Next to my home in Bhainsepati stood a dead Uttis tree next to a public tap. A nearby water tank built a year earlier had killed its roots.
If the tree collapsed, people living nearby and those queuing up to fetch water at the tap would be hurt. With the storm season approaching, the risk was obvious. The tree could also fall on my own house, so I volunteered to find a way to remove this threat.
Little did I know how difficult it would be. A forest officer acquaintance told me there is a special procedure for cutting risky trees. I contacted the Lalitpur District Forest Office (DFO).&nbsp;
He said a technical report from a field officer was needed, and passed on her number. When I called, she asked for the location, photos, and a video. I send them all.
The ward office also suggested I use Lalitpur Metropolitan City’s mobile app, Lalitpur Alert, to report the problem. I uploaded photos, and submitted the complaint. This seemed to be very easy and efficient.
Indeed, the next day the municipality called me back and I explained the situation. They said they could not act without permission from the DFO. I asked why the app existed if the city could not act on such complaints. The officer said he did not know. My happiness was short-lived.
A couple of days later, the app notified me that my problem had been solved, and the complaint was removed. But the dead tree still stood there defiantly.&nbsp;
A week later, two forest technicians arrived on a scooter to inspect the tree. They looked up at the tree and asked if I had a measuring tape so they could measure its diameter.
“You are the technicians,” I told them. “You came to inspect the tree, and you came without a measuring tape?”
I rummaged at home and found a tape measure. They got the diameter and said they would prepare a technical report, but I would have to obtain a recommendation letter from the ward office and submit it to the DFO.
“This tree is dead,” I told them. “It is on public land. You have seen it with your own eyes. You know it's dangerous, so write a report and arrange for it to be cut. Why do I have to run from office to office to apply for recommendation letters?”
Their answer was simple, yet expected: “Those are the rules.”
They left, and I gave up. Two technicians spent half a day visiting the site. The metropolis runs a complaint system with a mobile app funded with public money. The ward office has staff to solve problems. Yet none of these institutions took the responsibility to remove a dangerous tree.
Everyone is busy citing rules and regulations and passing the buck. Weeks passed. Everyone reacted to the problem, but no one took any responsibility to resolving it.
Then, one bright December morning under a deep blue sky, a few neighbourhood boys were swinging their axes on the trunk. They had no proper equipment, no safety gear, and no professional experience.
I gave the boys some money and so did a neighbour. It took an hour or so for the tree to come crashing down safely. We had paid to have the tree cut illegally, and the matter ended there.
Multiple government offices, technicians, procedures, and mobile apps could not remove a dangerous tree, and we had to break the law to cut it. The tree is gone now, but the real problem remains: an inefficient bureaucracy.&nbsp;
It is perhaps symbolic that the tree is the election sign of the Nepali Congress, which was part of Nepal's governance and bureaucracy for decades and did not perform well in this month's election.&nbsp;
That is the bureaucracy that the new RSP government now has to get to work. But it will not be easy.
I posted on Facebook: ‘When people feel leaders have grown arrogant or corrupt with power, they change their minds and their votes. If those who replace them follow the same path, voters will again change their minds and votes.’
I continued: ‘The strength of democracy lies in this simple principle: the more citizens act as independent voters, the stronger democracy becomes. The more they behave as party loyalists, the weaker it grows. If we want a better system, we must demand deep reform of the state bureaucracy and hold institutions accountable.’&nbsp;
The first responses came from two senior government officials. They told me privately that they agreed by 200% but could not say so publicly.
It is quite normal for a Nepali to get the run around in government offices, it is almost a given to be asked for a bribe. As an environmental reporter and citizen, I have numerous such examples.
It is not just one sector that has been suffering. It is everywhere, and this is just an example of how complicated our bureaucracy is. As a 40 something person, I am old enough to remember the 1990 pro-democracy movement, &nbsp;the Maoist insurgency. Many promises made then by the politicians were broken.
We fought for rights, we fought for regime change. The country has changed political systems several times, from monarchy to multiparty democracy and finally a republic.
Yet one thing that remains largely untouched or reformed is our inefficient and corrupt bureaucracy. The new government, to be led by the youngest prime minister in our history must start this reform if it wants to deliver.&nbsp;
Otherwise, we may have to keep changing governments every few years, and still find ourselves unable to legally cut down even one dead tree.

