Milan BK is busy installing camera traps, checking its GPS location and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/sisterhood-of-the-snow-leopard-protectors">peering through binoculars</a> at outcrops on the other side of the valley for signs of snow leopard movement. BK is 15 years old and still in school, but he handles the tracking equipment like a pro. He is a member of the conservation group from Thini village in the shadow of Mt Niligiri in Mustang. Sonia BK is in Grade 7 at the Janwal Secondary School in nearby Marpha, and learnt <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-leads-in-snow-leopard-study-6bo3zybk">about snow leopards</a> in class, and is now being trained with her parents in tracking and monitoring the elusive and endangered animals. &nbsp; “At first, I thought snow leopards were just cats, but after I started learning about their behaviour and habitat in school, I realised why it was<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/guarding-the-guardians-of-the-himalaya"> important to protect them</a>,” she says. Milan and Sonia were part of a snow leopard conservation program involving 750 students from Grades 6, 7, and 8 in schools across Mustang and in Taplejung district in eastern Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814110824_b04fbd665db49f9dd1292f72b97759790d51438394eabdf3bedb22bf06f12fe0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250814110824_b04fbd665db49f9dd1292f72b97759790d51438394eabdf3bedb22bf06f12fe0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1013" loading="lazy" alt="Youth action to protect the wilderness NT"> </figure>  Their fieldbook was the Conservation Education Reference Book published by Nepal’s Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation, Teka Group Nepal and the US-based Snow Leopard Conservancy. “The book helps teach students about conservation, involves the community in conservation activities, and enables them to value <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-the-tri-junction-of-wildlife-conservation-conflict-and-co-existence">coexistence between humans and wildlife</a>,” says author Anil Adhikari of Teka.&nbsp; He adds, “The students will grow up to be the guardians of the community, enabling them to understand the importance of conservation from a young age will have long-term benefits for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/trekking-to-save-nepals-snow-leopards">protection of snow leopards</a>.” The young conservationists are now putting their theoretical knowledge into practice by participating in the Snow Leopard Scouts Monitoring Camp and Snow Leopard Nature Tour organised across 12 communities in the cat’s habitats in Mustang and Taplejung.&nbsp; Snow leopards live on steep slopes at elevations from 3,000-5,500m and are found in 12 countries besides Nepal: India, Bhutan, Pakistan, China, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Mongolia, and Russia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814100824_766e41651af1efabbc937685aa5e3e94a3e58e8fb55a9752adad1d0667c32071.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250814100824_766e41651af1efabbc937685aa5e3e94a3e58e8fb55a9752adad1d0667c32071" data-rendition-name="original" width="1508" height="865" loading="lazy" alt="Snow Leopard map"> </figure>  The government's census earlier this year put the number of big cat population in Nepal at 397.&nbsp; The animal is at the top of the Himalayan food chain and therefore an indicator species of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-tigers-trees-and-rivers">healthy ecosystem</a>. Their presence indicates that their prey base, including sables, ghoral and musk deer are also in abundance. &nbsp; The mainly nocturnal hunters are endangered due to increasing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/not-out-of-the-woods-yet">human-wildlife conflict</a>, poaching, and effects of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya">climate crisis</a>. In response, Nepal launched the Community-Based Snow Leopard Conservation Program in 2022.&nbsp; “The children might get bored with regular lessons, but they study this reference book with great interest,” notes Dhruba Baral, a conservation teacher at Janashanti Secondary School in Kagbeni. “The students are aware that snow leopards attack livestock, but there is now greater awareness about safely corralling yaks and sheep, as well as protect snow leopards.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ghosts-of-the-himalaya">Ghosts of the Himalaya</a>, Sonia Awale Bheshraj Bastola, a conservation teacher at Janhit Secondary School in Jomsom takes students on field trips to see how to minimise human-wildlife conflict, and the role of the community.&nbsp; “Students understand these issues through factual stories from conservationists and experts, community work and interactions with parents,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814110824_5213a45ea9ff4aa50d9ef06ad6e8354d441321b588d87dd0602ccf9f216f79d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250814110824_5213a45ea9ff4aa50d9ef06ad6e8354d441321b588d87dd0602ccf9f216f79d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="789" loading="lazy" alt="Youth action to protect the wilderness NT"> </figure>  Sanju Sanwa, a Grade 8 student &nbsp;in Taplejung, learned about snow leopard conservation from books. Now, she teaches her parents about protecting <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/snow-leopard-redux">the big cats</a>.&nbsp; “The children in this region have never seen or encountered a snow leopard, but they know about its habitat, diet, and behaviour,” says Chandramani Limbu, a school principal in Taplejung. Mustang’s Gharpajhong Rural Municipality has now included snow leopards in the curricula for Grades 1, 2 and 3. Taplejung’s Faktalung Rural Municipality has done the same in the east. Snow leopards are considered culturally and spiritually significant to Nepal’s indigenous mountain communities, and are regarded as ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/guarding-the-guardians-of-the-himalaya">God’s pets</a>’. This has helped in conservation efforts.&nbsp; The indigenous communities in the Himalaya were already bound by tradition and religion to protect snow leopards, the conservation laws came along much later, says snow leopard expert Kamal Thapa. “The people understand that the snow leopard is a vital part of the ecosystem, and have taken &nbsp;ownership of the animal and its protection,” adds Thapa.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814110824_ffe5fb4b91e503d3dcdcfea8d363b4445f971dd90716c269d4b5335a93b61797.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250814110824_ffe5fb4b91e503d3dcdcfea8d363b4445f971dd90716c269d4b5335a93b61797" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1013" loading="lazy" alt="Youth action to protect the wilderness NT"> </figure>  Recently, a snow leopard broke into a livestock shed and killed goats in Mustang. The animal was captured and reintroduced into the wild by Annapurna Conservation Area (ACA). &nbsp; “Snow leopards are usually rescued and released elsewhere,” explains Umesh Poudel, head of ACA in Lo Manthang. “We operate under the assumption that the animals will not be similarly disruptive in a new area.” Snow leopards have been trapped or poisoned by local herders. Some animals also venture into lower valleys in winter in search of prey.&nbsp; “Farmers used to get angry when livestock was killed, but there is now more awareness that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/crying-wolf?fb_comment_id=1845044222229359_1845929162140865">predators need protection</a>,” says Jamuna Thakali Thapa, vice-chair of Gharpajhong. Farmers are also insured so they are compensated in case of livestock loss. The deeply devout Buddhists here rarely engage in retaliatory attacks against snow leopards because they consider the animal sacred, and also because they are well aware of legal repercussions.&nbsp; “Learning about snow leopards from childhood makes more people <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepal-s-conservation-heroes">inclined towards conservation</a>, and has a long-term positive impact on the community,” says Narayan Rupakheti, former Under Secretary at the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation. The youth-led conservation programs in Mustang and Taplejung is now being replicated in other snow leopard regions. &nbsp;

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Youth action to protect the wilderness

Every year in the first month of the Tibetan calendar, devotees observe the ritual of Lo Monlam Chenmo within the holy month of Saga Dawa to mark the birth, enlightenment, and parinirvana of the Buddha. Lo Monlam Chenmo literally translates into the Great Prayer Festival of Mustang and earlier this month was observed for a week during which devotees chanted mantras over a million times for the long life and wellbeing of all sentient beings, for the continuation, survival and spread of Dharma, and for world peace.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_4d20d5af25d55ea83e6ee9784a53e689b683172433678fc9cdf1566f53a08013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250612090640_4d20d5af25d55ea83e6ee9784a53e689b683172433678fc9cdf1566f53a08013" data-rendition-name="original" width="2222" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>  The annual prayer vigil drew 578 monks and nuns and hundreds of local people to the monastery town of Jharkot near Muktinath. The festival has been observed for over 600 years, but saw a decline in the second half of the 20th century when Monlam Chenmo was used to pray for the long life of the Dalai Lama. “Lo Monlam Chenmo was revived in Nepal seven years ago with much donation from the locals, many of whom have migrated overseas,” says Kunjon Thakuri of the Norbusum Foundation in Jharkot supporting traditional culture, local education, and the preservation of Mustangi heritage. “The festival will be held in Upper Mustang next year and again in Lower Mustang the year after, as the two regions take turns every other year.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_d71a82b0d6f523a482d329177d8c477ec41ead13b23fab9fa96d558a85a0b003.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250612090640_d71a82b0d6f523a482d329177d8c477ec41ead13b23fab9fa96d558a85a0b003" data-rendition-name="original" width="2222" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>  The festival is also celebrated in Tibet, parts of Nepal including Kathmandu, Ladakh and Sikkim in India as well as Bhutan. The Monlam Chenmo festival was first conducted for two weeks at the start of the new year in Tibet in 1409 by Lama Tsongkhapa to commemorate the miracles performed by Shakyamuni Buddha. The final day is the full moon which was on 11 June this week, is also called the Day of Miracles when several festivals and rituals are held.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_f46dd6637308bec26b0d9416defe9173d40b2580734b1a9b76421715d19a48bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250612090640_f46dd6637308bec26b0d9416defe9173d40b2580734b1a9b76421715d19a48bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2222" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_c96c61cd0bd46b66f28eb1f436dcee2cd95a6b368b35c3ea1a44cb131e3e17bd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250612090640_c96c61cd0bd46b66f28eb1f436dcee2cd95a6b368b35c3ea1a44cb131e3e17bd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1607" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>  “The grande finale is considered an auspicious day for prayer and practice, and good deeds on this day are multiplied exponentially,” adds Thakuri. “As such, all major Buddhist shrines including Swayambhu and Boudhanath see prayers gather from midnight on the last day. Many attempt a 21 kora clockwise circumambulation of Swayambhu on the very day, a gruelling 30km on foot. Others do a 108 circumambulation of a sacred site during the month of Saga Dawa as a way of purifying one's karma and gaining spiritual merit.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_a8f518e680714a0a2f7227ffed1c321cfa4e424a150c09c1a9ed7ec90c2ef486.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250612090640_a8f518e680714a0a2f7227ffed1c321cfa4e424a150c09c1a9ed7ec90c2ef486" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>  Throughout the festival, devotees can also choose to perform their own puja including श्राद्ध, a Hindu ritual to honour deceased ancestors. Jharkot’s proximity to Muktinath also means that the festival is observed by Hindus and Buddhists alike. Devotees also abstain from killing and harming living creatures as well as practice vegetarianism for the whole month of Saga Dawa, in line with the Buddhist principle of non-violence (अहिंसा). People can also choose to make donations (दान) including drinks and food to participating monks and monasteries in acts of compassion.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612090640_db8325c332b9f794fa84748bbfac0b59a5061f042ab6eac592f74ae6074b9835.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250612090640_db8325c332b9f794fa84748bbfac0b59a5061f042ab6eac592f74ae6074b9835" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="2217" loading="lazy" alt="A million mantras in Mustang NT"></figure>  In many ways, the festival bears similarities to another month-long celebration observed by Newar Buddhists, primarily in Kathmandu. Gunla, which translates into the month of merits, is the tenth month in the Nepal Sambat calendar which typically falls during the monsoon. Gunla is a time for spiritual reflection on the Dharma by reciting the scriptures, fasting, playing devotional music, going on pilgrimages and attaining the five moral precepts known as the (पञ्चशील) -- abstaining from killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying and taking intoxicants.

