On the morning of 25 April 2015, as shocked residents of Kathmandu were sifting through the rubble of collapsed homes and temples, there was thunder in the air. Many thought it was another earthquake. A formation of six Indian Air Force MI17 helicopters were flying low over the Lalitpur to land at the airport. Soon after, the Chinese Air Force dispatched its own MI17s, flying over the Himalaya. In the week that followed, the US Marines flew in V-22 Ospreys from Okinawa with mid-air refueling along the way. Then C-17s landed in Kathmandu with UH-1L helicopters in their bellies. Singapore, Israel, Japan, Thailand sent military aircraft with relief and also evacuated their nationals. The Nepal Army only had three small helicopters at the time. So, the most urgent need after 25 April was air support to lift injured people out of remote areas, fly in relief supplies, and conduct aerial surveys of the most affected regions.&nbsp; “The international response was commendable. It was immediate and overwhelming,” recalls &nbsp;Sagar Shrestha of the Nepal Red Cross Society. Indeed, it may have been too overwhelming: the airport soon ran out of apron space as heavy jets started coming in one after another.&nbsp; Despite the intensity of the shaking, there was no damage to the runway and terminal building and the airport was immediately operational. This meant that within 16 hours of the earthquake, a Turkish Red Cross emergency response team had already landed in Kathmandu. The Nepal Army set up a command and control centre at its hangar at the Airport to coordinate relief and conduct medevacs from affected areas. Army personnel accompanied the helicopters to navigate in high terrain. But in the immediate aftermath, it was local communities that sprang into action to dig survivors out of the rubble. Since most of the collapsed buildings in Kathmandu were not concrete high rises, it did not need specialised equipment.&nbsp; Before long, the Nepal Army, Armed Police Force (APF) and the Nepal Police came together in the search efforts, carrying out most of the rescues, pulling babies out alive after 22 hours. “The APF was responsible for search and rescue and the army had the job of transporting wounded people,” recalls Govinda Raj Pokhrel, vice-chair of the Nepal Planning Commission at the time.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250412150420_444da7500f04cad6cb37e728d5dbc09d358e0a08e35ede82b6900dfe416cc41c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250412150420_444da7500f04cad6cb37e728d5dbc09d358e0a08e35ede82b6900dfe416cc41c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It better be better next time NT"> <figcaption>A Turkish seach and rescue team arrived the very next day after the earthquake because Kathmandu airport was not damaged. Photo: WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  The government declared a state of emergency and requested international help within 3–4 hours of the earthquake, and relief flights started arriving immediately. In parts of Kathmandu where concrete structures had collapsed like Gonga Bu, their carbon dioxide life detectors and listening equipment helped locate buried survivors.&nbsp; But it was old fashioned pick and shovel and sniffer dogs that sufficed in most collapsed structures in Bungamati, Bhaktapur, Sankhu and other badly-affected towns. Local first responders and the APF and Army were responsible for most of the rescues. Lack of information to international relief agencies meant that most arrived with equipment that was not really needed. There was also duplication with foreign search and rescue teams stepping on each other’s toes in ruined neighbourhoods. “The government launched coordinated rescue efforts, assigning specific responsibilities to each ministry. For instance, the Ministry of Forests was tasked with managing helicopters arriving from foreign countries to ensure smooth logistics,” adds Pokhrel.&nbsp; Sushil Koirala who was the prime minister at the time, coordinated with the ministers and assigned them responsibilities. The government was slow to coordinate international assistance, and when it finally took charge, it insisted aid go through a ‘one-door policy’ to the Prime Minister’s Relief Fund.&nbsp; This was heavily criticised on social media by Nepalis and foreigners alike, and actually dissuaded many wishing to help to either withdraw or delay providing monetary and in-kind support. The other government decision that was ridiculed was an over-enthusiastic Customs Department that wanted to tax relief material. Although some of the clothing, food and home repair supplies were low quality or inappropriate, obstructing help during an emergency was not a good idea.&nbsp; “There were issues at the airport as large numbers of foreign aircraft were flying in. And the one-door policy for donations to be through the prime minister’s fund became a problem,” admits Pokhrel, adding, “the government was in full control though, which is required during such large-scale disasters.” Pokhrel helped organise an international pledging conference within two months after the earthquake. Even while aftershocks rocked Kathmandu, international donors from 34 countries responded generously with promises of $4.4 billion. However, some of that money was calculated in the help already sent, and much of the pledges never materialised.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250412150420_9d9cde1aad5ed3233702719394f1ca01c99d7c6e4dd8fb12d4bed97bb14b7183.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250412150420_9d9cde1aad5ed3233702719394f1ca01c99d7c6e4dd8fb12d4bed97bb14b7183" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="It better be better next time NT"> <figcaption>Most of the rescue of survivors was carried out by Nepal Army and APF. Photo: NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;“Some foreign assistance did come in, but there was no clarity to mobilise and coordinate the relief, which should have come from the government,” says Sagar Shrestha of the Red Cross. The earthquake struck just as Nepal was preparing to promulgate a new Constitution with controversy about its provisions. Unhappy with it, India blockaded border checkpoints for six months, relief supplies was stuck, and there were shortages of food, fuel and medicines. “Nepal was in political transition, so some lack of coordination was understandable, but given the circumstances we did as much as we could,” says Pokhrel of the post-disaster period. Nepal also could not say no to international offers to rebuild monuments which it could have done itself. Large flags of American, Chinese and other countries were painted at reconstruction sites of destroyed monuments.&nbsp; Help comes with strings attached, and it was obvious some countries were deriving propaganda value from it. Because of Nepal’s strategic location, the presence of so many aircraft from India, China and US gave the impression that this was more of a military exercise — especially near sensitive northern border regions. Ten years later, there are lessons to be learnt that will be useful when the next disaster strikes, as it surely will in future. Foreign assistance was robust and rapid, but coordination struggled with logistical, political, and capacity constraints. There was also a glaring need to upgrade urban search and rescue capacity of the security forces — especially for collapsed multi-storey concrete structures because next time we may not be so lucky. &nbsp;Pneumatic drills, rotary rescue saws, concrete cutters, chipping hammers, hydraulic shoring, and life detectors like thermal, CO2 and snake-eyes have to be prepositioned in various parts of the country. Nepal Army also needs more heavy helicopters and station them in bases in Surkhet, Pokhara and Dharan for rapid deployment. The rescue of people from a fire on a high-rise in Itahari earlier this month needed a helicopter to fly all the way from Kathmandu, and that may have been too late if the fire was more serious. Raging forest fires in the past two weeks all over Nepal has also exposed a woeful lack of aerial firefighting capacity, a gap which the Nepal Army could fill with water dropping equipment. This is important because the next earthquake could also be followed by uncontrolled urban fires. Says Sagar Shrestha of Nepal Red Cross Society: “The biggest lesson is that there needs to be better communication about what is needed after a disaster and coordination between Nepal’s agencies and the internationals to make relief flow smooth.”&nbsp;

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It better be better next time

