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;

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

"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

In the black and white photograph, General Wangdu smiles broadly in front of the dusty cactus garden in Kathmandu’s Annapurna Hotel. With an ill-fitting jacket and shaggy hair he looks benign enough, but this was the last leader of the Tibetan freedom fighters who led the resistance against the Chinese from their remote mountain hideouts in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">Mustang</a>. Five months later, Wangdu was dead. Snapped in March 1974, I had only recently arrived in Nepal. How did I meet this legendary fighter? Possibly with his devoted camp follower, Lynne Klapecki, and probably in the Om Restaurant near Freak Street which was the preferred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/hippie-trail-nostalgia-in-kathmandu">hippie hang-out</a>. Om Lobsang and his brother Yeshe were <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/earthquake-brings-back-memories-of-camps-for-tibetan-refugees">refugees from East Tibet </a>whose cafe offered a friendly welcome and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/momo-loco"> the best momos</a> - they became my in-laws after I married their eldest brother Tenzin, but that was a decade later.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025052403054_4573b34282b0f5395c007243d6bef12c7ba76bfd520419e994cdcea048d795a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1583" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Photo: LISA CHOEGYAL</figcaption> </figure>  Wangdu’s English was enthusiastically rudimentary, but even riding around town with him on the back of an aging <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-new-motorbike-museum">motorbike</a>, he was a commanding presence. Always flanked by armed outriders, impressive scars marked his forearms and a pistol hung from the cord around his neck. A charismatic guerrilla leader, Wangdu was celebrated by his followers for his tough commitment and respected for his measured pragmatism. He seemed so young to have shouldered such a responsibility of command, leading hundreds of hardened <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/50-years-after-the%20raid-into-Tibet,1012#google_vignette">Khampa combatants </a>through what had been a particularly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/heavy-snowfall-over-nepal-himalaya">brutal winter in Mustang</a>, the last bastion to hold out against the Chinese invasion of their Tibetan homeland.&nbsp; The freedom fighters of Tibet, known as the Chushi-Gangdruk, had emerged to resist the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/territorialism">Chinese takeover</a> of Tibet during the 1950s. Estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-or-who-after-the-dalai-lama">the Dalai Lama</a>’s final escape to India in 1959, the sheer number of Chinese deployed into Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to Mustang, From this high Himalayan stronghold, they continued cross-border raids on the Chinese People’s Liberation Army (PLA) throughout the 1960s.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025052403054_8a4a935ba25ae79dc3a63bb5c14626927020e5ec098093c45ccb9a5982e009fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="676" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Guerrillas known as the Chushi-Gangdruk emerged to resist the Chinese annexation of Tibet during the 1950s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>  Their Kathmandu base was a small discreet lodge in a back lane near Rani Pokhari. Sipping sweet tea from a blue mug with a chipped lid, I sat bemused in a corner of the Mustang Hotel room whilst Wangdu and his cohorts received a battered brown suitcase from their CIA connection, a tousle-haired American in a leather jacket. Heaved onto the dingy bedspread that covered the thin mattress, it was clicked open to reveal piles of neatly stacked dollar bills.&nbsp; I cannot think why Wangdu allowed me to witness this handover but I was clearly no threat, a newly arrived world traveller with no understanding of the stakes nor any Nepali or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tibetan-music-in-nepals-sacred-valley">Tibetan language</a>. Despite armed guards in the corridor,Wangdu radiated confidence and bravado, and there was a practiced familiarity to the tense transaction. This deadly dance for many years had been funded by the Americans, tolerated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-kingdom-within-a-republic">Mustang’s residents</a>, and permitted by King Mahendra and the Nepali authorities who it suited to turn a blind eye.&nbsp; But Mahendra died in 1972, and times were changing. Richard Nixon’s ping-pong diplomacy thawed the cold war and signalled a fresh entente with China. Nepal’s yet-to-be-crowned <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">King Birendra </a>was under pressure to curb the irritating incursions against the PLA launched from the Nepali territory of Mustang. Keen to appease his northern neighbour, on several occasions the King summoned Wangdu for peace talks but, despite increasingly overwhelming odds, Wangdu refused to surrender.