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A dead tree tests Nepal's bureaucracy

“Two lakhs and your job will be done.” We overheard a bureaucrat casually say this to a single mother in a government office. Corruption is a given in Nepali society. From Social Studies books in school to conversations at dinners, it was always understood that a key reason why our country fails time and again is the kleptocracy. Seeing it play out in front of our eyes was disconcerting. The woman pleaded that she did not have that kind of money: “हामीसंग तेत्रो पैसा छैन सर, मिलाइदिनुस न”. If it is so normal for people to need social or economic capital to get the simplest things done, what happens to those who have neither? Corruption is not just stealing money, it steals time, agency, it steals dreams, robs citizens of their rights, it steals their future.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250909120912_cd93a827631d987ee52723aa270faf45aa42e4322eb8f06304b28215e3cea28a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1042" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"></figure>  The very system supposed to protect the underserved serves the already privileged, further widening class, caste and gender gaps. Everywhere, we saw recurring normalisation of corruption. We saw no future for ourselves in a country rotten to the core. We sought escape just like the 65,000 Nepali youth who leave the country every month searching for opportunities beyond our borders. The system was driving us out. We saw and experienced the dysfunction, but stayed silent. We carried the discontent, and accepted it as the norm. That shared silence broke on 8 September 2025. The collective anger was not just towards corruption by politicians and bureaucrats, but the impunity and opacity of the system. The rot at the top infected every level of the state, legitimising and seeping into mundane everyday transactions.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251227031220_3c4ae462401eb6364ce48bdf79b73b3d6171f391caf78bd7177219d14c730c35" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="8 September protests"></figure>  The GenZ protest became the turning point. Engulfed by a sense of helplessness, we gathered at Maitighar Mandala that Monday morning to vent our pent up frustration. The protests escalated into a massacre, and then devastating destruction. We needed to channel the rage and remorse into reform, and not deepen the crisis. Our anger was not just directed at the political Troika, but also at the entire culture of impunity and the systemic barriers to progress. We were not alone in this bureaucratic hell, it was a national collective experience. We were saying enough is enough, and we will not accept it anymore. SEEKING A SAVIOUR But here is the thing: we are so so used to heroic stories and movies that end with the protagonist saving all of humanity that we often fall into the trap of looking for a singular saviour in real life as well. Even during this national crisis, we turned to individuals in the hope that they would correct historical wrongs overnight. We conveniently avoided pointing out our own hypocrisy. It was us who vilified the Big Three serial prime ministers for ruining the country, yet here we are expecting one single person to save us all.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251227031224_47155c550f30fcfbcd34536ae5a1df4008c775d88b49e2998c251ab1ee8e2f5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu protests"><figcaption>Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption></figure>  In conversations with friends before September, they would be resigned to their fate and would say “यस्तै हो अब देशमा केहि हुँदैन”. We realise now that disengagement is a trap. The more we withdraw, the more we become isolated from the countless people and their active efforts to make this nation better. Hopelessness takes root when good people do nothing and evade their own responsibilities. So, if we can neither rely on a singular hero nor live in a bubble of hopelessness, where does that leave us? It leaves us with each other. In our disillusionment with new saviours, we began to notice a different group of people. These were not leaders on the podium reciting a million promises, but ordinary citizens who made the extraordinary decision to stop waiting and start building. They were the living embodiment of accountability, and we wanted to join in. While we are hopeful and full of ideas, we still lack real-world knowledge to navigate these systemic issues ourselves. This truth hit home during our time with Incubate Nepal, a research program that gave our project, Bureaucrazy, its initial headstart. What began as an eight-week student project quickly revealed its scope as far larger. Bureaucrazy is an AI-enabled platform built voluntarily by us high school graduates led by three female mentors. It was initially designed to help students get two crucial documents (No-objection Certificate and Letter of Equivalence) for education overseas. We were building solutions for our own generation, hoping to smooth a path we had found frustratingly rough. When we took our prototype to the very bureaucrats it was meant to assist, we were met with skepticism.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251227031224_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2916" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Singha Daraba reconstruction"><figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption></figure>  Their reluctance was clear, but it only fueled our determination. Today, Bureaucrazy has evolved beyond its original purpose. By integrating updated AI and expanding our databases, it now answers questions on various bureaucratic processes, from student documents to the ongoing national elections. We are continually updating it, solving problems as they crop up. Being confronted with both our own limitations and systemic inertia was a deeply personal and humbling experience. Corruption stole our roads, our education, our resources, but it did not steal our spirit. Every day, we are more hopeful, not because the problems have vanished, but because we now know with certainty that there are people already at work, patiently and skillfully building a better country. When we work on bureaucrazy.co, when we meet honest bureaucrats, when we talk to young people navigating ways of entrepreneurship, we know that this country is not lost. Maybe we cannot fix everything at once, but we can keep showing up. We can keep building small pockets of hope until they connect into something larger. And one day, living in our Motherland will not feel like a burden that one has to escape, but a place full of possibilities.