Nearly 750,000 Nepalis went abroad for employment in the past year, and more than 100,000 left on student visas. Most of them were young Nepali men and women, and the number has been increasing every year. As with other sections of society, Nepal’s security agencies also face a recruitment crisis. Nepal Police opened recruitment for 64 inspectors in September, and received 2,239 applications, compared to 2,718 candidates last year. Police also invited candidates for 256 assistant sub-inspectors this year for which it received 17,756 applications – down from 19,932 last year. It is the same story in the Nepal Army, the number of applicants for the post of Officer Cadet (Second Lieutenant) went down from 6,144 for 400 open seats in 2019 to 4,390 in 2020. Meanwhile, applicants in the paramilitary Armed Police Force went down from 857 applications for 75 posts in 2021 to 536 applicants for 99 posts last year. While the number of applicants appears higher than the demand, the data shows a significant decrease in applications for vacancies in Nepal’s law enforcement agencies. Security personnel are recruited on the basis of rank and age in Nepal, and the age cutoff for entry into Nepal’s security agencies is typically 25 years. Sociologist and migration expert Ganesh Gurung says that the demographic of young, physically fit Nepalis emigrating abroad in search of better opportunities has impacted recruitment into law enforcement and the military here at home. “The returns from working in Nepal’s police and army are minimal, whereas overseas job opportunities are more attractive,” Gurung says. “The work may be physically demanding abroad, but the pay is a lot higher.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241116041148_a7e477e0ee2f56acf16c2559fdb24d8f0377f7bc1f9e56138bc40108fc4fa33f" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="534" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Police"><figcaption>Nepal Police</figcaption></figure>  Nepal Police spokesperson DIG Dan Bahadur Karki agrees that the physical and mental demands of a law enforcement job is incomparable to the income that security personnel earn. “A young Nepali who works in Dubai earns enough to build a home in the village within four years, while a Nepali with the same qualifications and physical ability in a security agency here barely makes enough to survive,” says Karki. “Obviously the youth prefer foreign employment.” Security agencies are now worried about the quality of inducted manpower. “There is a difference in work ethic between an applicant chosen from a competitive pool of 50 candidates versus one chosen from a pool of three candidates,” explains Gurung. “Unmotivated employees hamper the overall performance of the state apparatus.” Nepal Army spokesperson Brigadier General Gaurab Kumar KC says recruitment has not been hampered by outmigration: “We have still been getting more than three times the applicants than there are open posts, so we are not yet worried.” Even so, the passing rates of aspirants have gone down for security forces after the Public Service Commission began examinations for military recruitment in 2015. In fact, the Nepal Army complained about the Commission’s involvement in recruitment. Still, the number of vacant military posts tends to exceed the number of passing candidates. Nepal Army’s KC says that the military will not compromise on intake criteria even if there are fewer passing applicants. “Unqualified persons will not be admitted even if there are less-than-required passing candidates. We will re-advertise if that is the case.” But Nepal’s security forces now also have to worry about retention of existing personnel. About 900 Nepal Army, 600 Nepal Police, and 300 Armed police personnel resign every year before the completion of their tenure.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241116041148_b8cd62f70eea3aac7d3d3778615a5b70b1e20550c9bd76321f051f9c766fd2a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="378" loading="lazy" alt="Armed police forces"><figcaption>Armed Police Force</figcaption></figure>  In 2020, Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa recalled almost 1,000 police personnel who had been deployed for the security of VIPs after long-standing criticism that security forces were being misused to cater to political and bureaucratic leadership. However, security personnel have continued to be assigned to high-ranking officials as glorified housekeepers. In December 2022, Rabi Lamichhane’s Home Ministry had instructed its offices to recall unauthorised security personnel assigned to high-ranking officials, following which 500 officers from Nepal Police and Armed Police Force were withdrawn from their details. But the Nepal Army does not have to follow such rules, and the practice of army personnel serving high-ranking active-duty and retired military personnel remains. Conditions here are dire enough that many active duty officers in Nepal’s military and police forces have chosen to leave their jobs to serve in the Russian Army to fight in the Ukraine war. The hierarchical culture and chain of command of politics, bureaucracy, law enforcement and military has also meant that abuse and mistreatment of subordinates is rife in Nepal’s security forces. “Feudalism is alive and well within our security institutions,” says Gurung. “When soldiers and security forces who swore to protect and serve the nation are made to be at the beck and call of politicians and bureaucrats, it is easy to understand why they are disillusioned with their jobs and why they choose to quit and find jobs abroad.”

Job insecurity in security forces

Nepal’s success in doubling its forest cover in 30 years has been possible for two reasons: community management of woodlands, and the protection of the country’s national parks by the Nepal Army.
But questions are now being raised about why national parks need to be guarded with guns when protection by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-at-forefront-of-saving-tigers">local communities</a> have been so successful.
“Our internal evaluation has shown that it is due to the presence of the military that endangered species have been successfully protected,” says Megh Nath Kafle of the Ministry of Forest’s Department of Biodiversity and Environment. “Without the army, conservation would have been much more difficult.”
However, some activists say giving all the credit for Nepal’s successes in conservation solely to the military would be a disservice to the scores of local communities that have been even more successful in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepal-s-tigers">protecting wildlife habitats</a>.
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-protected-areas-from-infrastructure">Protecting protected areas from infrastructure</a>, Sonia Awale
“People living at the edge of national parks have played the most important role in nature conservation,” says Bharati Pathak of the Federation of Community Forest User Groups.
“By praising only the army, we ignore the contribution of local communities. The Annapurna Conservation Area is an example of successful conservation even without a military presence,” she adds.
The Nepal Army has also been accused of harassing local communities for entering buffer zone forests to collect wild edibles, or grazing livestock even though those areas outside the parks are not within the army’s jurisdiction.
Conservationists, however, say that the military's presence is critical in parks along the border with India to deter poachers. Killing tigers and rhinos for their pelts, bones and horns nearly decimated India’s wildlife in the 1980s and 1990s. Poaching increased in Nepal during the Maoist conflict when the army was redeployed elsewhere.
The Royal Nepal Army’s involvement in guarding national parks started in 1975 after Chitwan National Park was established, mainly to protect the seriously depleted numbers of rhinos and tigers.
Today, more than 8,000 soldiers are stationed in Nepal’s various nature reserves, with battalions in Chitwan, Bardia, Shuklaphanta, Banke, Parsa, Shivapuri and Langtang, while there are company-strength bases guarding Khaptad, Sagarmatha, Bara, Shey Phoksundo, Makalu Barun, Kosi Tappu and Dhorpatan reserves. Conservation areas like Annapurna, Manaslu, Kanchenjunga and Gauri Shankar do not have an army presence.
The main duty of the soldiers is to control <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-conservation-nepal-is-not-out-of-the-woods-yet">encroachment and poaching</a> with regular patrols as well as to help with wildlife census and wildlife translocation activities.
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/wildlife-people-coexistence-in-nepal-national-park">Wildlife-people coexistence in Nepal national park</a>, Kunda Dixit
“Problems arise when villagers enter the national park from the buffer zones, and our patrols have to take action,” explains Brigadier General Krishna Prasad Bhandari. “Our units constantly work with the national park authorities to spread awareness about park rules.”
Even so, for many activists and locals it is not clear why nature needs to be protected with guns when local communities everywhere in Nepal have a proven track record in effective nature conservation.&nbsp;
“It would be much more effective if the army worked more closely with local communities because without their cooperation, genuine conservation is not possible,” says Ramprit Yadav, a pioneer naturalist who was involved in the establishment of Chitwan National Park.
Soldiers have been accused of terrorising local villagers, especially those from Indigenous communities like Tharu, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/chitwan-s-bote-people-in-a-changing-world">Bote</a>, Chepang and Majhi.
“Conservation does not come out of the barrel of a gun, you have to involve local communities, especially Indigenous peoples who have traditionally managed their forest habitats,” says Naya Sharma Poudel of Forest Action Nepal.
Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">forest cover</a> has increased from 26% in 1992 to 45% today, largely due to the role of the community forestry program. Nearly 24% of the country's area is now protected nature reserves, and the army is deployed in 15 of them.&nbsp;
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepal-s-tigers">Villagers step up to protect Nepal’s tigers</a>, Teri D. Allendorf

Does Nepal need the army to guard parks?