Sonia Awale

A million mantras in Mustang

As a struggling photographer in Bhaktapur 30 years ago, Kishor Kayastha could not even afford furniture. Buying a new lens was out of the question. Later, as one of Nepal’s <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1520">top fashion and travel photographers</a>, Kayastha toured the world, doing shoots in exotic places for famous brands. Money was not as much a limiting factor anymore. Then came the accident. The shoot team was caught in a blizzard in Mustang in 2019, when Kayastha and the horse he was riding tumbled down a steep slope in whiteout conditions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025010810014_4df10f4086c81192b5e9fdda030c3d2b2b186b549c9b0683a6922dc4b4699ce6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025010810014_4df10f4086c81192b5e9fdda030c3d2b2b186b549c9b0683a6922dc4b4699ce6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3714" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_fe7e94e613c7c6de648043252095475c789260a9a66f88d5d7e349bab9f21c98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250108050116_fe7e94e613c7c6de648043252095475c789260a9a66f88d5d7e349bab9f21c98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  “My whole life flashed before me,” he recalls, “I was filled with regret for all work I had not done. I suddenly realised all the money in the world cannot buy you life. Miraculously, Kayastha survived and the near-death experience was an epiphany that changed the trajectory of his life. Since then, his photographs have a more dreamlike tone, the visuals documenting an observed reality but transcending it. Which is why a visit to Kishor Kayastha’s ongoing exhibition of 30 ultra-wide panoramas at Nepal Art Council, MUSTANG: A Two-Decade Odyssey, feels like a pilgrimage to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/hibernating-students-of-the-himalaya">Mustang</a>: it is the next best thing to being there oneself. The high resolution prints are vast, some of them 6m wide, and do justice to Mustang’s big sky and the wrinkled, ochre terrain of this arid trans-Himalayan district. Kayastha has been going to Mustang at least four times a year for the past two decades, and the exhibition spans the time in which much has changed with the arrival of the highway, outmigration and climate breakdown. But a lot remains the same. “I first went in 2004 mainly because I could not go to Tibet,” Kayastha relates. “And I found there is a Tibet in Nepal, too. Mustang has always been a refuge, a beyul, to escape the materialistic world of Kathmandu.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_41d004484b0a3471cc441b23360fe187eda813c19ca26314795215f428ddcbaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250108050116_41d004484b0a3471cc441b23360fe187eda813c19ca26314795215f428ddcbaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_131a471fb81aa7d0d314bf08bd5912951bb20d0d3b6977e1c1ff523da6456500.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250108050116_131a471fb81aa7d0d314bf08bd5912951bb20d0d3b6977e1c1ff523da6456500" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="912" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  Kayastha, now 47, was born into photography. His <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14249">parents owned a studio</a> in Bhaktapur, and as a boy he helped his mother in the darkroom, dipping black and white prints into developers and fixers under a dim red light. Today, everyone with a mobile device is taking pictures, but Kayastha believes photography is more relevant than ever: “Selfies have become selfish. Like they said that the invention of the camera would make paintings obsolete, photography is not going away either.” &nbsp; Anyone who has travelled north of Kagbeni, especially <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/mustang-in-shadows-and-light">in the old days</a> before Sumo jeeps replaced mule trains, will appreciate the tranquility of this windswept plateau where time stood still.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_d478c15cb66377326d0ef88b70f38eaeb9f20b97bd06d7753f04671550881545.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250108050116_d478c15cb66377326d0ef88b70f38eaeb9f20b97bd06d7753f04671550881545" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  “The horizon is so wide, the sky so immense, the land so unending that Mustang makes you feel small in the scheme of things. It brings you down to size, both physically and spiritually,” Kayastha says. The extra-wide prints were so big, even the Nepal Art Council’s walls could not accommodate all of them, so Kayastha had to scale some of the photographs down. The sheer size of the images evoke in visitors the finiteness of human existence in time and space.&nbsp; Kayastha speaks to us as he unrolls a stitched panorama of Kagbeni he took in 2004. That image and another one taken from the same spot in 2024 serve as bookends at the exhibition, revealing through repeat photography the passage of time. Kagbeni’s monastery complex is now much bigger, there are new concrete buildings, and scars from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-lost-cannot-be-repaid">the great flood last year</a> that tore through town.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_063acabfe6e991f69e1d5eaace3620b4136f2212135f899a5ac0c4e5011e31e6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250108050116_063acabfe6e991f69e1d5eaace3620b4136f2212135f899a5ac0c4e5011e31e6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250108050116_cb401c5d83a34e999f96ab24a69dae2cbe525d575a3a798182ab09bab2490628.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250108050116_cb401c5d83a34e999f96ab24a69dae2cbe525d575a3a798182ab09bab2490628" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="Eyes wide open in Mustang NT"> </figure>  Yet, beyond and above the Kali Gandaki’s fossil-strewn banks, the russet brown folds in the rock strata remind us that in geological timescale human beings have been here for less than a millisecond of a camera’s shutter speed. Kishor Kayastha’s exhibition forces us to think that Mustang’s fierce afternoon winds will keep sculpting its dyed organ pipe cliffs long after we are not here to see them.&nbsp; MUSTANG: A Two Decade Odyssey by Kishor Kayastha Till 14 January, 11AM-4PM Nepal Art Council

Kunda Dixit

Eyes wide open in Mustang

Before the road got here to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Nepal’s prime apple growing region</a>, the bumper fruit harvest would rot in the orchards in autumn. Farmers tried to feed apples to livestock, but the cattle were sick of eating it. There were few jobs, a war was going on, and most young men migrated out of this spectacularly scenic but isolated region along the Kali Gandaki River between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri. &nbsp; Saroj Tulachan was one of them. He left his small homestead near Tukuche and walked five days to Pokhara, took a bus to Kathmandu and through contacts got a job as a chef in Japan. “I was just like a coolie there, working in the kitchen, but I learnt a lot about farming techniques in my spare time, and kept dreaming of the day I would return to Nepal with savings in my pocket,” says Tulachan. But it took him 16 long years to come back. &nbsp; But much more important than savings, he came back with a dream. In the beginning, like most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">returnees</a>, he struggled to adjust and find a meaningful job to pay for high living expenses. Then the Covid pandemic hit, and Tulachan fell ill.&nbsp; “I said to myself, why am I staying in the city when my home in the mountains is safe and a heaven on earth?” Tulachan recalls, his face wrinkled in a wide smile.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240719070744_9a3e0f07e70d7c2b0c2b0f717c947e09a8d2fffb31a25fc7e1690171897f5846.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240719070744_9a3e0f07e70d7c2b0c2b0f717c947e09a8d2fffb31a25fc7e1690171897f5846" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1313" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government NT"> <figcaption>He has combined his apple farm with an eco-tourism resort in the lap of Mt Nilgiri, added a cold store and expanded his orchard.</figcaption> </figure>  Tulachan’s dream was always to return to his native <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/leaky-roofs-on-the-roof-of-the-world">Mustang</a>, Covid just made him bring the plan forward. What he has achieved since coming back is a remarkable example of passion, simple technical innovation and marketing skills transforming rural Nepal in just a few years. Improving on the knowledge about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/tara-pariyar-s-karnali">apple farming</a> that he learnt from his father, Tulachan uses a high-density tall spindle farming method to grow apples vertically like vines rather than trees. The system improves productivity through early yield, better fruit quality, and reduced costs for care. Each plant produces more than a much bigger tree of the local Marpha variety, and the fruits fetch a higher price in markets in Pokhara and Kathmandu. In the past year, business has been so successful that Tulachan has expanded from the orchard he inherited from his father to buy and lease more property along the Kali Gandaki floodplain. He is also helping neighbouring farms in Tukuche, Marpha and Jomsom to adopt the new technique. “It does not make sense only for me to do well, the whole community needs to benefit,” says Tulachan. “What is most important is self-fulfillment and happiness, I can’t take my money with me when I die.” And Tulachan is happiest among his apple trees. He is up at the crack of dawn and with his garden shears is off for a morning of pruning, training and grafting apple plants. He has built his own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/access-to-water-changes-the-face-of-rural-nepal">irrigation system</a> channeling water from a nearby stream. Learning from his Japan stay, he has also established a ryokan-style inn called Mustang Eco Hill Resort by the Pokhara-Jomsom highway with a restaurant serving organic produce from his farm, and a gift shop.&nbsp; A new addition to Tulachan’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">eco-tourism</a> and apple orchard venture is a cold storage which evens out the autumn glut after the apple harvest when prices are low, so the fruits fetch a higher price in April-May.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240719070744_e6340bb121f63c35a376fc72eba640e8cc6e5bbb74464b26742ba3dddde1696a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240719070744_e6340bb121f63c35a376fc72eba640e8cc6e5bbb74464b26742ba3dddde1696a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1166" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government NT"> </figure>  “If you want to get rich quick, this is not your line of business,” warns Tulachan, walking between neat rows of tall spindle apple stems to check on his drip irrigation system. “You have to be patient, and plan ten years into the future.” His Japanese high density apple variety takes only three years to ripen, compared to 15 years for local trees. Presently, the farm harvests 18 tons of apple every season, and with the new plants in his expanded farm, Tulachan expects 40 tons. The farm makes Rs3.5 million in profit every year, which goes for upkeep, servicing loans and upgrading his inn.&nbsp; Traders now come all the way from Kathmandu to book Tulachan’s apples. His apple varieties sell for Rs400 per kg at Bhatbhateni department stores, more than three times more than the traditional Marpha variety. A flag of Nepal flutters proudly in the afternoon wind on the roof of the Mustang Eco Hill Resort, and Tulachan says Nepalis who stop at his farm marvel that there is a place like this in Nepal. He has set an example that it is possible to run a profitable business and create jobs despite the government. He says: “There is no point blaming the government, we can do a lot by ourselves. If they just scaled up what I have done here to the national level by investing in tourism, agriculture and hydropower, Nepal can also be prosperous.”