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025052403054_a8efd5cfb92cd997bd7cb74296a936fef46e2f7428f9cd642b03f1ac4ea11ecb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1055" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>General Wangdu flanked by two Tibetan resistance fighters in Mustang in the 1970s. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2025052403054_75969125a745847a2ef82b6fe8b9106c0b21a116d85b8efdf5d2ee89a347bb31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1044" height="792" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>King Birendra with General Wangdu (right in dark glasses) taken in 1974 possibly in Mustang after one of their few attempts at negotiation. Photo courtesy: RAJRNDRA KUNWAR</figcaption> </figure>  While I naively rode pillion around Kathmandu in the spring sunshine, Wangdu was in the midst of what turned out to be his final round of negotiations with the Nepal government. Refusing to cease hostilities with the Chinese, Wangdu must have suspected the cost of his decision, making his cheerful smile in the photograph all the more poignant and brave. It was only much later that I appreciated the significance of the moment. Wangdu had been sent to replace the first resistance leader in Mustang, Baba Gen Yeshe, a much derided corrupt character who stole money meant for his troops and exploited fleeing refugees by seizing their treasures. Baba Gen Yeshe never forgave Wangdu,and sought revenge in May 1974 by betraying him and his commanders to the Nepal authorities. Renewed Chinese incursions from the north, active PLA collusion with the Nepali forces under the new King, and treachery from within the Chushi-Gangdrukranks combined to seal their fate.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025052403054_e0987a7c90d76431b0d7d5e6115ebfe3dbda7ab939e5941e079c18d722e884c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="769" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>British television journalists George Patterson and Adrian Cowell embedded themselves with Khampa guerrillas and accompanied them from Tsum Valley on a cross border raid on a Chinese Army convoy in 1964. Photo: ESSAYS ON NEPAL / SAM COWAN</figcaption> </figure>  Mikel Dunham, renowned author of Buddha’s Warriors, writes: ‘It is possible that Wangdu was waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s government-in-exile in Dharamsala, India. It is equally possible – during that last, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-human-cost-of-nepal-s-yarsa-gold-rush?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR31-Cqw8oyIwMPzf_35e4Skr0ululJvLf3_vDkzHn-AYG2h8uPw2rqqErg_aem_tGVn5coY1-jA7fze_xqhew">desolate winter </a>– that he made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force.&nbsp; First they had been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused sanction while on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/nepal-india-trans-boundary-bonds?fbclid=IwAR0PpJ5zUEbwdug3g_U3ar6FUugngRY0S8Tl2v_7wqzrsHmXWcXsKjvL4t4">Indian soil</a>; then they were abandoned by the Americans because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies, the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshe – a Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp">refugee camp </a>was unthinkable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="2025052403054_8fc1ffef4ae751628b90ae781b66e11e51e4fdde2787207c9042efbee345ce49" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="746" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>The much derided Baba Gen Yeshe, the first Tibetan resistance leader in Mustang, who betrayed Wangdu for personal gain. Photo courtesy: MIKEL DUNHAM</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025052403054_b1d833cdb00d3ac4416b844d8730475cd88c238caaaf8da69889a584eea229a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="656" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> <figcaption>Aditya SJB Rana of the Royal Nepal Army whose team ambushed Wangdu and his cohorts at the top of Tinker Pass in Darchula, West Nepal. Photo courtesy: GAUTAM SJB RANA</figcaption> </figure>  By August 1974 the game was up. Wangdu and six of his exhausted party were killed on their horses by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7270">the Royal Nepal Army</a> on the brink of escape. The officer in charge, Aditya SJB Rana, cleverly predicted their route into India after they failed to silence a police radio in Yari. A carefully laid ambush trapped them near the summit of the Tinker Pass in Darchula,at 5,000 meters the highest military operation of its time. Wangdu’s body was helicoptered to Kathmandu, and a big show made of the royal Nepal victory.&nbsp; The Tibetan armed insurgency against China had reached its end.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_23" data-image-id="20250524030520_3ff9c6fc85a65bc9a2c3afe9736d9f5f9413de752e790a5d9dca0981ea94f9b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The last days of the Khampa NT"> </figure>