Rage in 2025, repair in 2026

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

Manoj Kumar Mahara grew up in a Dalit settlement near Janakpur in a family that could not even afford to send its children to school.&nbsp; Still, he was one of only two students from the community that went to school. But he had to drop out in Grade 10 because his father went overseas to work. His mother worked as a farmhand in a landlord’s field.&nbsp; The family borrowed money to pay for Mahara’s high school, and as he prepared for the Public Service Commission exam. Because of the government quota for Madhesis, he got a job in the civil service in 2016. &nbsp; Now 32, Mahara is a senior officer at the Land Management and Revenue Office of Siraha district, one of few from his community to have a government job. Because of his earnings, his father no longer has to toil in Saudi Arabia and he has paid off the Rs100,000 loan his family owed to a microfinance company. “It would have been tough for me to get this job had it not been for the reservation system,” he says. “This government job is not just my livelihood, it also gives my family dignity and respect in the community.”&nbsp; Many Nepalis in the Tarai face double the discrimination because of being both Madhesi and Dalit – both the communities have faced historical ostracisation and economic deprivation.&nbsp; Even within the Dalit community there are sub-castes: nineteen in the Tarai and seven in the mountains. The discrimination against Dalits in the Madhes is said to be worse. &nbsp; Nepal’s civil service reservation policy, introduced after the post-conflict 2007 Interim Constitution, gave Nepalis from excluded and underserved communities an opportunity to participate in the state mechanism, changing its structure in the process.&nbsp; In the 17 years since, Dalits and others have had a more proportional representation in the state structure than before, although there is still a long way to go. And even though the laws are there, societal and cultural discrimination is slower to change. &nbsp; Discussions about affirmative action to redress discrimination began in fact after the 1990 People’s Movement. Before that, discourse on gender, indigenous rights and exclusion of Dalits were considered ‘development’ issues rather than violations of human rights.&nbsp; The 1990 Constitution acknowledged diversity and inclusion for the first time, and while the Constitution Drafting Committee had arranged for a 5% reservation for women and 3% for Dalits, the interim government removed the quota for Dalits before the Constitution was promulgated.&nbsp; Under the post-conflict Comprehensive Peace Accord of 2006, the inclusion of Dalits and minorities was explicitly mentioned as a part of the state restructuring process. Article 21 of Nepal’s Interim Constitution 2007 guaranteed social justice, stipulating: ‘Women, Dalits, indigenous ethnic groups, Madhesi communities, oppressed groups, poor farmers and labourers, who are economically, socially or educationally backward, shall have the right to participate in state structure on the basis of principles of proportional inclusion.’ Tula Narayan Shah, chairman of the Nepal Madhesh Foundation, concedes that the reservation policy has brought communities previously excluded from the state mechanism to the mainstream, helping bridge the inequality gap. “Previously, Nepal’s civil service was almost entirely made up of Brahmin and Chhetri men, reservation has ensured the presence of different communities,” Shah told us. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-uncivil-servants">Nepal's uncivil servants</a>, Bimala Rai Paudyal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024090619094_6f1bbb1002b8b02533ecc6cdea92250667d34b2f0647ffd94a64921397f70a12.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024090619094_6f1bbb1002b8b02533ecc6cdea92250667d34b2f0647ffd94a64921397f70a12" data-rendition-name="original" width="1357" height="819" loading="lazy" alt="reservation graph NT"> </figure>  Hill Dalits have benefited more from reservation, while Madhesi Dalits remain on the sidelines. Indeed, while reservation has played a significant role in ensuring the representation of different communities in government service, the Public Service Commission’s data from the last seven years shows that access to reservation itself has not percolated past those who are on the top of the hierarchy of reserved groups to reach socio-economically marginalised communities.&nbsp; For instance, while 97 of Nepal’s caste groups have entered government service, 45 other groups remain excluded. The presence of underserved caste and ethnic groups within the indigenous community is still small, and in many cases disproportionate to the population of those communities.&nbsp; “Even within the Dalit community, hill Dalits have benefited more than those from the Madhes,” says Umesh Prasad Mainali of the Public Service Commission. “While reservation has brought positive change, its benefits have fallen to only selected castes within the cluster groups.” &nbsp; Meanwhile, the Tarai’s Brahmin community makes up most of the Madhesi category in the civil service, which means Dalits get left out even though they can compete under two cluster groups. Journalist and human rights activist Bhola Paswan says that the double discrimination, poverty, lack of access to education, and language barriers have contributed to the continued underrepresentation of Madhesi Dalits in Nepal’s civil service.&nbsp; “Madhesi Dalits with a literacy rate of 48% can compete within Dalits, but how can they compete with higher caste Madhesis who have a 100% literacy rate?” asks Paswan, who says caste reservation is in urgent need of review. Other experts say that the 45% civil service seats set aside to ensure inclusion is not effective because even though women are allocated 33% of reservation seats, it has not translated into reality, especially since women make up 51% of Nepal’s population. There are also complications when an individual is part of more than one group allocated for reservation. For instance, a Dalit woman can apply under the women category, Dalit category, or through open competition.