Mustang farmer shows what is possible despite government

Mustang district is in the cold and arid trans-Himalayan region of Nepal, and used to get very little rain. But with climate breakdown, precipitation patterns have changed, bringing frequent winter drought and summer floods. This is forcing families here to abandon traditional flat-roofed, mud-walled house designs for modern reinforced concrete and brick structures that can better withstand heavy rainfall. Most flat roofs of Mustang homes used to be stacked with precious firewood, and the size of the pile indicated the family’s affluence. A large stack suggested wealth, and even better marriage prospects. Roofs lined with juniper branches are still an integral part of Mustang’s architecture and identity, and is a tourist attraction in a part of Nepal that is geologically and culturally close to Tibet. The firewood fits together like tetris, capping the clay roofs of houses with sloping rammed earth walls, traditionally plastered with white, black and orange clay. The late artist Robert Powell documented Mustang’s architecture with detailed paintings in his book, Earth Door Sky Door (pictured) which explained that the firewood on the roof, besides signifying status, also protected the clay roofs and walls from melting snow. The front yards and porches of these houses are laid in stone, as are the main paths that run through towns like Marpha. Altogether there is a cohesive, congruent feeling to the architecture.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906070_2f3802c7544ab3492acea14a615a4f465a520402e22e4e40d8694a76414dc17c.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024071906070_2f3802c7544ab3492acea14a615a4f465a520402e22e4e40d8694a76414dc17c" data-rendition-name="original" width="817" height="664" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"></figure>  But the roofs on the Roof of the World are changing. Unusually heavy rains caused by the climate crisis means the roofs now leak and the mud walls dissolve in downpours. Traditional buildings are being torn down to be replaced with cement houses. Mustang is now connected to the rest of Nepal by a new highway, and this means families use LPG cylinders to cook and do not need firewood anymore. Kamala Linchin runs a hotel built in the local style in Marpha, but is replacing it with a multi-storey cement structure. “Even after repairs, there are a lot of problems with this house,” she explains, “The firewood rots, the roof leaks, and the walls break down. It is costly to maintain and I am losing business.” Linchin has noticed the change in weather patterns: it snows very little, if at all, in winter, and there are summer storms that unleash flash floods and torrential rain. She adds, “It used to snow so much in Mustang that you couldn’t leave your house for months. We stored firewood for cooking and heating. But it doesn’t matter how much firewood you store now, it rots quickly, and water starts dripping from the roof.” Two years ago, her neighbour Ripesh Linchin was also forced to build a concrete house with a sloping tile roof. He tells us: “The firewood on the roof may look photogenic for tourists but it leaks, and your sons want a more comfortable house. What to do?”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906074_a14ddd5493310227facabab2a5722423fab361cf201585d1a69822aa7cc3e035.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024071906074_a14ddd5493310227facabab2a5722423fab361cf201585d1a69822aa7cc3e035" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1688" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"><figcaption>Juniper firewood on a roof of a house in Lo Manthang. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>  In nearby Gharpajhong, village chair Mohan Singh Lalchan has data that show a shift in the style of houses. Sixty of the 600 houses in the village now have tin or concrete roofs and the trend is catching on. Gas cylinders are available even in the remotest villages in Mustang, so people do not need to stack firewood on their roofs anymore. This is not necessarily a bad thing: government-subsidised gas means less pressure on high altitude forests where trees take a lot longer to grow. Kitchens are also less smoky now, so children are less exposed to respiratory ailments. Just about every family in Mustang has someone working in Japan, South Korea or the US, and the money they send means households can buy cooking gas, and build modern houses. The main reason for the shift, though, is climate breakdown, Lalchan says, adding: “It used to snow so much that flights at Jomsom airport would be cancelled for weeks, but it’s been a while since that happened. Now the only snow we see is on top of Mt Nilgiri.” Rainfall data from Nepal’s Department of Hydrology and Meteorology also shows heavier precipitation in summer. In 2010, there was 286mm of rain in Jomsom. By 2018, total precipitation was 301mm. In 2020 403mm of rain fell, with a whopping 666mm in 2021. In the last 14 years, average annual rainfall has doubled, sometimes triggering destructive flash floods like the ones in Lubra and Kagbeni. Data also shows an increase in temperature. In 2011, the average annual temperature here was 17.68°C, and last year it was 18°C. Other meteorological stations in Mustang show similar increases.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024071906074_f70c10a5189deedf82a66a1f5a4b986c7705184adccaaeb5ba5db060b538a9d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024071906074_f70c10a5189deedf82a66a1f5a4b986c7705184adccaaeb5ba5db060b538a9d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2376" loading="lazy" alt="Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World NT"><figcaption>The late artist Robert Powell's book Earth Door Sky Door had paintings of Mustang's architectural heritage. One of the water colours shows a traditional Mustang house with sloping rammed earth walls and firewood on the flat roof.</figcaption></figure>  Environmental researcher Hemu Kafle warns that even a 0.1% change in average annual temperature or rainfall can cause drastic changes in weather. In Manang and Mustang districts, vegetables can now be grown and apple orchards have recorded higher yields. Sociologist Krishna Bhattachan notes that the most affected by these changes are Mustang’s indigenous people. He says, “For many of Mustang’s natives, cement will never be an alternative to wood, culturally and economically. The government needs to help find an ideal solution.” Tourists have to pay a $500 fee for a 15-day permit to visit Upper Mustang where visitor numbers are controlled to protect local culture. Mustang has been voted among the 52 must-go places by the New York Times for the second year in a row in 2024, and what attracts tourists is the region’s unique and fragile heritage and architecture. The firewood roof tradition is an important part of the tourism economy even as globalisation homogenises the world. Juddha Gurung is an expert in natural resources and tourism, and he thinks the way to go is to make local communities more aware of their heritage so they protect it. “The number of new-fashioned houses is still quite small. This is a result of economic and social change in the locality, so the local government must get active about this,” says Gurung. Head of Gharpajhong village Mohan Lalchan is worried that modernity and climate change will erode Mustang’s identity, affecting tourism. “We are examining how we can support local families to keep the traditional look of their homes,” he told us. Architects say a compromise between modern architecture and tradition is possible. A firewood-stacked roof need not be demolished to prevent leaks. In fact, some homes have poured concrete on their roofs while keeping the traditional façade of the stone and clay plaster houses. With another monsoon now bringing fresh showers, Mustang looks like it is in a race against time to save what is left.

Leaky roofs on the Roof of the World

On 28 May, as the rest of Nepal was celebrating Republic Day, here in Mustang King Jigme Singe Palbar Bistawas being treated like royalty. The king himself is deeply involved with many problems faced by this once-isolated finger of Nepal sticking out into the Tibetan Plateau. Although there is now a road linking Lo Manthang to the rest of Nepal, the district faces challenges of under-development, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/comings-and-goings-in-mustang">lack of jobs and outmigration</a>, cultural preservation, and lately the impact of climate breakdown. As the king travels around his district, the people of Mustang treat him with visible affection and respect. And the feeling seems to be mutual. The district survives mostly on income from tourism and remittances from Mustang people living in Japan, Korea and the United States. The mostly elderly residents come out to greet their king and their main concern is about the lack of water due to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">climate crisis</a>. Winter snowfall has failed for several years, while there are torrential downpours during the summer in this usually arid region. There have been destructive floods when glacial lakes burst last year in Kagbeni last year and in Lubra in 2021. Elsewhere, entire villages have had to relocate because springs and streams have gone dry. The king was born in Thingkar village in Upper Mustang 67 years ago, and remembers there used to be much more snow in the mountains during his childhood. “The whole landscape has changed, the snow and the ponds are all gone,” he tells us during a walkabout.&nbsp; “In the past, the weather pattern was predictable, snow in winter, some rain the monsoon and the winds would blow as expected,” he adds. “Now everything is unpredictable. The future does not look good at all.” Data from the Jomsom station of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that average annual temperature rose from 17.7°C in 2012 to 18.2°C last year. This trans-Himalayan region is in the rainshadow, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon">summer rain volume went up</a> from 286mm in 2011 to 666mm in 2021, damaging traditional stone and mud houses. But in winter there has been no snow for several years. The change in weather has also forced many to abandon traditional flat top architecture for tin roofs and cement walls. Warmer weather means new pathogens are moving up the mountains, but also apple orchards and vegetable patches are possible where it was too cold before.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240611040648_add720880bcfcd6a04270ba9ad854f1b6a1457c5c55b012e147fc6b4e3bd5a0e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240611040648_add720880bcfcd6a04270ba9ad854f1b6a1457c5c55b012e147fc6b4e3bd5a0e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2965" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang king NT"> <figcaption>Jigme Singe Palbar Bista, the monarch of Mustang</figcaption> </figure>  “The climate crisis poses a threat to all traditionally built houses, including monasteries, and heritage structures,” says the king, who is actively involved in climate adaptation work through the Lo Gyalpo Jigme Foundation, named after his father. “We are now carrying out a comprehensive study of how climate change will affect Mustang, and will plan depending on findings.” The king fondly remembers his father, Jigme Dorje Palbar Bista, who died in 2016. He says he worked tirelessly for the development of Mustang and the welfare of its people. During his reign, he focused on reconstructing and preserving dilapidated monasteries and shrines and ensuring that Mustang was not affected by politics in Kathmandu, and by geopolitics.&nbsp; “My father always kept the welfare of the community as his number one priority,” says the king.&nbsp; Jigme Palwar Bista owned 65 horses, but his son owns only 5 — an indication of the diminishing importance of horses after the road from Jomsom to the Chinese border was built ten years ago. As a boy, the king used to travel three days on horseback from Jomsom, and the animals were integral to the culture and daily life of the Mustang people.&nbsp; Last year, during the wedding of crown prince Jigme Dhindup Phunchok Palwar Bista, Lo Manthang rural municipality declared a public holiday and residents brought their horses to the celebration — altogether 250 of them. “I wanted to hold my son’s wedding in Kathmandu, but the citizens insisted it should be here,” the king confided. “We didn’t ask them to bring their horses, but out of love and respect for the institution, they brought their own horses for the celebration.” The king now spends part of his time in Kathmandu where he looks after his 92-year-old queen step mother. But the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">hustle and bustle of Kathmandu</a> makes him homesick, and he longs to be back to also take care of his resort in Lo Manthang. The eldest brother of the previous King Jigme Palbar Bista died at a young age, another brother became a monk in Dolpo. The former king’s own son also died at a young age, and when his biological mother died, the current king was adopted as the heir to ensure continuity of the royal lineage. The king says Mustang will need help from the international community to cope with the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-lost-cannot-be-repaid">impact of climate breakdown</a>. He says, “We also need to understand the changing climate better, and unite to adapt to its impact.” &nbsp;

