim-hindu,2996">Hindu rites </a>or give him a Christian burial. A mediator played by Hollywood actor Bruce Dern urges them to take a firm decision before it is too long.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250430140420_b398a08091b866da2b0b8f6c1e6e26781609749aba896bfd2c68a10a519295c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="945" height="945" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  There are drawn out scenes of KC being baptised and when he is confronted by his first wife from Darjeeling played by Anuradha Majumdar, he says he changed his religion in the hope that he will be <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/bhutan-s-refugees-between-hope-and-despair">allowed back in Bhutan</a>.&nbsp; We find out KC has a second wife, a Christian Nepali played by Puja Chand. Dayahang Rai as the younger son doesn’t have much screen time to flex his acting chops. &nbsp; Acharya competently portrays a man that is equal parts haunted by the memories of and longing for his home country. KC’s pain and loss is acute when he is teaching football to Gungun but between mid-scene, he freezes, perhaps lost in memories of being in Bhutan’s national team. &nbsp; In another scene, KC recalls his mother singing a lullaby in Dzongkha. He also has a box filled with medals, photographs and a football which he deflates with a knife in a powerful depiction of his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home?fb_comment_id=1506516030025634">complicated emotions about his homeland</a>. KC keeps checking his mailbox in the hopes that his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4977">visa application</a> has been accepted. He says in Nepali: “If a tree that has already struck roots in one place is shifted to another, it will not survive.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250430140420_4a9c27410326489576c04dedf40016bda3825e8f9663317f54fbfec4cbda6d34" data-rendition-name="original" width="1422" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan, the movie"> </figure>  Dern’s character says that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-transitional-justice-and-the-west-s-recalibration">western world</a> has become “lonely in pursuit of happiness”, another reference to Bhutan’s obsession with its Gross National Happiness index. Scenes shift quickly throughout making the story difficult to follow at times. The use of symbolism is a trite overdone. Nonetheless, भुठान is a nuanced depiction of raw pain and agony of losing one’s homeland. But one cannot help but leave the theatre feeling deflated. KC dies without having visited <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/small-bhutan-dreams-big">Bhutan</a>, but perhaps he does in his afterlife. It is up to the audience to create its own ending to this sad story of exile. भुठान Mad Monkey Films, 2025 Directed by Binod Paudel 102 minutes In cinemas in Nepal