In The Survey of the Nepali People conducted by Kathmandu University and Interdisciplinary Analysts last year, 91% of respondents said the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-army-inc">Nepal Army</a> was the institution they trusted the most.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/quid-pro-quo-quagmire">Politicians</a> were at the bottom of the heap, and the sample showed great distrust towards social media content as well. We can understand politicians being unpopular, but why is the military held in such high esteem? &nbsp;
Nepal’s army has not been involved in any external conflict since the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-start-of-the-anglo-gorkha-war">Anglo-Nepal War</a> that ended in 1816, although Nepali nationals fight and die in foreign wars to this day. The last time the Army fired guns in anger was during its involvement in the Maoist conflict 2001-2006.
For most of its 260 year history, the Nepal Army has shown <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7270#.ZB0ZZC8w1KM">loyalty</a> to royalty. Being the army of the founding king, that is understandable. During the Rana period, the Army was under direct command of hereditary prime ministers, but reverted its loyalty to the Shahs after King Mahendra employed the military to stage a coup against a nascent democracy in 1960. &nbsp;
Deposed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/last-days-with-bp-koirala">Prime Minister B P Koirala’</a>s secretary Kumar Mani Dixit recalls in his memoir how BP expressed his exasperation about the military not being under an elected civilian command. “What can we do when he (Mahendra) has the might of the military behind him,” BP said.&nbsp;
Forty years later, BP’s brother Girija Koirala was also prime minister when the Royal Nepal Army refused to obey his order to mobilise against a deadly <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.ZB0Y_S8w1KM">Maoist attack</a> in 2001 on a police base in Holeri of Rolpa district. Shortly after, Girija Koirala resigned as prime minister.
In 2009, after the Nepal Army was made to drop ‘Royal’ from its name, the military and the political leadership were at odds once again after Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal tried to fire <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/rookmangud-katawal-memoir,1567">Army Chief General Rookmangud Katawal </a>to replace him with his handpicked Lt Gen Kul Bahadur Khadka. Gen Katawal refused to step down, President Ram Baran Yadav overturned the Prime Minister’s decision, and Dahal resigned.
Perhaps past confrontations between Nepal’s military and elected governments have made the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/why-politicians-pamper-the-military">politicians wary of provoking the Army</a>. So they have co-opted generals in National Pride Projects like the Kathmandu-Tarai Expressway so that the military is also tarred with the same brush as themselves.
Now they are eying the Rs73 billion that has accumulated in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11033#.ZB0ZqC8w1KM">Nepal Army Welfare Fund</a>. Some in the top brass want to invest it in banking and real estate, with the active support of political parties.
The report Nepal Kleptocratic Network: Mapping Corruption and Impunity by the Policy Research Institute says political interference <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5270#.ZB0ZyS8w1KM">corrupts the military </a>and sidetracks it from its primary role in defending national security.
The role of the Ministry of Defence is to strengthen civil-military relations and democratise the military, but it has no say. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16287#.ZB0Z9i8w1KM">National Security Council</a> is supposed to strategise on defence and plan on downsizing the Army, but has become a political pawn. &nbsp;
Nepal <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/geopolitical-tug-o-war-over-nepal">borders the two most populous countries</a> with the largest standing armies in the world, and both are nuclear powers. We are not at war with any other country. And yet the Nepal Army takes a big chunk of the annual budget. Can Nepal, like Costa Rica, not have a military at all? We could spend the money on equitable development instead.
While maintaining the trust of the people in the military is important, Nepalis must be made to realise that the Army is not above the Constitution or the laws of the land. The military’s financial dealings should therefore be under scrutiny by civilian courts and the Commission for Investigation of Abuse of Authority.&nbsp;
The army has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-army-pvt-ltd">no business being in business</a>. No good has come out of any military in the world being involved in profit-making ventures. We have seen in neighbouring countries what happens when the army becomes a private limited company. As BP Koirala put it more than half a century ago, 'Nepal’s military needs a new purpose to establish a prosperous future for our democracy.'&nbsp;
&nbsp;A report by Transparency International UK says this: &nbsp;'Business engagements are detrimental to the professionalism of the armed forces, as it serves as a major distraction from its core duties. One of the most harmful consequences of such practices is that the element of profit-making breeds corruption within the military. As evidenced from the case studies in the literature, the scale and type of corruption varies. In more extreme cases, corruption encompasses embezzlement of state funds, tax fraud and even brutal coercive practices on workers. Once the military begins to engage in economic activities, it is often difficult to end such practices.'
Those lines could have been written with Nepal in mind.

Defence mechanism

<figure><img width="1000" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209a29c7e80680e0b5553jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Devi Sunar and her adopted daughter Maina in front of the picture of Devi’s late daughter Maina who was only 14 when she was tortured and killed by the Royal Nepal Army. Photo: GULIGO JIA.</figcaption></figure>These days, every other day seems like an anniversary of one of the more famous crimes committed during the insurgency years. Today marks 18 years since 14-year-old Maina Sunar was <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/02/17/remembering-maina/">detained and murdered by the Royal Nepal Army</a> in Panchkhal of Kavre District.At the peak of the Maoist War, Maina’s case became a symbol of the human rights violations perpetrated by both sides in the decade-long conflict. Nearly two decades later, her mother Devi is <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2013/02/16/still-waiting/">still fighting for justice</a> for the extrajudicial killing of her daughter.Unable to access official channels, Devi has written an open letter asking Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba to uphold rule of law and respect the Court’s decision.'My daughter would have been 33 this year. I had many dreams for her, as I am sure you do too about your son. Everything was robbed from me and my family. Although I won’t be able to bring my daughter back, and nothing could repair that loss, I want to see those responsible brought to justice,' the letter reads.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/">Nepal's unpunished war crimes</a>, Sabita AdhikariShe continues: 'This will give a sense of security and hope, not only to me and my family, but also to hundreds of victims who suffered from similar losses during the armed conflict.'On 17 February 2004, an army patrol looking for Devi detained Maina and her brother for interrogation as a suspected Maoist. Soon after, she disappeared, never to return. Her brother was however sent back. For three years, Sunar’s family kept looking for Maina, having known that she was taken by the soldiers. <img width="400" height="406" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209a49c7e80680e0b5554jpeg.jpg" alt="">It was later revealed that Maina was <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/313/FromtheNepaliPress/12418#.Yg5Dse5Bz0s">electrocuted to death</a> on the same night as retribution for her mother Devi’s vocal criticism of the Army’s involvement in the murder of her niece, Reena Rasaili, accused of being a Maoist supporter.Under pressure from international rights groups, the Army set up a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9966#.Yg5DxO5Bz0s">court of inquiry</a> to investigate the incident and the accused Colonel Bobby Khatri, Captain Sunil Prasad Adhikari and Amit Pun were sentenced to six months imprisonment, fined Rs50,000 and faced a ban on future promotions.But Devi did not think the punishment was commensurate with the crime and filed a case in the civil court. During this time, with help from the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) and the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (UNOHCHR), Maina’s body was exhumed from Panchkhal barracks.On 16 April 2017, after a thirteen-year-long legal battle, the District Court Kavre found three army officers guilty of murdering Maina but they have not been arrested or punished.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/still-missing-but-not-forgotten/">Still looking for dad missing in Nepa</a>l, Anita BhetwalIn her letter, Devi has questioned the existence of two commissions set up to investigate war crimes, the Disappearance Commission and the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/conflict-victims-fear-TRC-only-serves-interests-of-state,2042">Truth and Reconciliation Commission</a> that have little to show in the way of delivering transitional justice.In fact, successive governments made up of former enemies the state has used the commissions to do their bidding and cover up their war crimes. Moreover, the Supreme Court’s order to amend the Transitional Justice Act mechanism is yet to be implemented.'Dear Prime Minister, I have promised my daughter that unless I bring those perpetrators to justice, I won’t rest. The remains of my daughter are still in the Teaching Hospital, and I am not able to perform her last rituals pending the implementation of the court’s decision,' concludes the letter. 'I am waiting to see your commitment to protecting victims instead of perpetrators and respecting court orders to ensure the rule of law in the country.'Read more: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16781#.Yg5HPu5Bz0s">Open Wounds</a>, Mallika Aryal

'She would have been 33 this year'