The Last Days of the Khampa

Starting 17 September Turkish Airlines will fly daily to Seville, one of Spain’s major tourist draws. This is Turkish’s sixth destination in Spain after Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, Malaga, and Bilbao. Seville is in the Andalusia region on Spain’s south coast with a rich Moor history. There are approximately 30,000 Nepalis living in Spain.&nbsp;

Turkish to Seville

The newly-formed Himalayan Art Council is set to launch Nepal’s National Art Protection Platform that seeks to preserve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">Nepal’s unique cultural heritage </a>using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/artificial-censorship"> AI-powered tools</a>. The Council seeks to safeguard <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-art-going-places">Nepali art works</a> from neglect, theft and counterfeiting as well as preserve existing artwork and celebrate living masters by giving them a cultural space to continue the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/sacred-survival">sacred art traditions</a>. "We are introducing a new digital platform designed to preserve, verify and elevate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-new-generation-of-alternative-artists">Nepal’s art for generations to come,</a>” says a statement from the Council, adding that the digital platform will use AI told for authentication and blockchain to keep track of works of art. Artists can now be protected by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/ayo-ai?fbclid=IwAR1uwmTVq4gUB70ljfRezjzukD9ArWXPuMnUikopeQ8PoiZMjicToPSwhKE&amp;=1">AI tools</a> that detect forgeries, identify their work even when unsigned, and ensure they receive proper recognition and credit. The archives will be searchable with translated inscription and interactive guides. Says curator Meena Lama: “AI and blockchains are tools that give us the power to detect fakes and identify unsigned paintings and track every piece. With these tools we can restore trust, secure authorship and give artists the dignity they deserve.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250514170544_2ab58f6313c0458f75114a692b0016bd9efb3b59d5f8f07f0da72e1e37b82f53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1300" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum."> <figcaption>Artwork at the Traditional Art Exhibition at Patan Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  The Council is also holding an exhibition of Nepali cultural masterpieces with 50 historical <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-the-art,671">thangka and paubha </a>by past masters and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">contemporary works by current artists</a>. This curated collection is a living tribute to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">Himalayan culture</a> with economic depictions of deities, mandala and sacred narratives. The exhibition at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present">Patan Museum</a> also provides an opportunity to meet painters and custodians of art and culture. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/golden-deities">Golden deities</a>, Sewa Bhattarai ‘The exhibition is only the first step in a long journey to ensure that Nepali art is no just seen but fully understood, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Narratives-of-Faith-and-Memory-Remembering-the-Lost-Sculptures-of-Kathmandu-exhibition,987">protected and remembered</a>,’ the Council says. Artist Kailash K Shrestha of Artudio has spent decades promoting thankha and paubha traditions because of their beauty and devotional meaning. But he also says artists are underpaid, exploited and ignored. He adds, “AI and blockchain are not just buzzwords, they are powerful tools that can protect Nepal’s artists from fraud, verify authenticity and build a permanent record of provenance.” Traditional Art Exhibition Till 17 May Patan Museum