The kingdom within a republic

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.thenation.com/issue/may-2024-issue/">the May 2024 issue of The Nation</a> magazine. My first glimpse of Kagbeni in Mustang came with a mix of relief, elation, and a cold foreboding. I had been walking north with my Nepali guide, sturdy 50-year-old Manoj Tamang out of Pokhara, for four days. Dhaulagiri at 8,167m looming to the west and the Annapurna massif to the east, until we had put them behind us.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/soon-monsoon">Soon, monsoon</a>, Anita Bhetwal Now in their rain shadow on the north side of the Himalaya, the landscape quickly turned from alpine to arid high-mountain grassland and desert. We would spend two nights and a full day in Kagbeni at 2,804m before continuing up to Jharkot and Muktinath (3,800m), still the ‘foothills’ by Himalayan standards. Hence the relief, especially for my 56-year-old back and legs which were no match for Manoj’s. As for the elation, it came not only from the vista of Kagbeni’s terraced fields and orchards appearing, like some miraculous oasis, at the foot of barren cliffs and snowless mountainsides.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030540_48e8edcc734cc1dd82514c3d142ad8027b57fe9fd6af2186be6623b39bc90ca6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240518030540_48e8edcc734cc1dd82514c3d142ad8027b57fe9fd6af2186be6623b39bc90ca6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni"> <figcaption>A view of Kagbeni, looking north up the Kali Gandaki valley.</figcaption> </figure>  Since the 12th century, Kagbeni has been the “gateway” to the ancient Kingdom of Lo, known today as Upper Mustang, a restricted area on Nepal’s border with China. Yet today’s Mustang, as <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/14672715.2023.2174891">recent scholarship</a> by the anthropologist Emily Amburgey and others has shown, is no idyllic Shangri-la, thanks to its mix of poverty, uneven development, government neglect, out-migration of the young, and, increasingly, symptoms of climate change (like those snowless mountains during my January visit). Indeed, the foreboding came when I remembered why I was there. Last August, Kagbeni suffered a devastating flood—brought on by extreme rainfall—the likes of which no one living there had ever experienced. I wanted to see the damage and the recovery effort for myself—and I wanted to hear from local people about what climate change means for their lives and communities in the <a href="https://hkh.icimod.org/hi-wise/hi-wise-report/">fast-warming Himalaya</a>. * Kagbeni is built along both banks of the Kag Khola river where it flows into the Kali Gandaki from the east. The original 12th century town, with its traditional flat-roofed mud houses and its medieval monastery and fort, lies on the north side, and the newer part of town to the south.&nbsp; The confluence of the two rivers, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, has made Kagbeni an important stop on the age-old pilgrimage route to the ancient Muktinath temple complex farther up the Kag Khola Gorge. The area is now heavily touristed thanks to a major road completed in 2008. That first afternoon, I made my way along the new town’s main street until it opened suddenly onto what still looked, five months after the flood, like a war zone. The grey rubble of rock, sand, and dried-mud debris, a block wide and a story high, stretched a good 200 yards along both sides of the narrow river.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030540_a02fc741e3dd0e6c639460c046d8fc29a7fd953be48ab0ff731a7f5cee272621.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240518030540_a02fc741e3dd0e6c639460c046d8fc29a7fd953be48ab0ff731a7f5cee272621" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_60cfb13b9bbcd268a6dfe68cdab45678260fc5156e32c3bf0e74a00043b06791.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240518030544_60cfb13b9bbcd268a6dfe68cdab45678260fc5156e32c3bf0e74a00043b06791" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>  &nbsp;The floods that sweep down these river gorges do not just carry water, they consist of a thick, heavy flow of cement-like silt, mud, and rock that levels everything in its path and raises the riverbed by many feet. Think of it not as sea-level rise but riverbed rise, putting homes, schools, stupas and temples, infrastructure, and fields in greater peril with each new flood, which comes more often as global warming alters the South Asian monsoon. Rinzin Namgyal Gurung, the Kagbeni rural municipality chair, laid out the extent of the flood damage for me in an email: eight buildings completely destroyed, including a hotel, a government ward office, a health centre, and a police station, and 19 that suffered partial damage, including the monastery and the secondary school.&nbsp; In all, 27 buildings designated as residential or hotels were destroyed or damaged, plus nine ‘crucial public structures’ (water supply and treatment, irrigation canals, sewers, electricity stations, bridges, and river retaining walls) ‘were also severely affected’. This is a town of just 600 people. Gurung also listed the full extent of recovery funding and assistance the town received from Nepal’s national government: “Ministry of Home Affairs, 10 heavy tents and 15 blankets.” Assistance received so far from international NGOs: none. In the absence of such aid, the Mustang community in Nepal and abroad, has stepped up with a grassroots fundraising campaign. As Mustang faces another monsoon season, the question of longer-term survival is on some people’s minds. * Laxmi Gurung is 49 years old and was born in Kagbeni, where her ancestors have lived for eons. She was away in Kathmandu when I visited Kagbeni, but I caught up with her the following week in the capital’s Swayambhu neighborhood. Laxmi and her brother, a former local-government chairperson, own and run Kagbeni’s Hotel Mustang Gateway and its iconic <a href="https://www.facebook.com/yacdonald/">YacDonald’s restaurant</a>.&nbsp; Together, they founded the Fama Foundation to help preserve Mustang’s traditional culture as the region rapidly develops. Educated at universities in India and New Zealand, Laxmi attended COP28, the latest United Nations Climate Change Conference, in Dubai last December with Nepal’s delegation to advocate for the establishment of a ‘loss and damage’ fund at the UN. Last year’s August flood had damaged the hotel and restaurant, sending a car through a wall.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_e746e002560e33596c8c9beea4fe1210d0ff8f0aa697fd82e55426b049aecc46.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240518030544_e746e002560e33596c8c9beea4fe1210d0ff8f0aa697fd82e55426b049aecc46" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood loss and damage"> <figcaption>Laxmi Gurung's hotel and restaurant was damaged in the Kagbeni flood. She says the 'loss and damage' fund cannot pay for everything that is lost.</figcaption> </figure>  Laxmi described that night in harrowing detail: the intensity of the rain, unlike anything Kagbeni had experienced in the past (the old town’s mud houses, which have survived centuries in the region’s arid climate, are now dissolving under the recent downpours), the warning calls from villages upriver, which saved lives (Kagbeni had no fatalities), the unforgettable sound of heavy debris crashing into buildings in the darkness and of buildings collapsing, the agonising wait to see the damage in first daylight.&nbsp; “It was the longest night,” Laxmi said. But it was the flood’s aftermath that was the most revelatory. “The next day we see everywhere heaps of mud. And we don’t know what to do. Everybody is crying,” Laxmi said.&nbsp; Houses and belongings were buried under the debris, while some items were carried down the Kali Gandaki as far as Lete, 25 miles away. “All the people, from Lubrak, from Muktinath, every village from Upper Mustang to Lower Mustang came with something in hand to help Kagbeni, to move the debris. They came personally to help us, and they also contributed financial help. Mustang is an example that community exists.” “From the government, we still have not got any relief funds,” Laxmi said. Nepal’s Home Ministry and a variety of NGOs “came and watched—they see, they study, and [are] gone.” Pointing out that Kagbeni’s carbon emissions, like Nepal’s as a whole, are negligible, Laxmi asked, “Why are we the ones who suffer a lot? Our memories, heritage, structures, landscapes: gone. And who is to blame for this? Should we blame ourselves? We should get compensation. But who will listen to us? We are a small community, a small mountain village, in one corner of—beyond the Himalaya. Even Nepal’s government believes we are beyond the Himalaya, and we have been neglected.” When asked about her advocacy in Dubai for loss-and-damage funding, and if there are losses that cannot be compensated, she said: “The financial help can establish new houses, infrastructures, but our heritage, our ancestors’ properties, we cannot rebuild. The loss of memories, values, culture, customs cannot be repaid.” * Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung, 36, is a freelance researcher, conservationist, and photographer from Lubrak, a tiny village a few miles south of Kagbeni. Dating back to the 12th century, it has 14 households and is the last village in Mustang entirely following the pre-Buddhist Tibetan Bön religion. Working with Amburgey and other scholars, Yungdrung has researched the effects of climate and social change in Mustang. In June 2021, his family’s small ancestral home in Lubrak was destroyed by a major flood. They have since built a new house higher up the steep mountainside, and he has documented and reported <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">for the Nepali Times</a> on how Lubrak is shifting ground as the floods and rising riverbed overwhelm its ancestral fields and now threaten the heart of the village itself. “Knowingly or not knowingly, local people are already struggling,” Yungdrung said. “In Lubrak, my family was living with the threat of when the flood would happen and we would lose our house. In 2021, it happened overnight. And when we see the snow melting and how the rain pattern is changing, and flood is one of the outcomes, we cannot do much. In our village, most of the old traditional things are already damaged, and we do not have [many options for a] livelihood.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030548_4296e553e89fe3a46fdf156b47e9c0409d40a78f20eaf30df2d23222b9dcf6d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20240518030548_4296e553e89fe3a46fdf156b47e9c0409d40a78f20eaf30df2d23222b9dcf6d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood victim"> <figcaption>Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung, of Lubrak village, at Paradise Trekkers Home in Kagbeni in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  The people of Lubrak are actively discussing whether, how, and where to relocate as a community—a prospect complicated by the fact that, under recent national policy, the community's ancestral land is now owned by the Nepali government. “We cannot build and claim that it belongs to us, like our parents and older generations,” Yungdrung said.&nbsp; His family was the first in Lubrak to lose its home, and the plot on which they rebuilt was allocated through the village’s traditional community decision-making process. But now their ownership, and the village’s ability to relocate on ancestral land, is uncertain.&nbsp; “We do not fit in the Nepal government’s policy,” Yungdrung said. “How can we survive here?” Kagbeni now faces the same issue. Nepal’s central government recently overruled a local decision to allocate community land to flood victims for building new homes. “As authorised land documents remain unavailable, the affected individuals and local authorities are actively pursuing procedures to acquire land from the government,” explained Rinzin Namgyal Gurung, the chairperson. * Asked what would happen if there were suddenly a significant amount of loss-and-damage funding for Mustang, if it would make a difference or if there was a mechanism through which to use the money, Yungdrung did not sound confident.&nbsp; “I don’t see a way through, directly,” he said. “The political situation is not stable. Many people at different political levels will benefit from it, and many NGOs are influenced by political parties. So for now, even if you say in 2024 there will be lots of grants for loss and damage, I don’t think it will reach the ground level. It won’t reach the people who actually suffer.” There’s a simplistic narrative about loss-and-damage funding, which took a long-overdue stride forward at COP28. It suggests that if wealthy Global North nations create a pot of money to compensate the most vulnerable developing countries, among which Nepal ranks in the global top 10, that it will address the problem.&nbsp; It is as if, where the culpable rich nations once said, “They’ll adapt,” the thinking now goes, “We’ll compensate them.” In other words: We’ll help pay for your losses (“Here, will this pocket change do?”) while we keep burning the world, melting your glaciers, and wrecking your monsoon.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030544_90c475a58da9022888aa9eb21e8a34f2b0b4fb62dce33d65fb80564b004c288f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240518030544_90c475a58da9022888aa9eb21e8a34f2b0b4fb62dce33d65fb80564b004c288f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> <figcaption>Buildings damaged by the August 2023 flood in Kagbeni, as seen in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240518030548_0e74d4aa22d583f175cd44f26320733b40c246d5da073941becf1afa140064f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20240518030548_0e74d4aa22d583f175cd44f26320733b40c246d5da073941becf1afa140064f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> <figcaption>Damage and debris from the August 2023 flood in Kagbeni, as seen in January 2024.</figcaption> </figure>  Full loss-and-damage funding for poor countries is a moral and geopolitical imperative. Debt cancellation for developing nations might be a start. But it’s a naïve ‘first world’ fantasy to think that a government like Nepal’s has the capacity to implement climate relief and adaptation measures at scale, however much money is spent, without deep political and structural reforms (as any number of Nepali experts will tell you). What the United States, Europe, and the world’s other advanced economies truly owe the Global South goes well beyond compensation—especially when money itself cannot compensate for what is lost. We owe them nothing less than to break the grip of fossil fuels on our economic and political systems and end the use of coal, oil, and gas <a href="https://www.ecoequity.org/2024/02/after-dubai/">as fast—and as equitably</a>—as possible. That will require a political mobilisation like nothing we’ve yet seen, one that is still, at this late date, nowhere in sight. What, then, do you say to a person like Laxmi Gurung as she looks you in the eye? I had no adequate words. But maybe we should be looking to her for answers. In Kathmandu, I asked Laxmi if she thinks her community will ever abandon Kagbeni or whether her people will stay and fight, come what may. “The day we got the flood,” she told me, emotion in her voice, “we became strong. We said, ‘We should fight.’ We all are traumatised, we feel scared to stay in Kagbeni, but we thought, ‘No, this is our place, this is our home. No matter what, we should fight.’ So we all get together, and then the community all came. Then we began to say, ‘Oh, if we stand, everybody is with us. Why not stand?’” <a href="https://wenstephenson.com/">Wen Stephenson</a> is a veteran journalist, essayist, and climate-justice activist. A frequent contributor to <a href="https://www.thenation.com/authors/wen-stephenson/">The Nation</a> and <a href="https://thebaffler.com/authors/wen-stephenson">The Baffler</a>, he is the author of <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/250727/what-were-fighting-for-now-is-each-other-by-wen-stephenson/">What We’re Fighting for Now Is Each Other: Dispatches From the Front Lines of Climate Justice</a> (2015). His forthcoming book, Learning to Live in the Dark: Essays in a Time of Catastrophe, will be published next year.