<figure><img width="1776" height="1149" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/6372094f9c7e80680e0b5534jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Gyan, Buddhisara B.K., parents of two laboureres killed in Kotbada airport, Kalikot.</figcaption></figure>It was 8 December 2002, and my documentary जोगीमाराका ज्युँदाहरु (The Living of Jogimara) was being screened at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival (KIMFF 2002). The hall at the Russian Cultural Centre in Kathmandu was packed, and the audience had overflowed into the aisles. As director, I should have been sitting on the front row. But I had another job that day: to stand next to the projectionist and at exactly 10 minutes 47 seconds, mute the film for 20 seconds. As directed by the military censors, this was to prevent the audience from hearing the narration: ‘A few days after <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6681#.YgimpChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Mangalsen attack</a>, the army arrived at the airfield and opened fire. Thirty-five people were shot dead. Among them were two children, labourers from other parts of Nepal, including 17 young men from Jogimara.’ As a film-maker I had never been trained to mute the sound track during a public screening. My eyes were glued not on the screen but on the digital time counter on the VHS player.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tA34vvNRsSgA year earlier, the Maoists had broken off peace talks and conducted simultaneous raids on army bases across the country. The government declared an emergency, and for the first time mobilised the Royal Nepal Army against the Maoists. Till then it was the police that was fighting the rebels.Today, we know from many countries that crackdowns on the free press in elected democracies can be more draconian than in authoritarian regimes. Twenty years ago, I faced proof of it in that dark auditorium. I was then with <a href="https://cijnepal.org.np" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal (CIJ)</a>. Freed from day-to-day journalism, the job allowed me to look at the conflict in perspective, put the daily death tolls into context, and examine the human side of the war, and its impact on ordinary people.I was following the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13920#.YgiiHChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kotbada massacre in Kalikot</a>. News reports were sketchy and contradictory. State media said ‘many terrorists’ had been killed at the under-construction airfield. Another news item buried in the inside pages said that among the ‘terrorists’ were 17 men from <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15172#.YgiiTShBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jogimara in Dhading district</a>. An RSS report quoted MPs Prem Bahadur Singh from Kalikot and Rajendra Pandey from Dhading as informing the house that the dead were labourers constructing the airfield. <figure><img width="1486" height="1036" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209539c7e80680e0b5535jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>My <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/should-journalists-job-extend-beyond-coverage,1881" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">journalist antennae</a> perked up. I heard from reporter Bhupraj Khadka that a family in Jogimara had conducted a funeral of one of the dead even though it had not received his body from the Army.As a film-maker, I felt this could be a way to portray the cruelty and senselessness of war. But there was an insurgency going on, and filming would be difficult and costly. I approached renowned documentary maker Dhruba Basnet, who had made the film रक्ताम्मे गराहरू (Blood-soaked Terraces) and we had worked together in many parts of Nepal.Rajendra Dahal, editor at Himal Khabarpatrika, offered to publish the story. In Jogimara, I met 15 of the 17 families who had lost their men in a massacre 500km at the other end of Nepal in Kotbada. The story came out in Himal, and Nepali Times <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5700#.Ygih3yhBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">translated it in the issue #106</a> of 9-15 August 2002 (screenshots, below). This was a rare exposé of a conflict-era crime.We started working on the video footage, and were convinced it would be an important documentation of the tragedy. We had to do it on a shoe-string budget, and the film finally premiered at KIMFF 2002.There was pin-drop silence during the screening. From time to time, I could hear sobbing in the dark. But I had to concentrate on the approaching 10:47 on the VHS digital clock. At exactly 47 seconds, projectionist Sudarshan Karki muted the sound. The audience had been quiet till then, but I heard murmurs: “They’re censoring.” I had to have a ready answer in the remaining 32 minutes of the film, because the viewers were sure to have questions afterwards. <img width="1750" height="2448" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209569c7e80680e0b5536jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="2446" height="1096" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209599c7e80680e0b5537jpeg.jpg" alt="">King Gyanendra had just <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5416#.YgikPShBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sacked elected Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba two months prior</a>, and had appointed Lokendra Bahadur Chand as prime minister. The emergency had been lifted, but now the palace and army were in charge.The Royal Nepal Army had got the district administration and Police Inspector Sukhdev Neupane of Kamal Pokhari station to stop the screening. Neupane called to say his bosses wanted to see the film. I replied that it was shot in a new format, and it would take time to convert. He said the police had state-of-the-art equipment in its tv studio and that wouldn’t be a problem.The police were not just trying to stop my film, but were putting pressure on KIMFF organisers Basanta Thapa and Kanak Mani Dixit to cancel the entire festival. They finally agreed on a compromise: show the film, but mute the parts the military found objectionable.When the screening started, I noticed soldiers in camouflage fatigues enter the hall. They had walkie talkies. When the film ended, there was stunned silence, then applause. The lights went up. I strode to the stage to answer audience questions, and the inevitable one: “Why was the film muted in the middle?”I had prepared my answer, but I saw the soldiers glaring at me from offstage. “The system was working, but it went off for a while,” I said, but could not muster the courage for the rest of my prepared answer: “But don’t ask me whether it was the sound system that was broken, or the country’s system.”I stepped off the stage, telling myself that when confronted with a formidable enemy, it is foolish to wage frontal warfare. It is better to outflank the adversary and go into insurgency mode. The censors had forced me to become a guerrilla film-maker. The 38-minute documentary went on to be a hit, with two additional screenings during the festival. Many wept openly. Basanta Thapa wrote later in Himal: “By trying to censor the film, have we been deprived even of the right to cry for our own country?” After KIMFF 2002, the Ministry of Communications imposed a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4413#.YgikvChBzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">censorship rule on all film festival screenings</a>. Since then, there have been many governments that have come and gone in Nepal. But the state has not been able to resist its temptation from time to time to curb the freedom of expression. Mohan Mainali is an author and documentary film-maker.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/6372095c9c7e80680e0b5538jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="145" height="189">