Digital protection for Nepal’s art

<a href="https://www.instagram.com/prabalgurung/" target="_blank">Prabal Gurung</a> left Nepal for New York in 1999 to escape years of bullying, sexism and homophobia, and to pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. He <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqN0VaoAI5w" target="_blank">realised his dream</a>, but did not escape discrimination and racism in the new world. Propelled by passion for fashion, Gurung overcame everything America threw at him. He has attained <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/style/story/prabal-gurung-recalls-his-first-met-gala-when-zoe-saldana-was-at-his-side?srsltid=AfmBOooy-H0oGgxMit864FnW_Pmw8mUnV8rYrh-co-f6OyYK6m2ip5hP" target="_blank">fame and recognition</a> for his haute couture dress designs while remaining true to his Nepali roots, and is even more resolute in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSmNauyzACk" target="_blank">fighting prejudice</a> in all its forms. Prabal Gurung’s newly-released memoir <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Audible-Walk-Like-Girl-Memoir/dp/B0DG11HCDQ?fbclid=IwY2xjawKZfpxleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHuZcIJO2OXyXcRm1oq1iG6wzeoF7VJFrQ7GXOFI0YxuZZ4id_CNvSZSZZIna_aem_pG_mOKG73RTnYvN8JaC4fA">Walk Like a Girl</a> is a saga of harrowing abuse in boarding schools in Nepal and India, only finding himself facing a different kind of bullying in the US. He prevails over it all to be where he is today: an award-winning American fashion designer with his own label. Walk Like a Girl was launched last week in New York at a time when everything Gurung fought for — tolerance, inclusion and diversity — are in retreat in his adopted country because of a president who has espoused a culture of bullying. The book is a searing, raw exposé of how cruel and abusive people can be even at a young age in school. On the other hand, it also shows that there are generous, compassionate and open-minded souls out there. In his book, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4le_uWX7YE">Prabal Gurung</a> calls out those who tormented and tried to hold him back (some of their names have been altered). The moral of his story is: resist, never stop believing in yourself, do not let others define you, never lose sight of your dream, and help those who have been kept out. “Walk like a girl” was a slur used by bullies back in school in Nepal and India for Gurung’s effeminate ways. He fought back then, and he is still resisting by turning those words into something to be proud of.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170544_4ffc9c3f565dd2cfa754d10b224816897b82bb31ebaee91b6d79d469fc96f14e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250519170544_4ffc9c3f565dd2cfa754d10b224816897b82bb31ebaee91b6d79d469fc96f14e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1253" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Prabal Gurung at home in Kathmandu in the 1990s.</figcaption> </figure>  “Living through it all was one thing, but writing about it is one of the hardest things I have done in my life,” admitted Gurung during the launch. “I broke down constantly during the six-year writing process.” He continues: “I did not want this to be a victim’s book. I did not want to burden my readers with my emotions. I wanted my struggle to be an inspiration for others facing what I faced. I am grateful to those who bullied me in school, they made me a stronger person ready to face the world.” Indeed, this book is a departure from his earlier one titled simply, Prabal Gurung (Abrams, 2019), which was a lush pictorial autobiography of his career in fashion. Walk Like a Girl is not a typical fashion book, it is an intimate tale of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16997">Gurung’s travails and triumphs</a>, and how he willed himself to succeed. Prabal pays a lavish tribute to his mother Durga Rana. We find out she is a descendant of the first wife of the eldest son of Jang Bahadur Rana who was banished to Palpa in the late 19th century. Prabal’s father served in the Singapore Police and that is where he was born before the family returned to Nepal when he was four. Gurung relates with brutal honesty about the violence his mother endured from his father. Durga raises three children as a single mother in Nepal, and Prabal credits her for his fierce determination to resist patriarchy and injustice, which in time manifests itself in his hyper-feminine and subversive dress designs. Writing the book has been a cathartic experience for Gurung, who says he is now relieved of the burdens of his past. It no longer haunts him, and he does not have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Walk Like a Girl has life lessons not just for the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DJmOcSgxdWz/" target="_blank">fashion industry</a>, but for every other profession. How can my job serve a greater cause? Gurung tells us his work is <a href="https://asiasociety.org/blog/asia/why-designer-prabal-gurung-doesnt-want-just-stick-fashion" target="_blank">bigger than just making clothes</a>, it is about making the world a better place because it could do with a lot of improvement.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170544_d75296ad8bfdc00d88935f40d23543c6fea3d4d6a10e61a99d6cfc6127f2ee5b.