What is lost cannot be repaid

The hallmark of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">climate breakdown in the Himalaya</a> is that it does not rain when and where it is supposed to, but pours at the wrong time in areas it ought not to. The trans-Himalayan Mustang region has had successive snowless winters but has experienced heavy monsoon downpours most characteristic of the southern foothills. But local and national governments seem ill-prepared to deal with this anomaly. The lack of readiness was seen in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/smoke-screen">unprecedented wildfires in March-April</a>, which was partly due to a long winter drought. Soon, the monsoon will be upon us and the government appears to be doing little more than quantifying the death and destruction from floods and landslides. On 13 August 2023, Namyak Gurung of Kagbeni in Mustang saw a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">flash flood </a>that he had never seen in his 50-year life. Cloudbursts the day before set off landslides that dammed the Kag Khola, a tributary of the Kali Gandaki. &nbsp; The lake burst, destroying 30 of the 125 houses in the village. A police station, monasteries, bridges, a hospital, and a school were damaged. No one was killed because there were warning calls from people upstream. Nearly a year later, Kagbeni still looks like a war zone and the people dread the coming rainy season.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024052105050_0d7573f0ee787c01a56237486f98b6f2230ca3d3b6a9c778ce16841ba753e94c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024052105050_0d7573f0ee787c01a56237486f98b6f2230ca3d3b6a9c778ce16841ba753e94c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Kagbeni flood"> </figure>  “I couldn’t leave the place of my ancestors," says Namyak who has relocated to his brother’s place after his two-storied building was destroyed. “I’m now building my new house a long way above the river. But I keep getting nightmares of another flood.”&nbsp; Tenzing Gurung, 36, was rescued from the second floor of her lodge in Kagbeni. Grey sand and boulders still cover the yard and the river now runs through what used to be the gate to her lodge. “I had never thought something like this could happen here,” says Tenzing. “We are scared, but where can we go?” The flood also damaged the local Janashanti Secondary School where two of Tenzing’s sons study. The school needs immediate relocation, but nothing has been done. “I just pray that the next flood doesn’t happen when my sons are in school,” adds Tenzing. Mustang and Manag districts are supposed to be in the Himalayan rainshadow, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come">precipitation patterns are changing</a>. Light monsoon rains have turned into destructive torrents followed by long periods of drought. In June 2021, Manang got all of its average annual rainfall of 300mm in just one week. A wall of water, mud, boulders and logs rushed down the Marsyangdi River, washing away the highway, bridges, settlements and other infrastructure in Taal and Chame villages. “We have seen that the trans-Himalayan regions are now getting more rain than before, the whole rainfall pattern has changed,” says meteorologist Rajendra Sharma of the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA). He adds: “In the past, when it rained in Mustang, it happened gently over a period of time but now, we get everything in a day or two. Such heavy downpours increase the risk of floods and landslides.”&nbsp; In the last 10 years, a total of 1,500 floods, 2,500 landslides, and 1,549 high rainfall events occurred across the country and killed 2,141 people, second only to the 2015 Nepal earthquake. Yet the state appears ill-prepared to prevent the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lost-and-damaged">loss of life and damage</a> — even though not all the destruction can be blamed solely on climate breakdown.&nbsp; “From the Manang and Melamchi floods in 2021 to last year’s Mustang, all of these are weather-related disasters, and the rate of these incidents has increased due to climate change,” says climate expert Dharma Upreti. Although climatologists do not directly blame individual disasters on climate change, they say there is a correlation between rising global temperatures, higher sea surface temperatures contributing to more water vapour in the atmosphere.&nbsp; The Himalaya is also heating faster than the global average due to a phenomenon called ‘Elevation Dependent Warming’. Melting mountains also pose the additional risk of glacial lake outbursts and avalanches.&nbsp; The South Asian Climate Outlook Forum (SASCOF) has projected above-normal rainfall for Nepal this monsoon. And with less than a month before the onset of the rains, Nepal is not prepared. And here in Kagbeni, people have still not recovered from last year’s disaster. The NDRRMA’s primary focus is post-disaster humanitarian aid and relief such as stockpiling food, medicines, tents, electricity supply and connectivity — <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/disastrous-preparedness">not so much on preparedness</a>. “We do not have sufficient resources to manage damage caused by disasters year after year, the local government should step up,” says NDRRMA chief Anil Pokhrel. The lack of preparedness and coordination between line agencies means slow response to floods. Local governments are first responders, but do not have the financial support or technical know-how to deal with disasters on their own. Says district administrator Hom Bahadur Thapa Magar in Kagbeni: “Another monsoon is coming, and given what happened last year, we urgently need to build embankments but we do not have the resources or manpower to do so.”

Soon, monsoon

While much of the discourse about &nbsp;<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/winds-of-change-sweep-mustang">Mustang district concern</a>s its people leaving for better opportunities overseas, what is less well known is that Nepalis from other parts of the country are moving in. Mustang's population is the second smallest among 77 districts, and it is falling due to out-migration. The resident population in the 2021 census was 14,452, with 5,882 people from other parts of Nepal. &nbsp;&nbsp; One of them is Nima Lama, 24. He was born and raised in Kathmandu, and migrated to Mustang to work in the service industry three years ago. He had been searching for a job in Kathmandu for months, but finally found an opening at a hotel in Mustang through a placement agency.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309060_4e4405cf10e6f127f90a1cd40feda0b9d8d69efd13093a2563530ca31489ba9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023062309060_4e4405cf10e6f127f90a1cd40feda0b9d8d69efd13093a2563530ca31489ba9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="509" loading="lazy" alt="Upper Mustang"> <figcaption>Lo Manthang is located amidst rolling arid hills of the trans-Himalayan Plateau, Tilicho Peak and Nilgiri in the far distance on the southern horizon.</figcaption> </figure>  “I was skeptical at first, but the job felt appealing and unique, so I decided to come here,” says Lama, pointing that the region with its unique topography and weather offers good opportunities. &nbsp;&nbsp; Mustang is the part of Nepal that juts out into China and is geologically and culturally a part of the Tibetan Plateau. In the past five months, about 60,000 foreign tourists visited Mustang mainly for trekking and pilgrimage to Muktinath. There are many thousands more Nepali visitors.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_dc336f11c6099d1642aeae6e6dc0027d86aabb5328367c8663b30f04187491a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230623100648_dc336f11c6099d1642aeae6e6dc0027d86aabb5328367c8663b30f04187491a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 2"> <figcaption>Many of the shops in Lo Manthang are shuttered because locals moved out, and tourism collapsed for two years due to Covid.</figcaption> </figure>  Some 2,000 foreign tourists also travelled to the restricted region of Upper Mustang by buying a special permit that costs $500 per person for 15 days. Mustang has a range of hotels that cater to high-end and budget tourists, and everything in between. Most homeowners have migrated, and have rented their lodges and hotels to new migrants from other parts of Nepal. Bikram BK, 27, who is from Baglung has been a horse guide for Muktinath pilgrims for the last six years. Local Mustang residents own the horses, but employ people from &nbsp;outside to tend to their horses.&nbsp; “It was difficult finding a job in Baglung, and this was a good offer,” BK says. “The work is easy and I like taking care of horses.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_7a69c06dc99e4793716ada2308efa73157b7276fdd165e0dcbad77de93b97ce9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230623100648_7a69c06dc99e4793716ada2308efa73157b7276fdd165e0dcbad77de93b97ce9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 3"> </figure>  At Paradise Trekker’s Home in Kagbeni another worker from Kathmandu says he likes working here because it “is a unique experience”. His colleague is from Udaypur and does everything from cooking to ploughing the apple fields with a tractor. “Locals own the majority of land and hotels but they do not work here,” explains Karma Namguyal Gurung, a 28-year-old local who has been running his family-owned hotel for the past four years, and is one of few who have remained behind. (See profile below)&nbsp; "Few Mustang people remain. Most of my friends are overseas, and lease out their hotels to people from other districts,” he adds.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090612_7229ee7ca69667507696c943ff521daf570fd1312b1467a97d7f2e6df3c228e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230623090612_7229ee7ca69667507696c943ff521daf570fd1312b1467a97d7f2e6df3c228e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="750" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> </figure>  Mustang's Crown Prince Jigme Bista is also worried about the brain drain from his kingdom, and says this is the reason he opened his up-market Royal Mustang Resort in Lo Manthang.&nbsp; "Since our young are rapidly leaving Mustang, I wanted to create opportunities here,” explains Bista, who aims to retain them by giving them jobs, equipping them with skills in hotel management, and training them to be baristas and chefs. &nbsp; <h2>Return of a native</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309068_603f8d4d5d089496a1e1bbaf40fff565b22dda8c8cce402e45685e86b31f1ad4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023062309068_603f8d4d5d089496a1e1bbaf40fff565b22dda8c8cce402e45685e86b31f1ad4" data-rendition-name="original" width="5184" height="3456" loading="lazy" alt="Karma Namguyal Gurung"> <figcaption>PHOTO: SHRIJAN PANDEY</figcaption> </figure>  Karma Namguyal Gurung exemplifies the resilient spirit of a young Mustang entrepreneur committed to preserving his family’s legacy and contributing to the development of tourism in his home district.&nbsp; But Gurung is unique because unlike most local youth, he has not migrated overseas. He moved to Kathmandu as a boy to go to school at a time when he had to walk for a week to get to Pokhara. After getting a hotel management degree, he interned in Dubai for eight months and in Malaysia for three months. Gurung got job offers to stay abroad, but decided to return not just to Nepal, but to go back to Mustang. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel “I felt homesick during that whole time abroad,” recalls Gurung, who missed the cool mountain breeze of Mustang while sweating in the tropical heat of Malaysia and the Gulf. &nbsp; Gurung’s family has been running the Four Seasons Hotel in Muktinath Valley for the past 25 years. But they moved to Kathmandu, and it was getting difficult to run the hotel remotely. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623100648_c29d8feb51716a08ae31ef051a5fa5c1ab13fb54034bed9bd9809b9625d84bea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230623100648_c29d8feb51716a08ae31ef051a5fa5c1ab13fb54034bed9bd9809b9625d84bea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> </figure>  So, he came back four years ago and now manages the family hotel, providing food and lodging especially for pilgrims to Muktinath.&nbsp; “The natives don't run things here, they have mostly left,” Gurung says, admitting that he has also thought of going to a bigger place to earn more. What encourages him to stay is feedback from visitors about his hospitality. “It is really encouraging when guests acknowledge our effort,” he says. ",Mustang is no longer a village, as it was during my childhood. It is becoming cosmopolitan. &nbsp;This place will never be the same again.”&nbsp; The pace of change is evident even in Lo Manthang, where Mustang's Crown Prince Jigme Bista runs the high-end Royal Mustang Resort which fuses traditional and modern architecture. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; “We’ve seen tourists leave on the very first day of a seven-day program due to a lack of facilities,” Bista says. “Our goal is to give tourists who come here for our culture, traditions, and location a fascinating experience.” The hotel sees 4,000 international and local visitors every year, and Bista says the hotel can accommodate many more if the restricted area designation for Mustang is lifted.&nbsp; Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang forced to adapt to climate c</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">risis</a>, Ronan Wallace and Yungdrung Tsewang Gurung <h2>Better connected</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023062309068_dfe1037005a750b92601a23297e6b7fe900a88858adcc892a2d4baf4ef3f5873.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2023062309068_dfe1037005a750b92601a23297e6b7fe900a88858adcc892a2d4baf4ef3f5873" data-rendition-name="original" width="1683" height="591" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang map"> </figure>  Once Nepal’s most isolated region, new road connectivity has made Mustang much more accessible. What used to be a 11-day trek from Pokhara is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/11-day-trek-is-now-a-day-s-drive-in-nepal">now an eight hour jeep ride</a>, and this may come down to five hours once the highway along the Kali Gandaki is upgraded. The river slices through the mountains between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri and is regarded as the deepest gorge in the world. Besides the unstable geology, it also gets heavy rainfall. &nbsp;&nbsp; “This is very difficult terrain to build and maintain roads,” explains Lokendra Adhikari of the Annapurna Conservation Area project. “The road from Ghasa to Lo Manthang is smooth and intact because there is less rain, and the terrain is gentler.” Despite the rough road, Mustang is changing rapidly, and accelerating out-migration of locals. But it has also brought people from Pokhara and Kathmandu to set up businesses here.&nbsp; There is a building spree, and fancy new hotels are coming up to cater to an expected tourism boom. The road has made it easier for children from Upper Mustang now to join boarding schools in Pokhara or Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090624_f2997aa8458b1f3e5cdc7900c87ea7d474337b7a90a6bc5c0dfe0cf6d3f23251.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20230623090624_f2997aa8458b1f3e5cdc7900c87ea7d474337b7a90a6bc5c0dfe0cf6d3f23251" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang"> </figure>  Hoteliers in Jomsom say there would have been more tourists if the road condition was better and flights safer and more regular. Two crashes of flights from Pokhara in 2016 and 2022 deterred many trekkers and pilgrims. “The Tara Air crashes led to a sharp drop in foreign tourists, so if the road were better we would have seen a rebound,” says Tripple P Gurung, owner of Redhouse in Kagbeni. He adds that most of his guests prefer to brave the road.&nbsp; The monsoon is the lean tourist season in most of Nepal, but it is peak period here in trans-Himalayan districts like Mustang and Dolpo because the weather is milder and drier during June-September. Mustang is becoming especially popular with Nepali tourists who come here to explore the scenic trails on mountain bikes or motorcycles. Now that there is a motorable road right up to the Chinese border at Korala, many hoteliers say it does not make sense to keep Mustang restricted. The hefty fees and the bureaucratic hassles in Kathmandu to get permits are keeping many potential tourists away.&nbsp; “The policy about the restricted area and fees was made 30 years ago taking into account Mustang’s fragile ecology and culture to keep visitor numbers low, but that is not an issue anymore with better connectivity,” says Gurung.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230623090624_edcc2a5a02ca63bb8681fd2eaa404a924cf8fdfeb3d8fb78878ac59151cac6d8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20230623090624_edcc2a5a02ca63bb8681fd2eaa404a924cf8fdfeb3d8fb78878ac59151cac6d8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang"> </figure>  Getting there Now an eight-hour drive from Kathmandu to Pokhara because of highway widening and traffic. Overland: Pokhara to Jomsom 6 hours Jomsom to Lo Manthang &nbsp;6 hours Flight: Kathmandu-Pokhara (overnight)-Jomsom Upper Mustang beyond Kagbeni is still restricted, and foreign tourists have to pay $500 per person for the first 10 days and an additional $50 each day of their visit to the region. Of the nearly 60,000 foreign tourists so far in Mustang, only 2,000 or so continued to Upper Mustang. The fee was reduced in 2005 when Mustang became more accessible, and the restriction on the number of visitors has also been lifted.&nbsp;