Forbidden to remember the Kotbada massacre

<figure><img width="2400" height="1600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636cebac9c7e80680e09ad1ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Amidst a dramatic surge in Covid-19 infections in Nepal, Prime Minister K P Oli has announced that all big government and private hospitals and medical colleges will be turned into Covid-19 treatment centres. Wearing a surgical mask in his televised address to the nation on Monday, Oli said hospitals like Bir and the Tri-Chandra Army Hospital in Kathmandu and other big private hospitals in the country would serve only people with Covid-19 infections, while smaller hospitals would be designated for non-Covid-19 patients.   He added that the Nepal Army would be adding 1,000 beds for coronavirus patients in each province as well as in Kathmandu Valley, which has been recording half of all new daily infections nationwide in the past week. Bigger hospitals will be setting up their own oxygen plants, Oli said.  The prime minister’s address appears to have been prompted after widespread criticism that his government had ‘surrendered’ to the second wave that has seen a dramatic increase in daily case load and fatalities in the past month. The daily new Covid-19 cases on Saturday, Sunday and Monday were the highest so far in the pandemic with  5,763, 7,211 and 7,448 testing positive. On Monday, there were 37 fatalities in the past 24 hours, bringing the total tally for Covid-19 deaths to 3,362. Altogether 2,021 people recovered from the disease on Monday, with the number of active cases reaching over 50,000 nationwide. Nepal’s Ministry of Health has said that the Covid-19 spread in the country is not just out of control, but that the proportion of those infected who are seriously ill has also gone up. The Ministry’s statistics show that the number of patients needing ICU and ventilator care has increased rapidly in the past two weeks. Of those patients who needed hospital treatment, 17% were serious enough to need intensive care. The number of active cases in Nepal as of Monday is 54,041, of which 50,171 have mild symptoms and are in home isolation. But there are 3,869 Covid-19 patients in private and government hospitals, of which 578 are in ICU, and of them 141 are on ventilator support. Most of the seriously ill are in Bagmati Province, where Kathmandu Valley is located. Of those hospitalised, 22% in the province are seriously ill, and there are 320 patients in ICU and 88 on ventilators. In Province 2, 26% of those in hospital need intensive care, and the proportion is 33% in Karnali Province. However, only 5% of patients in hospitals in Gandaki Province and 6% in Far-West Province need to be in ICU. <figure><img width="1200" height="621" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636cebaf9c7e80680e09ad1fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A patient at an isolation ward in Nepalganj. Photo: UMA MAGAR</figcaption></figure>The Ministry of Health warned over the weekend that hospitals were full, and that the pandemic had gone “out of control”, asking people to strictly observe precautions. The government is advising people not to come to hospital unless their oxygen levels drop below 92, but most Nepalis do not have oximeters at home and do not go to hospital until it is too late.This has prompted local municipalities and wards to set up their own isolation centres, and even oxygen-equipped spaces for those needing treatment.In Nepalganj, Bheri Hospital and other hospitals are full, and infected health personnel are forced to treat Covid-19 patients because there has been no backup support from the central government. Nepalganj has therefore converted its training centre into its own isolation and treatment centre with 50 oxygen equipped beds. “We are trying to do what we can, and already the centre has ten patients who need oxygen,” says Nepalganj mayor Dhawal Shumshere Rana, who has spent Rs2 million of the city’s own budget to set it up and staff it with doctors and nurses who work in three shifts. Patients are provided free food and ambulance service. “it was much cheaper to cover the training centre, and we could bring the isolation ward into operation within a week, and we hope this will provide some respite to the overwhelmed hospitals,” Rana says. “We now want to add another centre with 100 beds. We want to make sure no one has to die because they could not get oxygen, or a hospital bed.”Banke district on the Indian border is finding 400 new Covid-19 cases every day, and about a third of them need hospital admission. The new isolation centres are designed to take the pressure off the district’s hospitals which are treating patients from all over Karnali and Far-western Province. Only those needing ICU and ventilators will be sent to hospitals, Rana says.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/our-health-system-cant-contain-the-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/our-health-system-cant-contain-the-pandemic/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1620125152099000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEFm7L2FXwPP4VPNvvbKh_wensRNg">Health Minister Hridayesh Tripathi</a> told Nepali Times last week that his government would be adding 1,000 hospital beds in Kathmandu to deal with the rush at hospitals in the capital. “Our health system cannot sustain this level of infections,” he said.In Kathmandu, the Social Welfare Council that regulates the activities of non-profit local and international voluntary organisations on Sunday issued a directive requiring them to set aside from 5-20% of their annual budget for Covid-19 related relief.The Council’s Durga Bhattarai said non-profits with main annual budgets up to Rs50 million need to spend 20% of it on helping with the national coronavirus effort, while those with budgets above Rs500 Millie have to set aside 5%. It says the revenue will be used to buy oxygen cylinders, ICU equipment and ventilators, as well as relief for returnee workers from overseas.With more than 25 of Nepal’s 77 districts under some form of lockdown, local governments have been told to enforce the restrictions more strictly, allowing only essential services, medical emergencies and funerals.Government spokesperson Parvat Gurung said the Cabinet on Sunday decided tis suspend all domestic flights from Monday midnight, and all international flights from Wednesday midnight. However, international airlines serving Kathmandu had not been officially notified of the decision.The Cabinet decision on Monday also said that as per the ‘air bubble’ agreement with India, there would be two weekly flights in both directions between Kathmandu and Delhi, but all passengers would have to spend ten days in hotel quarantine in Kathmandu and it would be strictly enforced.Speaking in English at the end of his address, Oli said: "We are of the view that vaccines and critical care medicines are global goods and everyone should have access to it."

Nepal designates more hospitals for Covid-19 treatment

<figure><img width="2400" height="1600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83899c7e80680e067741jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Amidst a dramatic surge in Covid-19 infections in Nepal, Prime Minister K P Oli has announced that all big government and private hospitals and medical colleges will be turned into Covid-19 treatment centres. Wearing a surgical mask in his televised address to the nation on Monday, Oli said hospitals like Bir and the Tri-Chandra Army Hospital in Kathmandu and other big private hospitals in the country would serve only people with Covid-19 infections, while smaller hospitals would be designated for non-Covid-19 patients.   He added that the Nepal Army would be adding 1,000 beds for coronavirus patients in each province as well as in Kathmandu Valley, which has been recording half of all new daily infections nationwide in the past week. Bigger hospitals will be setting up their own oxygen plants, Oli said.  The prime minister’s address appears to have been prompted after widespread criticism that his government had ‘surrendered’ to the second wave that has seen a dramatic increase in daily case load and fatalities in the past month. The daily new Covid-19 cases on Saturday, Sunday and Monday were the highest so far in the pandemic with  5,763, 7,211 and 7,448 testing positive. On Monday, there were 37 fatalities in the past 24 hours, bringing the total tally for Covid-19 deaths to 3,362. Altogether 2,021 people recovered from the disease on Monday, with the number of active cases reaching over 50,000 nationwide. Nepal’s Ministry of Health has said that the Covid-19 spread in the country is not just out of control, but that the proportion of those infected who are seriously ill has also gone up. The Ministry’s statistics show that the number of patients needing ICU and ventilator care has increased rapidly in the past two weeks. Of those patients who needed hospital treatment, 17% were serious enough to need intensive care. The number of active cases in Nepal as of Monday is 54,041, of which 50,171 have mild symptoms and are in home isolation. But there are 3,869 Covid-19 patients in private and government hospitals, of which 578 are in ICU, and of them 141 are on ventilator support. Most of the seriously ill are in Bagmati Province, where Kathmandu Valley is located. Of those hospitalised, 22% in the province are seriously ill, and there are 320 patients in ICU and 88 on ventilators. In Province 2, 26% of those in hospital need intensive care, and the proportion is 33% in Karnali Province. However, only 5% of patients in hospitals in Gandaki Province and 6% in Far-West Province need to be in ICU. <figure><img width="1200" height="621" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b838d9c7e80680e067742jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A patient at an isolation ward in Nepalganj. Photo: UMA MAGAR</figcaption></figure>The Ministry of Health warned over the weekend that hospitals were full, and that the pandemic had gone “out of control”, asking people to strictly observe precautions. The government is advising people not to come to hospital unless their oxygen levels drop below 92, but most Nepalis do not have oximeters at home and do not go to hospital until it is too late.This has prompted local municipalities and wards to set up their own isolation centres, and even oxygen-equipped spaces for those needing treatment.In Nepalganj, Bheri Hospital and other hospitals are full, and infected health personnel are forced to treat Covid-19 patients because there has been no backup support from the central government. Nepalganj has therefore converted its training centre into its own isolation and treatment centre with 50 oxygen equipped beds. “We are trying to do what we can, and already the centre has ten patients who need oxygen,” says Nepalganj mayor Dhawal Shumshere Rana, who has spent Rs2 million of the city’s own budget to set it up and staff it with doctors and nurses who work in three shifts. Patients are provided free food and ambulance service. “it was much cheaper to cover the training centre, and we could bring the isolation ward into operation within a week, and we hope this will provide some respite to the overwhelmed hospitals,” Rana says. “We now want to add another centre with 100 beds. We want to make sure no one has to die because they could not get oxygen, or a hospital bed.”Banke district on the Indian border is finding 400 new Covid-19 cases every day, and about a third of them need hospital admission. The new isolation centres are designed to take the pressure off the district’s hospitals which are treating patients from all over Karnali and Far-western Province. Only those needing ICU and ventilators will be sent to hospitals, Rana says.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/our-health-system-cant-contain-the-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/our-health-system-cant-contain-the-pandemic/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1620125152099000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEFm7L2FXwPP4VPNvvbKh_wensRNg">Health Minister Hridayesh Tripathi</a> told Nepali Times last week that his government would be adding 1,000 hospital beds in Kathmandu to deal with the rush at hospitals in the capital. “Our health system cannot sustain this level of infections,” he said.In Kathmandu, the Social Welfare Council that regulates the activities of non-profit local and international voluntary organisations on Sunday issued a directive requiring them to set aside from 5-20% of their annual budget for Covid-19 related relief.The Council’s Durga Bhattarai said non-profits with main annual budgets up to Rs50 million need to spend 20% of it on helping with the national coronavirus effort, while those with budgets above Rs500 Millie have to set aside 5%. It says the revenue will be used to buy oxygen cylinders, ICU equipment and ventilators, as well as relief for returnee workers from overseas.With more than 25 of Nepal’s 77 districts under some form of lockdown, local governments have been told to enforce the restrictions more strictly, allowing only essential services, medical emergencies and funerals.Government spokesperson Parvat Gurung said the Cabinet on Sunday decided tis suspend all domestic flights from Monday midnight, and all international flights from Wednesday midnight. However, international airlines serving Kathmandu had not been officially notified of the decision.The Cabinet decision on Monday also said that as per the ‘air bubble’ agreement with India, there would be two weekly flights in both directions between Kathmandu and Delhi, but all passengers would have to spend ten days in hotel quarantine in Kathmandu and it would be strictly enforced.Speaking in English at the end of his address, Oli said: "We are of the view that vaccines and critical care medicines are global goods and everyone should have access to it."