&nbsp; “Since the Dalit quota is not categorised by gender, her competition will ultimately be with women and Dalits as a whole,” explains researcher Kailash Rai, who says a separate provision for women under different reserved categories would be more fair.&nbsp; Muslims have also been at a disadvantage because they are placed in the Madhesi category for the civil service, although the proportional representation criteria applies for them in politics. In 2021, the Madheshi Commission included the Tharu and Muslims as part of the Madhesi community, which was widely disputed, since there are separate Tharu and Muslim commissions. Mohammad Zakir Hussain, former State Minister for Women, Children and Social Welfare, argues that there are also Muslims from Nepal’s mountain districts, and his community cannot compete with Madhesi Brahmins who are better educated and connected.&nbsp; In 2020, medical student Binay Kumar Panjiyar sought a Supreme Court intervention to demand a government scholarship for a postgraduate in medicine. The court ruled that reservation should be interpreted as a class issue, which was itself criticised for undermining reservation for representation by gender, caste, ethnic, and geography. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/including-the-excluded-in-the-bureaucracy">Including the excluded in the bureaucracy</a>, Nepali Times  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024090619094_d9c0e04a921e5a7b331f30dd521e307563c2bb413ac13765d24930d311cbaa55.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024090619094_d9c0e04a921e5a7b331f30dd521e307563c2bb413ac13765d24930d311cbaa55" data-rendition-name="original" width="870" height="828" loading="lazy" alt="Reservation graph NT"> </figure>  Lack of access to education is deemed to be the main reason communities have not been able to benefit from representation quotas.&nbsp; “Reservation allocation must look into marginalised groups within underserved communities and take into account education and economic conditions across cluster groups themselves,” says researcher Bhaskar Gautam. Indeed, Magar, Rai and Gurung communities have not been represented in the civil service in proportion to their population, and Ram Bahadur Thapa Magar, of the Indigenous Nationalities Commission explains the main reasons: “They prefer to join the military, go for foreign employment, and lack access to education.”&nbsp; However, anthropologist Mukta Singh Lama blames underrepresentation of these communities to historic state exclusion. “Although they are a large part of Nepal’s population, these communities have been historically oppressed, and have not had access to education and information, which means they have had minimum participation in the state mechanism.” Lama suggests reducing the quota for caste groups who have already been represented in civil service in proportion to their population and reallocating those seats to other communities. Devraj Bishwokarma, chair of the National Dalit Commission, agrees seats for those communities under the cluster groups whose reserved quota has been completed, must be reduced so that hitherto excluded communities are represented in civil service in proportion to their population.&nbsp; Umesh Prasad Mainali, former chair of the Public Service Commission, says that some of Nepal’s indigenous communities have reached economic, social and educational advancement through reservation so they no longer need to be included. “This problem should be addressed by the upcoming Federal Civil Service Act.”&nbsp; Mainali adds,“We might not be able to represent all of Nepal because of the scale of our diversity, but groups with a larger demographic presence must be included.”&nbsp; Some activists say the current reservation system has elevated privileged groups and it would be more prudent to set aside quotas on the basis of class rather than on caste or ethnicity.&nbsp; “People representing only a select few caste groups have entered civil service,” says Vijay Kumar Datta of the Madheshi Commission. “At this rate it will take another 200 years for less privileged Madhesi communities to be represented in the civil service.” In a report titled The Impact of Reservation on Existing Government Services published in 2021, the National Inclusion Commission recommended that reservation should be abolished altogether by 2034. ‘The goal of the six allocated groups making up 45% of the civil service seems to be achievable within the next 14 years … it is not desirable to maintain the reservation system beyond that time,’ the report says.&nbsp; The report also drew a backlash for not taking into account the benefits of reservation to the target communities — as did the six-member commission that prepared the report, all of whom belonged to privileged caste groups. &nbsp; The discussion was reignited earlier this month as commentators drew parallels between Nepal’s reservation system with the Bangladesh student protests against their quota system even though, there, it was anger over the increased job quotas for cadres of the Awami League.&nbsp; The debate between affirmative action and meritocracy is a long one, and has been going on in every country. Although Nepal’s inclusion policy aimed to represent historically excluded communities and state bodies, it did not consider the shortcomings. &nbsp; Says Bhaskar Gautam: “If the state had properly committed to the policy during the Constitution-making process, reservation quotas could have been allocated to those who have been sidelined even within the marginalised communities.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/whose-country-is-it-anyway">Whose country is it anyway?</a>, Editorial <h2>By the numbers</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024090619090_922a5c8cb8c1ef05b866f693cfef94fb33251f607aef29788f6b35b297435c04.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024090619090_922a5c8cb8c1ef05b866f693cfef94fb33251f607aef29788f6b35b297435c04" data-rendition-name="original" width="1202" height="690" loading="lazy" alt="10-11 graph"> <figcaption>Current distribution of civil service jobs by cluster groups.