Comings and goings in Mustang

Mustang district has always adapted to socio-cultural and trade influences from the south and north, but this trend has accelerated bringing drastic change to the lives and livelihoods of this region north of the Himalaya.&nbsp; When I first visited <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/mustang-safe-for-trekking-post-quake,2416">Mustang </a>in 1992, we had to walk for a week from Pokhara just to get to Muktinath. Today, this shrine is an 8 hour jeep drive from Pokhara. Nearly all villages in the district are now connected to dirt roads. Horses and mules are still seen, now mainly used to haul goods between villages, or to carry manure to farms.&nbsp; Horse race at this year’s Yartung Festival is a symbolic display of the animal in this rugged and arid region, but it is now more of a tourist attraction displaying a way of life that is on the verge of extinction.&nbsp; In the dining hall of a lodge in Kagbeni, a middle aged woman was threading wool to weave jumpers for her grandchildren. I had stayed in the same lodge 10 years earlier. This time, the woman told me that her children had moved to Kathmandu and overseas, and she has rented the hotel to a businessman from Dhading. Many other lodge-owners here have done the same.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505040_567ff49e881d5587ed0c21e30b66acd43c4c4fe0503ab5cfeba96026a0c301c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023041505040_567ff49e881d5587ed0c21e30b66acd43c4c4fe0503ab5cfeba96026a0c301c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 3"> <figcaption>People from Rukum, Rolpa and Dolpa districts have moved here instead.(Photo: Jagannath Adhikari)</figcaption> </figure>  The pace of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-migration-is-already-happening">outmigration</a> from Mustang has accelerated, as locals move out for better education and jobs. The original Thakali, Loba and Gurung families still own property here, but they hire people from Dolpo, Dhading, Gorkha, Prabat, Maygdi, Rukum and Rolpa to take care of their businesses and farms.&nbsp; In Mustang, highlanders are coming down and lowlanders are moving up. In some cases, down-valley families are simply asked to stay and look after property without paying rent. Some elders still remain, but with the young men and women away, there is a demand for outside caretakers.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mixed-blessings-in-mustang">Mixed blessings in Mustang</a>, Mukesh Pokhrel Many of the shops in Jomsom are run by outsiders who have rented the space from the Mustangi. Most jeep drivers are from outside, even though absentee locals own the vehicles. It is in fact difficult to tell a local from an outsider since the migrants have developed good social connections. On this visit, a lodge-owner in Muktinath said he had hired a young manager from Dailekh to look after his place.&nbsp; This could be the reason why despite depopulation of most mountain districts in Nepal, the 2021 census actually recorded an increase in Mustang. In 2001, Mustang’s population was 14,981, it declined to 13,452 in 2011, and bounced back to 14,596 in 2021.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505040_96e49bbed1f44f698fc2a0a45ac2a7c43a6082ce13bbcc350002153112dcb561.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023041505040_96e49bbed1f44f698fc2a0a45ac2a7c43a6082ce13bbcc350002153112dcb561" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 4"> <figcaption>There used to be 32 households in Chusang village but there are only a handful now.(Photo: Jagannath Adhikari)</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepalis-moving-from-mountains-to-plains">2021 census </a>also showed that 5,907 people (41% of Mustang’s population) were recent migrants, mostly from outside. Another 1,207 Mustang people live overseas -- two-thirds of them in Europe and North America.&nbsp; Along the traditional trekking route from Lete to Muktinath and Lo Manthang, nearly every house has one or two family members working or living in the US, Japan, France, UK, and Australia. Unlike other parts of Nepal, very few are in the Gulf or Malaysia.&nbsp; Most schools in the district have mainly students from migrant families, and the enrollment has shrunk to as low as 4-12 per primary school. This is why the government is trying to merge schools. A few private medium schools in places like Jomsom have children of local families, but most others have sent theirs to Pokhara or Kathmandu. A prominent politician running a hotel here says that the economy could get a boost if people returned and invested in Mustang. But that is not likely to happen, since most moved out at an early age. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230415040456_93d5b98f9016fee28d6ea494fa287281ccbed23e53b4f73f214e8b3e139b7a33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230415040456_93d5b98f9016fee28d6ea494fa287281ccbed23e53b4f73f214e8b3e139b7a33" data-rendition-name="original" width="768" height="1024" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 2"> </figure>  At this pace of in and out migration, a demographic shift in the district’s ethnic composition may force a redefinition of who a Mustangi is. But migration is not a new phenomenon, in fact even the current inhabitants of Mustang once moved in from Jumla and Tibet.&nbsp; Mustang has a potential to become a trading hub for Chinese commodities, with the upgrading of the road to the border at Korala. Shops in places like Lo Manthang sell mainly goods from north of the border, and the customers are mainly Nepali visitors.&nbsp; Trading opportunities have helped generate income and employment. Mustang’s new ethnic heterogeneity is also enhancing social and cultural capital, and entrepreneurship. But there are also questions as to who is actually benefiting from these changes. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-migration-is-already-happening">Climate migration is already happenning</a> Mustangis are well known as a resilient people well able to adapt to changes. Some of them who moved out when salt trade with Tibet declined in the late 1950s, sought other economic opportunities elsewhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023041505044_af7b8f36cdef810b782936589610df1f11bb47f1ffbe724f141ca5c0a7facb7e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2023041505044_af7b8f36cdef810b782936589610df1f11bb47f1ffbe724f141ca5c0a7facb7e" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Mustang 5"> </figure>  That trend continues to the present day. They are moving out in search of prosperity while still holding onto property back home, hoping one day to return when things are right.&nbsp; Jagannath Adhikari is an independent researcher on socio-economic and environmental issues, and occasionally teaches in Nepal and overseas. He has authored several books and research articles on these issues.