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc489c7e80680e08bc14jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="452"/><figcaption>A narrow ridge that served as a helipad in Kalikot district back in 2004 when the Maoist War was on its peak. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Twenty-five years after the Maoist insurgency started on 13 February 1996, journalists who covered that war remember their own experiences reporting on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the conflict</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4b9c7e80680e08bc15jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>One of the many ruins left behind by a decade long Maoist War 1996-2006.</figcaption></figure>Shivering with fearWe reached Pandusen of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15778#.YCx9Si2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bajura district</a> in September 2003. Men were ploughing a terrace with two oxen and sowing wheat. We took out our camera and tripod. But when the men saw us, they fled. Later one of them told us, “We are afraid of strangers. We thought you were soldiers.” He told us the army had come through and killed six people in the village, including Padam Bahadur Shahi.At Padam Bahadur’s house, relatives were in mourning. “He had gone to harvest paddy, he had done nothing wrong, ” his mother Koila told us, weeping. “They brought him here and hit him with rocks.”Padam’s father Gorakh Bahadur said the soldiers even kicked their baby grandson, injuring him. “They led my son away and I followed,” he told us. “They were beating him all the way, his teeth were scattered across the road, he was bleeding.”We climbed up the trail to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2027#.YCx9Ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Martadi</a>. Within half-an-hour we were at Ramlal Damai’s house. He had been killed with a bullet in his head, and his relatives were wailing as they removed his body from the house. Further up in the village of Angaupani, we came across a whole village in mourning for six men who had been killed by soldiers the previous day.We reached Kolti airfield where 12 police had recently been killed. Nearby, the army had killed another 10 villagers accusing them of being Maoists. A couple was in shock after their children aged 10 and five were killed after a Maoist pipe bomb they found in the forest exploded. All around us there was nothing but death and destruction.A year later, I went to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-battered-future,3218" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kailali</a> and Bardia which had the highest number of disappeared during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflict</a>. Their relatives are still waiting for truth and justice.In war, people take to guns. But ultimately it is the gun that takes people away.Mohan Mainali<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4e9c7e80680e08bc16jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="669"><figcaption>A father trying to stop his young son who had decided to join the Maoists. Khotang 2004.</figcaption></figure>Families torn apartIn February 2000, we travelled to the Maoist heartland of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12393#.YCx-nC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6164#.YCx-vC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2928#.YCx-yC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jajarkot</a>. Along the way, we noticed police sentry posts located on treetops for safety. The policemen were playing carom with guns slung on their shoulders. We knew we were entering a war zone. In Libang, we visited Maoist prisoners in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a> district jail. They spoke about being innocent, framed and tortured by the police. We interviewed a Maoist leader, Lokendra Bista. He told us the revolution was actually in response to state violence, but he said the resolution of the conflict was only possible through dialogue, not through violence.In Khalanga of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=328#.YCx-ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a>, there was also a lot of fear. Many who had been driven out or tortured by the Maoists had fled to the district headquarters for safety. We came across children cooking by themselves. One 11-year-old was kneading dough, but he wept as he told us: “The police killed our father and mother, I feel like drinking the blood from their hearts.”Four years later, we went to eastern Nepal. By this time, the army had joined <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.YCx-lC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> and Maoist influence had spread throughout the country. One indelible memory of that time was the farewell of a distraught father in Chisapani of Khotang for his ninth grader student son, Kiran Bista.In the video, the father clutches the boy’s legs and does not want to let go. The boy tries to placate his father: “Don’t do this, Dad. My friends all have fathers. We are all going to war, please don’t do this.”A confident speaker, Kiran later told us later on camera: “I am joining out of my own free will because I have understood that we have to fight for our country.”When we got to Mugu, local Maoists detained us for 22 hours. But it was not till we got to Mudbara of Doti that we found out just how badly the war had affected children. The army had attacked a school in September 2004 after they found out the Maoists had gone there to recruit. Six of the Maoists were killed, but so were four students.“I didn’t even know I had been hit, I was unconscious when they took me to hospital,” said one student Dharma Bhurtel. Her mother, Krishna Maya, broke down as she told us of the pain at seeing her only daughter wounded.Bishnu Prasad was hiding inside a classroom with other students, when soldiers kicked the door in and started shooting. He was hit, and paralysed. “I like to go to school, but I cannot walk now.”Teachers were on the frontlines of the war, and nearly 220 of them were killed by both sides. “After the war started, we were caught in the crossfire. Whichever side fires the guns it is us teachers who get killed,” Ram Bahadur Raut principal of the Chisapani Secondary School in Khotang told us then.Dhruba Basnet<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc529c7e80680e08bc17jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="518"><figcaption>Many Maoist cadre associated carrying guns with being powerful and empowered.</figcaption></figure>Power of the gun<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12319#.YCx_3C2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Children</a> would follow us everywhere. They were very loyal to the Maoist party. Even 10-year-old <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13190#.YCx_5i2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">children</a> had been so effectively brainwashed that they would speak in Maoist jargon, saying “When the revolution is successful, we will be also be rich and powerful.” And they believed it.We went to homes, and heard families talk about the fear of both the police and guerrillas. The Maoists had ordered every household to contribute at least one person to attend their revolutionary meetings and listen to speeches. We attended those cultural programs, as well. The Maoists cadre were full of enthusiasm and energy, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=bead8272edd0f2143&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/still-singing-and-dancing/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiYw6ix8O_uAhUy83MBHRiACWYQFjAAegQIBhAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw06kcWD1ctXQGTrve9YQNmE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">singing and performing revolutionary dances</a> about the liberation of the proletariat. Villagers watched with interest, but there was fear in their eyes.The armed Maoists looked like they were really empowered. I asked some of them how it felt to be carrying a gun? They used to reply: “I feel powerful, now no one can do anything to me.”Amrita Lamsalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzHLTaNnSDo&amp;feature=youtu.beThe smell of fearIn October 2004, we took a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1890#.YCybTI8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">helicopter from Surkhet to Kalikot</a>, flying over the mountains of Dailekh and the Karnali River. On the left we could see Kotbada, where a year previously the Royal Nepal Army had <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/02/13/tears-of-joy-and-sorrow-in-kalikot/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">killed 36 workers building an airfield</a>, mistaking them to be Maoist guerrillas. We were in the heart of the conflict zone to understand how the war was affecting ordinary people in the Karnali.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_219.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kalikot was remote then</a>, as the highway was still being built. At the end of the first day’s walk in Pili, we saw small children slither down from tree tops and scamper off to the village. We found out they were Maoist ‘wholetimers’ on sentry duty.The local Maoists held a village gathering that evening and paraded us on the stage, accusing us of being military spies and “royal mongrels”. The language they used during interrogation that night was straight out of the Khmer Rouge. Two years later, 55 soldiers were killed in a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=721#.YCyBmi2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist attack in Pili</a>.Finally let off the next day, we were detained again in Jubitha by 12-13 year-olds with guns. They could not read, and held our press passes upside down. “We are now in the armed struggle phase of our revolution,” said one youngster.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc559c7e80680e08bc18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>Comrade Mukti in Kalikot in 2004.</figcaption></figure>Along the trail, we passed a group of women guerrillas who gave us red salutes and gripped us in firm handshakes. It was a surprise to see such empowered young women in what was at that time, a part of western Nepal most steeped in patriarchy.As we got closer to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/No-peace,432" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jumla</a> amidst the spectacular scenery of golden terraces of ripening paddy, the blue-green Tila River and the snow-capped Kanjiroba in the distance, there were signs of war damage. Ruins of destroyed homes, charred buildings, empty silent streets. There was no laughter from children, they peered at us from behind upstairs windows, no one talked to strangers. You could smell the fear in the air.Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc589c7e80680e08bc19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="362"><figcaption>Baburam Tamang, one of the 18 Maoist cadre massacred in Ramechap in 2003.</figcaption></figure>The National Human Rights Commission was sending a team to investigate the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4639#.YCylnY8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">massacre of 18 Maoist cadre in Doramba</a> of Ramechhap on 17 August 2003. It included former Chief Justice Krishna Jung Rayamajhi, former Attorney General Bhim Bahadur Bista, forensic physician Harihar Awasti, advocate Hari Phuyal and myself. We reached Doramba 11 days after the killings and found the fresh graves.Local Maoists had gathered at the home of Yubaraj Moktan. The army encircled the house, and those who could, escaped. The others were rounded up, and were led off up towards the Sailung forest with hands tied behind their backs. The army unit was led by Major Ram Mani Pokhrel. Down in the village, people heard calls for help, and then gunshots.The villagers helped us exhume the bodies, and Harihar Awasti went down to examine them one by one. He would dictate the details, which I noted down and shared with Hari Phuyal. The stench of rotting bodies was overpowering. Villagers would recognise the faces, and point to them, saying: “That is Bishnu Maya. That is Lila.” Most had been shot at point blank range in the forehead.A young man handed me a 35mm film roll. We developed it, and found images of the bodies had been thrown over the edge after being killed. And there was a photograph of a local man named <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18623" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Baburam Tamang</a>, the only one without a gunshot in the forehead, but in the arm. It looked like he had bled to death.Villagers told us that night they had heard someone up the mountain call out for help “Ama, ama.” But they were too afraid to go up and check. We think it was a dying Baburam Tamang.The villagers had later buried the bodies, wrapping them in cloth and flag. Nearby was a pile of half-burnt personal effects of those who had been killed. Among them, I found a notepad belonging to Bishnu Maya Thapa Magar, one of those who had been killed.Kanak Mani Dixit