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250519170544_d75296ad8bfdc00d88935f40d23543c6fea3d4d6a10e61a99d6cfc6127f2ee5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1516" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung"> </figure>  This story of chasing the American dream may sound familiar to many immigrants: knocking on doors for jobs, rejections, trying to survive from day to day on expensive rent, and dealing with subtle racism in white America. Gurung finds racism is rife, and he is often mockingly called ‘gaysian’. He writes: ‘There was a strong hypocrisy — this idea of independence felt like a marketting ruse … and for all the talk of feminism in America, these high society women were trapped by the patriarchy just like in Nepal and India.’ After a trek to the Khumbu region in 2013, Gurung is inspired to use the colours, palette and textures of Nepal for his collection exhibited on Manhattan’s 8th Avenue. A major buyer tells him bluntly: “Stick to making pretty dresses … if I need to see a collection like this, I could buy a copy of National Geographic.” The New York Times was equally dismissive: ‘The designer tries to draw connections between blistered techo-fabric used to construct it and the topography of his homeland, Nepal. But, at the moment, he has lost his map.’ One potential investor tells Gurung he cannot design for Americana because “you do not look American”. Gurung wants to use expletives, but restrains himself. After a fundraiser in New York for the Nepal earthquake in 2015, some belittled his effort, saying: “Here comes the saviour."&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/prabal-gurung-by-prabal-gurung">Prabal Gurung by Prabal Gurung</a>, Kunda Dixit The Gurkha DNA must be dominant in Prabal Gurung’s genes because he does not take such mistreatment lying down. When asked by a fashion publicist why he was designing clothes for fat people, he snaps back: “Because of people like you.” He joins the Black Lives Matter and #MeToo movements, launches the Shikshya Foundation charity in Nepal, and has powerful allies among celebrities who wear clothes he designed: Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Sara Jessica Parker, Kamala Harris, Deepika Padukone … it is a long list.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519150556_48a5f4211991a23fa85b64bbd5377575ca7081d97309d7542035591dda5180fe.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250519150556_48a5f4211991a23fa85b64bbd5377575ca7081d97309d7542035591dda5180fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="1534" loading="lazy" alt="Being Prabal Gurung by design"> <figcaption>Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie wearing Atelier Prabal Gurung’s design for Met Gala 2025 in which the theme was ‘Superfine: Tailoring Black Style’. </figcaption> </figure>  “I don’t dress women to look beautiful, they already are,” Gurung says. “I try to bring out their innate strength and grace.” <a href="https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/17908766880140171/" target="_blank">Admirers</a> tell Gurung he makes it all look so easy, but he used to put up a strong facade to not show his own vulnerabilities in public. “I was closed because of my childhood experiences,” he says. “I was always on guard to defend myself because I never knew where the next punch would come from.” But in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPVepzPA210" target="_blank">Walk Like a Girl,</a> Gurung comes to terms with his vulnerability, and bares his soul. It has not been easy, it took sustained will power and support from his mother, sister Kumudini and a circle of close friends. “I made unbelonging my power,” he says. “Nepal is where I still have my heart and soul. Nepal grounds you. It is where people go to find themselves. But I escaped.” Recently appointed vice-chair of the <a href="https://cfda.com/about-cfda" target="_blank">Council of American Fashion Designers</a>, Gurung says: “I can’t believe I am here, it feels like it is happening to someone else. Writing this book, the healing has finally begun.” <h2>‘Everything is better in color’</h2> The Met Gala was two weeks later, and my table was an example of everything I’d been fighting for all these years as my guests represented everything I believed in: dynamic, powerful, influential women who were unapologetically original and unabashedly graceful. I was grateful to Anna for inviting me to host and dress a table that reflected my ethos—and for her guidance in doing so. I was also aware of the privilege as one of the first-­ever Asian fashion designers—not just from Nepal, but from the entire continent— to get the opportunity to do so. That fact was not lost on me. I reached out beyond the expected Hollywood celebrities and well-­known socialites to curate a table of exceptional women who inspired me. I invited Deepika Padukone and Alia Bhatt for their first-­ever Met Galas, as well as Michelle Yeoh, Mindy Kaling, Camila Cabello, Ashley Park, Denée Benton, KiKi Layne, Quannah Chasinghorse, and Grace Elizabeth. Together we checked many boxes: Asian, Black, Latinx, and Indigenous, each woman undeniably chic and powerful, a dazzling array of skin tones and experiences that proved my decades‑in‑the-­making hypothesis: everything is better in color. Excerpt from Walk Like a Girl Viking © 2025 by Prabal Gurung  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170520_6b91d560e9f072c37d16876901058c073a51ffa05e7ad1b9461d19e1c9c28215.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250519170520_6b91d560e9f072c37d16876901058c073a51ffa05e7ad1b9461d19e1c9c28215" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung book details NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250519170520_345240c21be400e2ce2ec629b52bd82bb53890e5bd86fe95b48340d84b5f1748.jpg" data-media-id="editor_17" data-image-id="20250519170520_345240c21be400e2ce2ec629b52bd82bb53890e5bd86fe95b48340d84b5f1748" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Prabal Gurung book details NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;