</figcaption> </figure>  The Civil Service Reservation Policy was introduced in Nepal through the Second Amendment in 2007 to the 1993 Civil Service Act, which stated that in order to make the civil service inclusive, 45% of the total posts shall be set aside and be filled up by having separate competition between six groups based on gender, ethnic and caste background, as well as geography. This ‘positive discrimination’ policy allocates 33% of civil service jobs for women, 27% to indigenous groups, 22% to Madhesi people, 9% to Dalits and 5% to people with disabilities, and 4% to people from ‘backward areas’ (which include six districts of Karnali Province and three from Sudurpaschim Province). Nepalis from poorer Brahmin and Chhetri communities are also eligible for reservation.&nbsp; Since the introduction of the reservation system 17 years ago, the percentage of Dalits in the civil service has increased from 0.13% to 1.76%, while the percentage of Muslims has gone up from 0.13% to 1.92%. Only 11 caste groups were present in government jobs in 2007, compared to 97 today. There are currently 85,520 civil service employees, of which 68.6% entered through direct competition, 7.4% of civil service workers are women, 5.4% are from indigenous communities, 4.1% are Madhesi, 1.6% are Dalit, 0.8% are people with disabilities, and 0.7% are from backward areas.&nbsp; Meanwhile, the percentage of Khas Arya Nepalis in the civil service has gone down from 80.6% before the implementation of reservation to 70% at present – still the largest share in the civil service.&nbsp; According to the National Census, Brahmins, constitute 11.3% of the population but make up 34.18% of the civil service, while Chhetris who make up 16.45% of the population hold 19.15% of government jobs. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/quality-of-equality-for-women">Quality of equality for women</a>, Editorial

Reaffirming affirmative action

Rivers have been the lifelines of civilisations with their dynamic ecosystems providing vital services for human survival and ecological balance through the ages.&nbsp; But accelerating anthropocentric footprints are causing severe, and often irreversible, damage to river systems across the world, including those across High Asia, a region that sustains nearly a fourth of the global population downstream. An example is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-the-bagmati-civilisation-is-becoming-uncivilised" target="_blank">Bagmati River</a> that courses through Kathmandu, crosses the Himalayan foothills to join the Ganga in India. A river that once shaped the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/when-it-comes-to-water-pollution,3196" target="_blank">Kathmandu Valley Civilisation </a>is now a polluted and biologically dead water body constricted by urban sprawl, choked by construction debris, chemical waste and untreated sewage.&nbsp; The loss of a sacred river is tragic enough, but its hazards related to health, life and livelihoods are not limited to the Valley, nor is its enormity fully gauged by the metrics of fatality, income loss, flood return periods, runoffs, embankment failure.&nbsp; It is a systemic collapse of ecological integrity, socio-economic stability and cultural heritage, affecting its downstream users as well. The death of Bagmati is a peril for a population size way bigger than circa 5 million residents of Kathmandu Valley. The degradation started in the 1980s and has accelerated. Why has not enough been done to save this iconic river that runs through Nepal’s capital?&nbsp; The Bagmati River Basin Improvement Project (BRBIP) was designed to make headway in restoring the river with a sewage treatment plant, dams for storing water to support dry-season runoff, recharge groundwater, creation of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resurrecting-bagmati-the-river" target="_blank">green biodiversity corridors</a> along the river bank to also serve as recreation areas, reduce the urban heat island effect, and also provide cultural continuity. The project also envisages collection of hydrological data for managing Bagmati multipurposewater systems and providing flood forecasts and early warnings aimed at protecting lives and property, among other things. Most importantly, the project takes the integrated water resource management approach, which, in principle, is a holistic and collaborative way of managing all elements of the water cycle to ensure water security, public and environmental health and amenity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260329040336_9605240fa8c7d649ce49fbe43565130e3187e979338ccf959c4e9b8c581b7a4c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260329040336_9605240fa8c7d649ce49fbe43565130e3187e979338ccf959c4e9b8c581b7a4c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2126" height="1577" loading="lazy" alt="Bagmati NT"> </figure>  This should pave the way for managing a river as a connected ecological, social, and economic system by enabling coordination across agencies and disciplines, stimulating technological innovation and financial investment. The success of this approach depends on long-term political will and commitment that transcend political cycles, but also needs strong community and civil society in defining issues and proposing solutions, creating and sharing knowledge, taking independent action to inform practice, monitoring and evaluating policies, and participating in public decision-making. Civil society, especially, in making the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/encounter-with-bagmati-river" target="_blank">revival of the Bagmati River</a> a pressing governance issue. The Bagmati Action Plan 2009, a precursor to the BRBIP, was designed in response to lawsuits filed in 2000 and 2004 by an independent legal practitioner of Kathmandu against waste dumping in the river.&nbsp; It took him almost two decades of legal battle for Nepal’s Supreme Court to pass orders for mandatory septic tanks in all homes in Kathmandu Valley, relocation of squatters from Bagmati river banks to government-built houses, and embargo on dumping and burying garbage on the banks of the river and its tributaries. Despite court orders, however, actual results have been unsatisfactory. Restoration of Bagmati barely made it to any political debate or electoral manifesto this time. Treatment plants have not been operational for years, yet no one is held accountable. The population ignores waste segregation or single-use plastic rules to check littering.