From the frontlines of Nepal’s war

<h2>14 years and 11 prime ministers later</h2> Text and photographs by Bikkil SthapitMany of the over 1,300 people still listed as missing after the Maoist war in Nepal left behind material objects. These are the only memories that remain, connecting the families to the loved ones who were disappeared. These memorabilia from the decade-long war are the only substantial things that the family members have protected – 14 years after the conflict ended. They occupy a special place in the family homes and work places, preserving their presence. The objects also keep faint hopes alive that by some miracle, the family member will suddenly reappear one day. More than 17,000 Nepalis were killed during the insurgency, there were brutal human rights violations and war crimes, including summary executions, disappearances, torture, rape, solitary confinement. Since the end of the conflict in 2006, limited support has been provided to survivors and their families of the disappeared. However, there are no answers to questions like whether they are alive or dead, who killed them, why, where, when? The Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA) was signed on 21 November 2006 between the government of Nepal and the Maoist party. It brought ‘peace’ to a country weary of war, and propelled the former guerrillas to power. However, 14 years and 11 prime ministers later, there have been no efforts to trace the missing, and tell families the truth, or give them justice. Two commissions were formed to investigate gross human rights violations and charge perpetrators, but neither have done much. The discourse around transitional justice in Nepal has approached memory, truth and justice in legalistic terms so that the experience of acute loss of families is often lost. Missing are the personal accounts of survivors and families of victims. <figure><img width="1500" height="1019" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba7fd9c7e80680e0737b7jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure><img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba8009c7e80680e0737b8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1000" height="1401" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba8039c7e80680e0737b9jpeg.jpg" alt="">When my brother, Ajaya Shahi, earned his first salary he bought this shirt. He was  disappeared by the Army on 19 July, 2004. I have safely kept my brothers’ shirt in a separate box.Bijaya ShahiKirtipur <img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba8069c7e80680e0737bajpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="897" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba8099c7e80680e0737bbjpeg.jpg" alt="">My father used to make bronze Buddhas. Why is the army still not telling us what happened to him? Will this bring the peace to the country?Nagma MaliDaughter of Nanda Gopal MaliThecho, Lalitpur <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba80c9c7e80680e0737bcjpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba80f9c7e80680e0737bdjpeg.jpg" alt="">My husband used to carry this sickle all the time in the rice field. It has been lying here ever since he was disappeared, and it is rusted. I have been keeping it safely as his last memento.Ramkali Devi TharuWife of Guru Prasad KathariyaRajapur, Bardia <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8139c7e80680e0737bejpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8169c7e80680e0737bfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8199c7e80680e0737c0jpeg.jpg" alt="">My son used to recite from this Bible at church where we went together. I have kept this Bible thinking he will return some day. When that happens I will hand it over to him.Ratna Kumari MaliMother of Baburaja MaliGodavari, Lalitpur. <figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba81c9c7e80680e0737c1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption></figcaption></figure>My son used the this plough whenever we went to the fields together. Today, we only have the plough. I cannot use it, and my son cannot use it.Surjan TharuBardia <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba81f9c7e80680e0737c2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8229c7e80680e0737c3jpeg.jpg" alt="">He started to work for a pharmacy to manage the household expenses after his father died. This wall clock is the first thing he bought from his salary.I keep looking at it to pass the time till my son returns home. Mohan Maya MaliMother of Rajendra MaliGodavari, Lalitpur.During his 14-month-long jail time, my brother used to send us letters by hiding them inside biscuits and noodle packets. That's how we received this letter too. Butter Cracker and Wai Wai noodles still remind me of him. Even today, whenever I see biscuit and noodles, I anxiously think there might be a letter in it from him.He was in touch with our family until 22 November, 2003. The last letter that we received was written from Sundhara Central Jail.Sapana SuwarnakarSister of the disappeared Ashok AkelaBorlang-5, Gorkha <img width="1131" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8269c7e80680e0737c4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8299c7e80680e0737c5jpeg.jpg" alt="">I was taken to Bhairabnath Batallion on 12 December, 2004. I was wearing this sweater when the army freed me and dropped me off at Banasthali Chok on February 17, 2005. Swatantra Chaulagain of Bhote Chaur, Sindhupalchok, had given me this sweater while we were in the army camp together. “Please register my name at Amnesty. Don’t quit the party if you return safely,” he had told me.Swatantra Chaulagain is still missing.Ujjwal Acharya (name changed)KavreBikkil Sthapit is a rights activist and a photographer who has been documenting the issue of enforced disappearances in Nepal. He also runs the oral history initiative SunaMeroKatha.com These profiles were prepared during the Memory, Truth &amp; Justice project of VOW Media.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <h2>“We went everywhere, but we got no answers” </h2> Text and photographs by Sabrina Dangol <figure><img width="1500" height="1002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba82c9c7e80680e0737c6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>The doorway to Ram Maya’s rented room.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1500" height="1002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba82f9c7e80680e0737c7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Ram Maya Nakarmi’s husband Padma Narayan's picture on the wall.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1500" height="1001" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8339c7e80680e0737c8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A collection of old pictures of Ram Maya’s husband and relatives.</figcaption></figure>Ram Maya Nakarmi, 44, is packing up all her belongings as she prepares to move her residence again. She has been renting a one-bedroom flat with her only daughter, Lumana Nakarmi.It will be the fourth time she moves homes in the last five years, after the 2015 earthquake destroyed her old house, the same one where her husband, Padam Narayan Nakarmi, was forcefully taken away in 2003.Padam Narayan used to work as an ironmonger in a small grill shop in Bungmati. They had been married for five years, and Ram Maya knew that he had been in touch with the Maoist party off and on."Deep down I knew it was coming," she says, remembering that eight of his friends had got arrested a few days earlier.When they came for him, it all happened so fast that she only remembers pleading with the security personnel to let her accompany him to the police station. They refused, but assured her he would return the next day. It has been 17 years, and she never saw her husband again."When they came for Padam, they climbed into our room through a ladder. They didn't even knock or give us a time to decide anything,” Ram Maya recalls. “If I had known back then, I would have locked all the doors and windows shut."<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8379c7e80680e0737c9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="999">Ram Maya retrieving her husband’s picture from her purse.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba83a9c7e80680e0737cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1482" height="988">Ram Maya’s reflection caught in the mirror. <figure><img width="640" height="928" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba83e9c7e80680e0737cbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Portrait of Ram Maya Nakarmi in her rented home in Bungamati.</figcaption></figure>In the months following her husband’s arrest, Ram Maya went to police stations almost every day, walking up to 10km into town and back. Buses were scarce and the fare was expensive. Some of his friends were freed and told her that they had all been together in Bhairabnath Battalion base in Maharajganj for months.Later, Padam Narayan had been separated and taken somewhere else. So, Ram Maya visited Bhairabnath and the army base in Lagankhel regularly for two years.Her daughter Lumana, who was four years old, kept asking for her father. So she took her small child with her to Maharajganj and pleaded with the authorities to at least let her daughter see her father, but they did not allow her.Ram Maya was told to go to the Royal Nepal Army headquarters, and she kept going there, but no one wanted to tell her anything."I am not literate. I don't have people skills, nor can I present an argument properly. My brother-in-law helped me and accompanied me everywhere, but it was of no use. We got no answers," she recalls. <figure><img width="1500" height="999" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8419c7e80680e0737ccjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Ram Maya’s daughter Lumana Nakarmi working in her laptop.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1500" height="1002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8439c7e80680e0737cdjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Ram Maya Nakarmi looking out of the window from her rented room in Bungamati.</figcaption></figure>Ram Maya's in-laws supported her for the first two years of her search, but they also lost hope. Her daughter also stopped asking about her father, and stopped even mentioning him.She got a factory job in Bungamati and focused on raising her daughter, who is now 20, studying and working at the same time. Neither mother nor daughter likes to remember those dark days any more. Ram Maya says, "We somehow survived amidst all the chaos and grief, but it feels like a part of both of our lives have been lost. I say that I have given up, but deep down I still hope for his return.”More on series of features for the International Day of Disappeared:<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-empty-chairs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The empty chairs</a>, Guligo Jia<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/disappearance-of-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Disapperance of justice</a>, Sabrina Dangol