Winds of change sweep Mustang

It was 30 years ago this month that investment into ‘Baby Arun’, the 201MW first phase of the run-of-river Arun III project, was brought to a screeching halt when the World Bank officially withdrew its support. This brought about profound and fundamental changes in the way Nepal’s power sector subsequently developed. Nepalis suffered debilitating power outages between 2008-2016 due to shortages attributable to the cancellation. At the same time, the gap left by Baby Arun was filled by private sector investment in ways that were not obvious in 1995. It took 30 years, but in many ways Nepal’s power sector is more healthy today than it has ever been, and likely better than if the project was built as planned. At a projected budget of $1.08 billion, Baby Arun would have cost the equivalent of Nepal’s entire annual government expenditure in 1995. It was to be funded by concessional grants and loans from multilateral and bilateral funders, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank (ADB), KfW, and investment by the government itself. At the time, Nepal’s total electricity generation capacity was only 230MW, and the trajectory of the power sector changed dramatically following the cancellation. In the past 30 years, $5.4 billion has been invested in the power sector led by private investors, and much of it from domestic banks and pension funds (table, right).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="984" height="521" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Nearly 70% of the new megawatts generated were by private independent power producers (IPP) in the past 30 years, while the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) and its subsidiary companies added 30% of new capacity. Almost 80% of total debt financing came from domestic banks and employee retirement funds. International assistance for power generation dropped dramatically over this time, accounting for only about 15% of investment. Before 1995 new power projects used to be entirely dependent on foreign aid. Since 1995, 63% of new generation came from 171 small hydropower projects with an average capacity of 12MW, while 4% was from 21 solar photovoltaic and biomass projects developed by local IPPs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="503" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Over three decades, investment in Nepal’s power supply came primarily from new actors that had never before been involved in this sector. The rate of electrification rose from 10% to close to 100% -- sufficient to meet domestic needs during most of the year, and in 2024 made Nepal a net exporter of power to India for the first time in its history. As practically all the new investment in this period went into run-of-river hydro and solar projects, rather than into hydropower reservoirs with seasonal storage, Nepal continues to rely on imports from India during the dry winter months. Surplus electricity generation for export during the monsoon is slated to grow rapidly as another 200 solar and hydro projects are nearing completion of construction, with over 5,000MW of power capacity. Private Power The cancellation of Baby Arun inadvertently accelerated the entry of the private sector into Nepal’s power generation. The government enacted the Electricity Act in 1992 to attract private IPPs and diversify away from total dependence from international aid, but had been struggling for several years to conclude the first agreement with the 60MW Khimti Project. There remained a large gap between the tariff that the government thought was reasonable versus what was demanded by the Norwegian investor Statkraft, and the private sector arms of the World Bank and ADB that were financing the project. The shock of World Bank withdrawal from Baby Arun put tremendous pressure on the government, then led by the UML as it is now. The Bank’s decision to terminate its involvement was ostensibly, at least partially, taken in response to a letter critiquing the project sent by the UML while it was in the opposition.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347" data-rendition-name="original" width="949" height="446" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>BAD NEWS: Newspaper clippings from the early 90s on tender announcement ahead of loan approval (left) and secrecy surrounding environmental assessment (centre) of Arun III before its eventual cancellation in August 1995.</figcaption> </figure>  The government was forced to soften its position and agree to the investors’ terms following the cancellation of Baby Arun. It directed NEA to sign a power purchase agreement (PPA) with Khimti. It was concluded in January 1996, and this was followed by a second PPA in July 1996 with Panda Energy, the American developer of the 45MW Upper Bhotekosi project. The expensive USD-denominated agreements to buy power from two international private producers, with price escalation clauses tied to the New York Consumer Price Index, sent alarm bells ringing. There was worry that the country was heading towards unaffordable tariff rates for the consumer and potential bankruptcy for NEA as a result of inevitable future weakening of the Nepali Rupee. The government had strong-armed NEA into signing these agreements, and realised that concessionary financing terms that Nepal was used to receiving for public sector projects such as Baby Arun and Kali Gandaki A, that included below-market interest rates and 40 years repayment period with a 10 year grace period before starting repayment, were not the norm for private sector investors. Nepal’s status as a less than attractive destination for foreign investment meant that the country had few options but to accept expensive dollar PPAs from international developers with the high commercial interest rates and short repayment periods imposed by their banks because of high investment risks. In the end, the government ended up having to additionally provide a sovereign guarantee in order to close the deal at the insistence of the lenders – committing it to repayment in case NEA defaulted on paying the IPPs. It is reasonable to assume that the extraordinarily high political cost of agreeing to the PPA terms would have meant that no government would have willingly agreed to them in 1995 had it not suffered the trauma of the loss of concessionary-financed public sector projects as large as the Baby Arun. It has taken NEA 25 years to consider offering dollar-denominated PPAs again: to cover the foreign exchange portion of the investment in the 216MW Upper Trisuli-1 and 120MW Rasuwa-Bhotekosi Hydropower projects. It seemed unlikely at the time, but it turned out that the dire situation Nepal found itself in 1995 planted the seed to mobilise investment for affordable power from within the country. Double Whammy After the dual shock of first losing investment in Baby Arun and having to sign expensive power purchase agreements with international IPPs, the first proposal for an alternative strategy to mitigate the risk of foreign currency investment into hydropower projects came from a group of engineers within the Arun III team at NEA. Led by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4900">Deputy Director Damber Bahadur Nepali,</a> engineers convinced the leadership that NEA needed to invest in a subsidiary company to build a series of locally-designed and domestically-financed projects that would have lower cost with rupee-denominated PPAs. They registered the Chilime Hydropower Company Limited (CHCL) in October 1995 with 51% shares from NEA, 25% from its employees, and 24% available for the general public, 10% of which was prioritised for local residents at the project site. The 22.1MW project is in Rasuwa on a tributary of the Trisuli, and mobilised debt financing from the Employee Provident Fund, which manages retirement savings for employees of the government, public enterprises, and private sector institutions. CHCL’s experience showed that NEA employees themselves believed that individual hydropower projects with operational independence from NEA could be developed profitably in Nepal by its own engineers -- and they were willing to put their own money on the line. Chilime also demonstrated that there was money in the country, particularly with retirement funds, looking for opportunities for long-term investments. Following completion of Chilime in 2003, CHCL led the formation of three other NEA subsidiary companies that completed construction in 2023 and 2024, producing 168.3MW using fully rupee-tied investment. NEA’s largest subsidiary, the Upper Tamakosi Hydropower Limited, completed construction of its 456MW plant in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1571" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>DAMNED: The $700 million 456MW Upper Tamakosi built entirely with domestic funds before it was destroyed by the September floods last year. </figcaption> </figure>  There were some delays and cost overruns on this run-of-river project, the largest in the country with a final cost of over $700 million -- all of it sourced domestically. The five subsidiary companies launched by NEA have produced almost two times as much new power as NEA has over the past 30 years. Seven other NEA subsidiaries are currently constructing projects to add another 474MW to the national grid. But even more important than NEA subsidiaries have been local IPPs: Nepali companies which have over the past three decades enthusiastically entered the hydropower sector. From a regulatory perspective, the credit for mobilising domestic private investment to engage in power generation goes to Minister of Water Resources Shailaja Acharya, who in 1998 offered a flat feed-in-tariff of Rs4/kWh for hydropower projects under 10MW. This upfront offer removed a major barrier that early developers had faced of having to spend money to carry out a detailed feasibility study before they could even start tariff negotiations with NEA. She had laid the foundation stone of the Chilime project, and proved to be the champion of opening up the sector for domestic IPPs. The guarantee of a PPA with a fixed tariff, irrespective of project specifications, gave small power developers the confidence to apply for survey licenses and invest in feasibility studies so they could directly approach commercial banks and make a case for their project producing required revenue to repay loans. Domestic IPPs started adding power to the national grid in 2002. Their contribution was initially modest, and first projects were small and commercial lenders who took time to be confident about providing debt financing to a sector which had previously not been considered suitable for private sector investment. While the first 10 years were slow, with less than 10MW being added to the grid each year, this increased twenty fold over the following ten years, resulting in the equivalent of a Baby Arun being added by Nepali IPPs to the grid each year. A total of 84 IPPs added 232MW, 328 MW, 454MW, and 400MW of new generation to the grid in 2021-2024 (graph). There was explosive, exponential growth as domestic developers have surged ahead to account for 76% of the new megawatts added to the grid since 2020, compared to 24% by NEA and its subsidiary companies. The megawatts that IPPs are adding have followed the classic ‘hockey stick curve’ with the ‘breakout point’, signaling the rapid growth phase in 2020. Private producers are expected to accelerate new generation in the coming years with 300 solar and hydropower projects adding 11,000MW. Another 166 hydropower and 96 solar projects are currently in the survey stage, and are in line to add another 11,000MW to the construction pipeline. One major challenge is finding financing required for the projects. Domestic investment will no longer be sufficient to finance this ambitious pipeline of renewable energy projects. Project developers as well as NEA and the Electricity Regulatory Commission will have to leverage their substantial experience accumulated through the construction of over 200 projects to attract regional and international investment and hedge the risks of dollar-denominated PPAs. Following the cancellation of Baby Arun, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Nepal developed a highly distributed power sector</a>. The national electricity grid is currently supplied with power from a remarkably decentralised array of hundreds of hydropower and solar photovoltaic projects spread across 43 districts and all seven provinces.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1228" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  This presents a sharp contrast to the pathway of a few large public sector hydropower projects with a sprinkling of private sector projects that was envisioned as part of NEA’s investment planning when Baby Arun was being considered the front runner for investment. The strategy then was to allow public sector investment in a few large hydropower projects with thermal plants to fill the gap. Knowing what we know now about acceleration of climate change impacts and increased extreme weather events, following this path would have made Nepal’s power sector highly vulnerable. Decentralised generation greatly improves the resilience of Nepal’s power supply as damage to power plants in one part of the country need not affect other areas that have their own generation. Following the investment plan where over two thirds of the country’s power supply would have come from power plants on the Arun River, would have greatly imperiled Nepal’s energy security. All rivers in Nepal are susceptible to flooding from cloudbursts made more frequent by climate change. The Arun River which is fed by glaciers in Tibet is also at risk to glacial lake outburst floods. Bikash Pandey is Director of Clean Energy and Circular Economy at Winrock International. People Power is his regular column in Nepali Times on global energy issues relevant to Nepal. <h2>Decentralised and Diversified</h2> In the 30 years since the cancellation of ‘Baby Arun’: Hydropower projects constructed cover capacities ranging from less than 1MW to 456MW and developed by IPPs from across the country with strong local involvement in purchasing equity shares. Renewable energy sources contributed to the generation mix through solar IPPs that further contribute to climate resilience, and cover shortfalls during low rainfall. The government is committed to solar contributing 10% of the power on the grid. Increasing solar beyond this target and providing incentives to project developers to invest in utility-scale battery storage would further improve resilience. BIG ARUN: The 900MW Arun III project under construction since 2018 at Num in Sankhuwasabha (pictured, below) is a separate initiative by a different project developer using a different financing modality. The ‘Baby Arun’ version of Arun III was cancelled in 1995.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> </figure>

30 years after Baby Arun

It cannot be a coincidence that after pushing bills to constrict freedom of expression and allow greater <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-or-espionage">surveillance of citizens</a>, Nepal’s government is now tightening controls on civil society.
In a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/command-and-control">series of recent moves</a> journalists have been sued for contempt of court, imprisoned for YouTube videos, or ordered by courts to desist from investigating corrupt officials.
An amendment to the Print and Publications Act that would hand the power to shut online media to the Chief District Officer (CDO). Another draft Bill would allow a political appointee to head a new Media Council with the power to revoke a journalist’s license. The draft counter-intelligence Bill would let random officials to arbitrarily tap phones, read emails and trail citizens.
Now comes yet another draft Bill that would replace the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10675">Social Welfare Council (SWC)</a> with direct government control over registration, regulation, and management of non-governmental organisations, nonprofits and charities. There are more than 54,000 NGOs, 200 international NGOs registered with the SWC.
The draft makes civil society organisations needlessly jump through hoops to carry out work that complements the government in the social sector. Critics say the Bill was drafted without any consultation with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-s-rights-groups-must-step-up-4r4z6ck4">civic groups</a>.
“This Bill’s content is questionable whether it intends to allow for civil society organisations in Nepal a free space to operate,” concludes Dr SP Kalaunee, Country Representative of BlinkNow Foundation and Chair of the Association of International NGOs in Nepal (AIN). “The draft seems oriented towards controling rather than facilitating the work of civil society organisations.”
The Bill will be open for feedback from the public, and integrates the National Directives Act (1961), Association Registration Act (1977), and the Social Welfare Act (1992) and proposes dissolving the SWC and replacing it with a new Social Welfare Department under the Ministry of Women, Children and Senior Citizens.
Non-government groups will now be required to get approval from the Registrar Office, the CDO or the provincial government depending on their area of operation. Those working across provinces will have to get permission from the federal government. &nbsp;
The government says the Bill is intended to vet organisations to see if they are engaged in espionage, violate national security, assist a foreign state, commit treason, cause strife between federal units, or incite communal violence.&nbsp;
CSOs working in Nepal have long called for legislation to better facilitate their work, minimise administrative and bureaucratic red tape which have posed operational challenges. But they are opposed to such drastic control.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-crow-and-the-scarecrow">The crow and the scarecrow</a>, Om Astha Rai
The NGO Federation of Nepal also issued a statement this week calling the Bill ‘retrograde and cumbersome’. It added: ‘Most of its provisions are intended to further constrain and control civil society organisations rather than facilitate and strengthen them, and reduce the role of citizen participation … it is an attack on our civil liberties, inclusivity, and transparency, and curtails our <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5156">democratic values and constitutional rights</a>.’ &nbsp;
<a href="about:blank">Nepal’s graduation</a> from least-developed country status next year may mean less aid for Nepal, and higher interest rates on loans from multilateral creditors. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/how-usaid-cut-affects-nepal">closure of USAID </a>and reduction in bilateral grants means the work of INGOs will be even more vital – especially to meet its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/target-2030-for-maternal-and-newborn-health">SDG targets by 2030</a>.&nbsp;
“We are competing with other countries at a time when the global aid environment is shrinking, so the support we receive is directly dependent on a conducive environment for INGOs to operate and function,” says Kalaunee. “INGOs follow regulations of the nations they operate in, they will not protest or wait around for governments to change their minds or policies.”
Social safety net
Since 1977, the work of non-governmental actors in Nepal has been regulated by the Social Service National Coordination Council (SSNCC) chaired by Queen Aishwarya.
After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/one-moment-30-years-ago-today">1990 People’s Movement</a>, King Birendra set up the Social Welfare Council (SWC) as an autonomous body in 1992 through the Social Welfare Act. But since then the SWC has been dogged by controversy and allegations of corruption and extortion.
In 2018, the Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA) filed a Rs315 million corruption case against 14 individuals, including the Minister of Women, Children and Social Welfare and SWC chair Badri Prasad Neupane and other officials for violating public procurement laws to rent out three hectares of its property around Bhrikuti Mandap.
Civil society groups have for years called for reforms in the SWC, and a report was drawn up to restructure it before this Bill proposed its dissolution. INGOs in particular will now have to go through the Social Welfare Department and multiple ministries for permissions.
A particularly objectionable provision in the draft stipulates that NGOs must have a Board of Director made up almost entirely of secretaries of various ministries. The NGO Federation has urged the government to take a civil society-friendly approach and not tangle its work in red tape and control. It says the government has no option but to revise the bill in its current form.
“Civil society organisations need an open space to operate, and an autonomous body to oversee them,” says Kalaunee. “Non-government organisations support in the areas prioritised by the government but by definition they cannot be a part of government.”