&nbsp; The current condition of the river therefore seems to have more to do with the lack of public awareness and behaviour change than the failure of various master plans. Why does the deep danger of a dead river fail to arouse widespread civil society concern, let alone action? The apathy is perhaps underlined by an innately anthropocentric understanding of the river as a mere resource to be exploited, rather than the backbone of existence.&nbsp; Such a paradigm shift is possible when river or river systems are understood to be necessary for &nbsp;a harmonious coexistence with human populations. The more pertinent question is not whether a dead river can be restored because there are many examples from around the world where that has been successfully achieved. It is whether we choose to restore our rivers for intergenerational equity. This would require a holistic perspective and political will to revive reverence for a river system so that its symbiotic relationship with human settlements can be restored. Roshni Gurung is Research Assistant, River Basins at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

A lifeline becomes liability

As a direct fallout of the Israel-American war on Iran, Nepal on Monday nearly doubled the price of aviation fuel in a move that is going to impact during the spring peak tourism season. The steep price hike of jet fuel appears to have been made to cushion the impact on the general public. The price of petrol, diesel and cooking gas were also hiked for the third time in a month on Thursday.&nbsp; Aviation turbine fuel (ATF) will now cost $2,237/ton up from $1,207. The cost of ATF in Kathmandu was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sky-high-fuel-price-hits-nepal-s-tourism-airlines" target="_blank">already one of the highest among Asian airports</a>, and this price hike will affect mostly long-haul flights to Istanbul, Seoul and Narita for airlines that need to refuel in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260404130420_4ae075d1e871fc5608cf242d6e309005d30cfdb6e6d0ecfb45ca7388a851c6aa.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260404130420_4ae075d1e871fc5608cf242d6e309005d30cfdb6e6d0ecfb45ca7388a851c6aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1784" height="1294" loading="lazy" alt="aviation turbine fuel prices"> </figure>  Domestic airlines, which paid Rs127 per litre, will now have to pay Rs251 for their turboprop planes. “We have no recourse but to pass this on to passengers as a fuel surcharge,” said one executive of a domestic airline in Nepal. As it is, Nepal Oil Corporation levied a hefty tax on petrol and ATF in order to subsidise diesel and cooking gas. Many analysts were expecting a fuel price hike, but the near-doubling of the price of ATF means the new Nepal government is trying to protect ordinary citizens from raising the price of diesel and LPG even more than it has so far. Aviation fuel in Nepal is trucked in on tankers from Indian refineries and its price is highest in Kathmandu, and less in Bhairawa and Pokhara — transportation costs being higher depending on distance. But even in Bhairawa, ATF prices have doubled for the only international airline that serves it, Thai AirAsia.&nbsp; Most airlines flying Kathmandu from nearer airports in India, the Gulf and Southeast Asia will be less impacted because they can fly in on full tanks and need minimum refuelling in Kathmandu. But carriers like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/high-cost-lays-aviation-low-in-nepal" target="_blank">Turkish Airlines</a>, Cathay Pacific, Korean Air, &nbsp;and Nepal Airlines which fly wide body aircraft on long-distance routes will be hit hardest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026040305040_a40db74375ebe0c28e7c35477bc262df9ae392a84e7bfa4033996181d69e0209.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026040305040_a40db74375ebe0c28e7c35477bc262df9ae392a84e7bfa4033996181d69e0209" data-rendition-name="original" width="1032" height="689" loading="lazy" alt="sky high prices"> </figure>  However, ATF costs have also been raised in regional airports like Hong Kong, India and Singapore. Aviation fuel at New Delhi airport has risen to $1,698/ton. Korean Air is adopting emergency measures to reduce expenses to make up for rising fuel costs. South Korea gets nearly all its fuel from the Gulf, and the blocking of the Strait of Hormuz has been especially damaging for the country. Fuel makes up more than a third of the operating cost of airlines, and even a small increase in ATF prices can make a big difference. Crude oil prices have increased 50% since the West Asia war began on 28 February, and global ATF prices have doubled.&nbsp; Airlines in Asia, including Nepal, face a double shock. The first is the higher fuel cost, and the second is that fewer people are travelling. Nepal’s tourism arrivals fell in March compared to February. India has added up to 20% fuel surcharge on domestic flights, and has reduced flights by 12%. Chinese airlines have also been affected, with China Eastern preparing for a significant impact of the Gulf war. It has added fuel surcharges to new tickets, as have Cathay Pacific, Thai International and Air Asia. Vietnam has drastically cut the number of domestic flights, and the Philippines will ration ATF. Australia imports 90% of its ATF mainly from China which has stopped export to ensure domestic supply to its own airlines. Carriers like Qantas have curtailed flights, changing aircraft type on long-haul routes, and a fuel surcharge of up to 20% have been added to tickets. Most Asian airlines are adding fuel charges only to new tickets, and the increase will not affect the price of pre-sold tickets issued for April and May.

Fuel price shock hits Nepal aviation

<a href="https://www.triarchypress.net/michael-thompson.html" target="_blank">Michael Thompson</a>, who died on 18 March after suffering a stroke a few weeks earlier, was a former Gurkha officer, mountaineer, and <a href="https://soscbaha.org/lecture-series/cultural-theory-and-clumsiness-some-lessons-from-nepal/" target="_blank">founding pillar of Cultural Theory</a>.&nbsp;
His daughter Ursula said it was a peaceful end, Mike himself had asked to be taken off medical support after doctors said they could do no more.