Only memories remain

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

A new architecture for Nepal's tourism

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

“Tell me what the common man is thinking!”

He had just sat down for lunch after tending the garden at his house in Lagan Tole on 25 April 2015 when the ground began to shake violently. &nbsp; Gautam Nepal, 56 at the time, realised it was an earthquake. He panicked at the thought of his neighbours' multi-storied buildings toppling on top of his modest one-storey house. He rushed out as the high-rises swayed and groaned. “We were used to earthquakes, moderate ones are a regular occurrence in Kathmandu, but I had never felt fear like I felt on that day,” recalls Gautam. “My house proved strong, it did not collapse.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250419040440_82a74881218223df70e30eb1759cd3a7c9edbb7728acef83c3f8b397d6e6dfe9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1737" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>LAGAN TOLE'S TOLL: Lagan Tole photographed by tour guide Neil S Rawlins during his travel to Kathmandu in February 1970.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250419040448_90914720a75b7d31a12bc27f0c0af9484a5e5efc7dd797dc6bcd190fc28ecdcb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole photographed by Neils Gutschow in 1992.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a4dd35b070949949bfe275eff8216dd29f88f74a30b063dc614845226f68f03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan Tole in 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Other residents of Lagan who also live in traditional low rise houses had the same fear. Tara Nepali, then 48, was doing the washing that Saturday.&nbsp; She recalls, “When my house began to shake, I could only think about the bigger buildings falling on top of me. I was sure my house would collapse, but to my surprise, it survived, and so did we.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250419040440_2b4b1ec427d9aec5980021b97b25ca3164d5f79337f113ba02b1d802f71b7cad" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Gautam Nepali in front of his one-storey Lagan home, where he had been having lunch just before the earthquake struck 10 years ago.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250419040436_6f8a7057bbd269214712076e13117b665165e03a0351db0e3666aee05e91f63c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Tara Nepali in front of her house in Lagan. She was doing the washing during the earthquake in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  But Buddha Khadgi, 68, was not so lucky. His was one of the few houses in the neighbourhood to be reduced to rubble. His lifelong collection of photographic prints were buried, and so were the traditional Newari musical instruments passed down through generations of his family that he used to give music lessons.&nbsp; “I lost the things that connected me to my roots and my heritage. That was infinitely more heartbreaking than the fact that my house was gone,” says Khadgi, now living in a new cement structure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250419040436_58f4a8ee4eb740536c69096a4d8c0cd2007fdbcc4ef56551ff460d2ef0ef6f2b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2496" height="1671" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli some decades ago. Photo: SHREE RAM NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250419040440_6b2bacaf0a1e93b441aff8093b343836d6de0b44d7b29f9b758209845f675bff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Lagan's Maka Galli in 2025. The neighbourhood's old Newari houses have been replaced by concrete structures, although the falcha has been rebuilt in traditional style.</figcaption> </figure>  Lagan Tole in Kathmandu's historic heart emerged relatively unscathed from the earthquake in large part because, like in nearby Asan, the buildings are densely packed and lean on each other. But in the years after the earthquake, urban pressure and fear of future quakes have made families tear down their traditional houses with sloping tile roofs and replace them with concrete structures.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250419040440_25983e79dc88388cb370b16f7f631e4c276cfc997ffa1f9ce3701e40c876b355" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>Glimpses of present-day Lagan.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250419040440_9a6a88df8815352a452895c43840a898d4b6c080b79562383306c0cfe8bcd952" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250419040440_a348b974bd3a5e76d0bf9b309f98813556d43dd6c361856c67e79c03d4283e69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> </figure>  Lagan’s longtime residents, especially the elderly whose families have lived here for generations, say that the neighbourhood with its characterless new tall cement boxes is no longer familiar to them. “We used to say that our houses are not supposed to be taller than temples, the houses of our gods,” says Gautam. “Now, the houses here dwarf the temples and even the chariot of Seto Machindranath.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250419040440_88d18ce580abaf9e62fd807403f2e3c9a5bd8972d3b32bdacb97d8991c7fec35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1041" height="1441" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan on 10 April 1998, during which the chariot caught fire. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250419040440_c403f91f9a48c14eaaeed2d38a2cb97714416765730b6d12f29487f9b0f47e83" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Loss of soul and soil NT"> <figcaption>The Seto Machindranath procession at Lagan earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;The old baha courtyards, falcha resting places, and open spaces where Lagan’s residents used to grow vegetables and gather as a community are nearly all gone. And the taller the houses get, residents say they feel less anchored to the soil. Lagan has also lost its soul -- the community spirit is eroding as elderly neighbours rarely venture down to meet each other in the evenings. &nbsp; “This no longer feels like the tole I grew up in,” says a resident. “We are beginning to lose the relationships we had with each other as a community, and with it, the spirit of Lagan.”&nbsp;

Loss of soul and soil

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Loss of soul and soil

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