Big, beautiful Bills

An average Nepali could live 3.3 years longer if air pollution is reduced to meet the World Health Organization (WHO) guideline, according the annual <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/">Air Quality Life Index</a> 2025 published this week. The annual average concentration of tiny suspended particles in the air (PM2.5) in Nepal in 2023 was 38.3 μg/m3, nearly eight times the WHO standard, and 10% higher than 2022. Thirty years ago, air pollution in Nepal was half the current levels. WHO says particulate concentration above 5μg/m3 &nbsp;is<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous"> hazardous to health</a>.&nbsp; The most <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/why-is-the-air-in-bhaktapur-so-bad">polluted parts of Nepal</a> are along the Indian border in Rutahat, Mahottari, Dhanusha, Parsa and Bara districts in Madhes Povince where average life expectancy is reduced by as much as 5.3 years.&nbsp; People in Sarlahi, Siraha, Saptari, Morang, Sunsari, Rupandehi and Jhapa are also dying at least 4 years earlier. The Air Quality Index 2025 report which is published annually by the Energy Policy Institute at the University of Chicago, says the figure is relatively lower for Kathmandu and Lalitpur at 2.6 and 2.4 years. After the Madhes, Kosi and Lumbini Provinces are the most polluted — especially in towns along industrial corridors and near the border. Karnali Province was by far the cleanest, followed by Sudurpaschim. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-pollution">Epicentre of pollution</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250828060856_136770cc84e114e8993af82e6a682c45d9458060e4ecf45f18e9f210673e1279.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250828060856_136770cc84e114e8993af82e6a682c45d9458060e4ecf45f18e9f210673e1279" data-rendition-name="original" width="753" height="584" loading="lazy" alt="AQLI map"> <figcaption>Potential gain in life expectancy from permanently reducing PM2.5 from 2023 concentration to the WHO guideline.</figcaption> </figure>  Air pollution is now the leading external<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/cleaner-air-longer-lives-0z0okfeu"> threat to life expectancy in Nepal</a>, exceeding both tobacco and diet-related risks, which reduced average lifespans of Nepalis by 1.9 years and 1.3 years respectively. The Air Quality Management Action Plan for Kathmandu Valley introduced in 2017 had identified vehicular emissions, brick kilns, and construction as the most polluting. It adopted measures to strengthen air quality monitoring, develop emissions inventory, and conduct impact assessments. Other major sources of emissions in Nepal include <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-smoke-without-fire-p7vb9dcj">forest fires</a>, crop residue and garbage burning as well as transboundary pollution from India and Pakistan. The report says India is the world’s most polluted country with the particulate concentration in 2023 at 41 μg/m3, an average resident in India could live 3.5 years longer if pollution levels were brought down to meet the WHO guideline. Residents of New Delhi on average would live 8.2 years longer if they breathed clean air. South Asia has some of the world’s most polluted cities. On some winter days, Kathmandu records the worst air quality in the world. In 2023, PM2.5 concentrations in South Asia declined by 9.6% between 2021 and 2022 due to lockdowns during the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic. ‘After a dip in 2022, particulate pollution in South Asia increased by 2.8% in 2023 — though it remained 7% lower than in 2021,’ <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/report/annual-update-2025">states the report</a>. ‘In the region’s most polluted countries, particulate pollution’s impact on life expectancy is nearly twice that of childhood, and maternal malnutrition and more than five times that of unsafe water, sanitation and handwashing.’ Elsewhere, unprecedented wildfires caused particulate concentrations to rise to levels not seen since 2011 in the United States and since 1998 in Canada. China also registered a decline in air quality, an increase of 2.8% in particulate pollution in 2023 relative to 2022, the first in a decade since the start of its ‘War on Pollution’ in 2014.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250828060856_94860b929d0fb161220ad72ecb76fcd29ba8e306bd6b844485a4171dadb6bb47.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250828060856_94860b929d0fb161220ad72ecb76fcd29ba8e306bd6b844485a4171dadb6bb47" data-rendition-name="original" width="754" height="501" loading="lazy" alt="AQLI line graph"> <figcaption>Annual average PM2.5 concentration in Nepal from 1998-2023.</figcaption> </figure>  Globally, the PM2.5 concentration in 2023 was 1.5% higher than in 2022, and nearly 5 times the WHO guideline. If global particulate pollution were permanently reduced to meet this guideline, an average person around the world would gain 1.9 years of life, adding 15.1 billion total life years to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-future-is-older">global population</a>, the report adds. ‘Particulate pollution remained the greatest external threat to human life expectancy in 2023, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/air-pollution-is-more-dangerous-than-smoking">its impact comparable to smoking</a> and surpassing other major health risks,’ the report says. ‘Its toll on life expectancy is more than 4 times that of alcohol use, 5 times that of transport injuries or unsafe water, sanitation, and handwashing, and more than 6 times that of HIV/AIDS.’ The report also highlights the need for open data, and says that accessible air quality information has translated into reduced particulate concentrations and gains in life expectancy in the United States, China, and Poland. Besides data, the report says, investment in monitoring and other air quality management infrastructure must be matched by political will, ambitious policies, capacity building, and sustained enforcement.

Warning: breathing is hazardous to health

This is the 72nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father ran a store and that is where I spent all my time till Grade 6. Doing my homework. Serving customers. I then moved to my maternal grandparents’ house because I used to get along with my cousin who was a year older than me. We did everything together, and were best friends. We took turns studying: I was a night owl, and he was an early riser. Before I went to bed after studying all night, I woke him up. My mother was 44 when I was born, the same year my eldest brother got married. My sister-in-law becoming a part of our family was how my mother referenced my age. I liked making money, and was always a hustler. In Grade 7, I learnt to handle a tractor and helped my brother-in-law to plough, earning Rs10 a day. As I got better, he paid me more. By Grade 9, I was already making Rs500 per day, but had to slow down to prepare for my exams. From an early age I knew I did not want a 9-5 job. There just wasn’t enough money in it. I wanted to get into business, and compared my brother who worked in the post office and what businessmen made. It did not help that my brother was honest, and never took bribes. A friend and I made money selling cheap Chinese phones at a premium to our friends. We blasted music on the phones and pretended that we were giving them a discount. After SLC, I started teaching math and other subjects. I was soon a shareholder in the same school and in the evening I was involved in our family’s floriculture business, growing amaranth and marigold for garlands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="955" height="1314" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  It was then that a friend suggested we learn the Korean language. We could be earning significantly higher in Korea for similar efforts. I had no plans to go abroad but he convinced me. I did not know anything about Korea, and was scolded at the language institute when I asked someone to point Korea on the map.&nbsp; It was only there that I learnt you had to pass an exam for the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS), and pay for language classes. After a week, I decided it was not for me and dropped out. But my friend convinced me to give it one more try. I did not prepare much for the exam, and it was no surprise that I failed. But it was just by one mark, and people would pity me for failing “just by one mark”. It was a brand of failure. It hurt my ego. I had to turn things around by taking the exams seriously, and locked myself up to study hard.&nbsp; Even when we had visitors, my wife told them I was not home. If I was not in my room learning Korean, I would be with a group of ten of us test-takers comparing notes and practicing late into the night. The exam was difficult, but this time I passed, the only one in my group who did.&nbsp; As someone who never liked the idea of doing a job, I still had my doubts about going to Korea. It did not help that one of my acquaintances had returned a month after he had left, and he discouraged me from migrating given that I was already making good money in Nepal.&nbsp; But my wife suggested that I give it a shot since I had worked so hard for it. And if it really turned out not to be my cup of tea, I could always return. What did I have to lose, I thought, at least I would get to visit Korea. My job there was in an electrical company that made circuit boards. I worked all day, earned good money. In the evenings, I kept myself busy with my real estate business back in Nepal. I had learnt the tricks of the trade from fellow real estate agents back home, but at the time did not have the capital to invest.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  In Korea, it helped that I had salary records that allowed me to get loans from financial institutions both in Korea and in Nepal. Ultimately, I started earning more from my real estate deals in Nepal than from my job in Korea. This was all thanks to my ability to take loans because of the EPS scheme. My wife has been managing the flower business while I was away. My finances grew stronger over the eight years I was in Korea. I paid off the loans that I had borrowed to buy land. But real estate did not satisfy me entirely. I wondered: what is my brand? What will I be known for? What is my contribution to society? Real estate is for wealth, but that is about it. I needed to sell one piece of land and use the revenue to start a venture. I took classes in business, and returned to Nepal six months ago and got back to my family’s ancestral roots in floriculture. In Nepal too, I am continuing the entrepreneurship training I had started in Korea with the Bridge International. Such exposure helps us reflect on our business such as our branding, vision, and proactive aspects like the importance of strong recordkeeping.&nbsp; I am now working to upgrade and expand my floriculture business. With a friend who is still in Korea I am building a cooling room to increase the shelf-life of flowers and other produce and set up a market in my village where others can sell their produce. Floriculture is our primary business, but it is seasonal and earns good money only during festivals like Tihar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  So, I grow tomatoes to ensure year-round earnings. I also am engaged in other businesses like real estate and online shopping. I work round the clock in Nepal — a strong work ethic is something I picked up in Korea.&nbsp; My Korean bosses would work alongside us, that motivated us. I work just as hard in Nepal as I did in Korea. People here often ask me why I am pushing myself so hard. But making garlands comes easy to me, it is work my forebears were involved in. My childhood memories are about plucking flowers with my sister. I have a comparative advantage in this work. It comes naturally to me, it is easy and I enjoy it. And sometimes, if there are too many garlands to make, I can multitask while holding meetings. My fingers just fly. I am good at this job, but my wife is even better and faster.&nbsp; When there is too much load, we can also outsource the work. To be known as the flower guy would be great personal branding. The मखमली guy. Or the सयपत्री guy. I decided to come home for just this with a one-way ticket. “अब पासा: जाँदैन ल्हासा!” &nbsp;

mustang