Together with his PhD adviser, the late Mary Douglas and fellow PhD student Steve Rayner of Oxford’s Institute for Science, Innovation and Society, Mike chose to generalise from years of anthropological work—unlike other social anthropologists—to filter out common traits of human behaviour across time and space, and then to apply that to modern society and its conflicts.
Cultural Theory has also been used to explain water and energy conflicts in Nepal and California, seat belt and pension fund battles in Europe, the underlying social dynamics of kibbutz in Israel, and what Mike liked to call “argumentative technology assessment” plus much more.&nbsp;
Unlike other ‘descriptive’ social sciences, Cultural Theory is ‘interpretive' in its orientation, which makes many in the ‘descriptive tradition’ rather uneasy with its ‘uncomfortable knowledge’.
A classic example is the massive almost six-year exercise that resulted in the multi-country, multi-author 4-volume study Human Choice and Climate Change led by Steve Rayner and Elizabeth Malone for the US Department of Energy and the Pacific North-West Lab.
It was, and perhaps still is, the first time that the social sciences looked seriously into climate change. However, its insights and conclusions were uncomfortable enough for it to be ignored, and only Mike Hulme of the Tyndall Center covered it as a chapter in his book Why We Disagree About Climate Change a dozen years later.
During my various lectures around the world, I myself have found younger scholars in China, India, South Asia, South-East Asia, Africa and Latin America much more welcoming and open about Cultural Theory interpretations than in Europe or America.
Mike liked to say that his own work on Cultural Theory was initially conceptualised while <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3633" target="_blank">he was in Nepal climbing mountains</a>. He was part of the British expeditions on Annapurna’s South Face in 1970 and Everest Southwest Face in 1975.
Even while working on his PhD under Mary Douglas, which was published by Oxford University Press as Rubbish Theory: The Creation and Destruction of Value. Mary Douglas and others having done work on the Cultural Theory of everyday goods and consumption (including drinking), Mike’s Rubbish Theory showed how unwanted trash or scrap eventually became invaluable antique.&nbsp;
Unfortunately, OUP withdrew the book after its eminent economics professor-board member objected to the book showing the limitations of economics in explaining value.
When I asked his wife Anne why Mike was not republishing it, she said it was probably because he is practicing what he preaches, hoping to see if that book can transit from discarded ‘waste’ to achieve ‘antique value’. &nbsp;It did, and was being put up on Amazon for an astronomical sum until Pluto Press republished it.&nbsp;
In line with Cultural Theory, which examines and explains everyday life, Mike’s sociology of mountaineering expeditions was published in Diadem Books’ Mirrors in the Cliffs in 1983 as a hilarious but astute piece titled Sahibs and Sherpas.
I first met Mike in April 1986 at the now famous <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/in-memoriam-jack-d-ives-1931-2024-rqpsk7eh" target="_blank">Mohonk Mountain Conference</a> in upstate New York, the conference with most of the world’s eminent mountain experts which resulted in a major scientific paradigm shift – the debunking of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1211" target="_blank">Theory of Himalayan Degradation</a>.&nbsp;
It resulted in the book <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Sustainable-Mountain-Development-Getting-the-Facts-Right-Jack-D-Ives,946" target="_blank">Uncertainty on a Himalayan Scale</a> (with Warburton and Hatley), which was republished in 2007 by Himal book with a long updating foreword by Mike and me.
Our collaboration continued across many centres in the US and Europe starting with San Diego’s Western Behaviourial Sciences Institute in 1989/90 where I first met Mary Douglas and Steve Rayner (and became the first person in Nepal to tele-conference via landline phone connected to San Diego’s computer system).&nbsp;
We continued on to Battelle Pacific Northwest National Lab in Washington state that resulted in the monumental 4-volume Human Choice and Climate Change, and involved work with Oxford’s James Martin Institute for Science and Civilization, King’s College London, LOS Center in Bergen, places in Germany and very much at the <a href="https://iiasa.ac.at/options-magazine/summer-2022/people-profile-from-everest-to-systems-analysis" target="_blank">International Institute for Applied Systems Analysis (IIASA/Laxenburg)</a> since the early 1990s.&nbsp;
During forays to Europe and transits through London, I often stayed with Mike and Anne at their London Highbury-Islington house and later in Bath when he moved there. Incidentally, they had bought the London house rather cheap before its gentrification (their neighbour was a school where Tony Blair’s young children studied).
Between <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4675" target="_blank">mountaineering </a>and Cultural Theory, Mike worked as a builder, and he single-handedly retrofitted their London home, which he later sold to buy a much bigger and better house in Bath with money to spare as retirement fund.
The idea of what was good versus bad development in the Himalaya from a perspective was further developed as an IIASA/Oxford Science and Society research resulting in our 2017 book Aid, Technology and Development: the Lessons from Nepal.&nbsp;
While he was in Nepal for that research, we did manage to get him to deliver a <a href="https://soscbaha.org/lecture-series/cultural-theory-and-clumsiness-some-lessons-%20from-nepal/" target="_blank">Social Science Baha</a> lecture on the book’s essence, <a href="https://soscbaha.org/lecture-series/cultural-theory-and-clumsiness-some-lessons-from-nepal/" target="_blank">Cultural Theory and Clumsiness: Some Lessons from Nepal</a>.&nbsp;
Sometimes our collective writings came from discussions in the strangest of ways and places. After a long meeting at the IIASA schloss, we ended up in a pub for beer, and the discussions were around what it would take for a city to be a force for good and not one bad for the environment.&nbsp;
If such a city could be designed, one could plonk it on the middle of a degraded landscape, which theoretically should then heal itself. Someone less inebriated obviously took notes and circulated it, which eventually resulted in the Engineering Sustainability paper On Governance for Re-engineering City Infrastructure.
Another time, I had to give a keynote presentation at an IIED/Sussex STEPs Center dialogue in London’s Goodenough College on re-imagining Development in LDCs. Following that talk, we sat down and produced our Restoring Development Dharma with Toad’s Eye Science.
Just before Covid struck, we (including Bruce Beck and Joanne Linnerooth-Bayer from IIASA) had been working on a Cultural Theory examination of four schools of engineering thought, our last meeting was at Steve Rayner’s Keeble College in Oxford as part of that exercise.&nbsp;
Its earlier efforts were explored in our work on transboundary risk management in the Himalaya at Bergen’s LOS Center and also dealt with in a chapter in EARTHSCAN’s IIASA publication Transboundary Risk Management edited by Joanne and others.&nbsp;
It argued that risk is socially constructed in four distinctly varied ways, where facts and values are entangled, leading to competing technological preferences. Mike desperately wanted to follow up on the Keeble meeting at IIASA, but – given the Covid fears already underway – Anne put her foot down and had him quarantined at home.
Our other on-going effort was, given that IIASA was founded during the Cold War as a place for scientists of the Euro-American West and the Communist East to work together to build confidence for peace, but after the collapse of the Berlin Wall that division (hence raison d’etre) no longer existed – to develop a global North-South axis for IIASA’s work.&nbsp;
We believed that was where the great challenges of tomorrow development debates as well as environmental concerns (including climate change) would play out. Towards that end, he was working with a range of Global South scholars and was very anxious to see if an IIASA-Nepal Social Science Baha/South Asia Institute for History and Philosophy collaboration could be developed.&nbsp;
Mike retained interest in Nepal’s developments up to his very end, even when on hospital bed, asking his daughter to find out from me what was going on with Nepal’s March elections that saw a seismic upheaval which decimated all the old political parties.&nbsp;
When Ursula described the gist to him, I am sure he was inwardly pleased that it vindicated Cultural Theory as Political Science’s contention that moral high ground activist egalitarianism not given proper place at the policy table can strike back at insensitive bureaucratic hierarchism and market individualism’s crony capitalism with swift and lethal vengeance.
Michael Thompson’s physical presence will be greatly missed, but his impact on interpretive social science – and its extremely relevant application to Nepal’s and other LDC’s developmental conflicts – will live on.
Dipak Gyawali is an energy economist with the Nepal Academy of Science and Technology (NAST). He is a former minister of water resources.&nbsp;
To listen to Michael Thomson’s lecture at Social Science Baha in 2011 <a href="https://soscbaha.org/lecture-series/cultural-theory-and-clumsiness-some-lessons-from-nepal/" target="_blank">click here.</a>

Michael Thompson, 89

Along with the Sherpa community, it is perhaps Kathmandu Valley’s Newāh Civilization that has been the most studied by anthropologists, architects, historians and social scientists.&nbsp; Tomes have been written about the built environment of the Valley’s former kingdoms, the influence of Indian culture, and how it in turn inspired the temples, monasteries and monuments in Tibet, through China right up to Korea and Japan. Lately, there has also been an attempt to recognise and preserve not just the brick and mortar landscape of Kathmandu, but also the intangible heritage of the Newāh people. A critical component of the ancient festivals in the streets, alleys and baha of the inner cities are ritual plays and dance. Gérard Toffin is a social anthropologist with the Centre d’Etudes Himalayennes at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS) in France, and has been researching in the region since the early 1970s, focusing on Newāh society and especially its Jyapu farmers. Lately, his work has focused on indigenous theatrical performances, and how they are evolving with modern influences.&nbsp; RECORDING RITUALS The result of his study is this hefty ethnographic book, Newar Theatrical Performances: Religious, Royal and Comic Aspects, delving into sacred performances. This is the first-ever detailed documentation of the minutest aspects of traditional plays and holy ceremonies of Kathmandu Valley. This book is not for the package tourist on a quick walkabout of Patan, the details and terminology can be daunting even for natives to navigate. But this is what social science research is supposed to do – take a deep dive into cultures that we take for granted either because we are a part of it, or because we have never bothered to find out its meaning.&nbsp; Dance forms with mythological themes, masked processions, gestures, facial expressions of the performers, have all been passed down from one generation to the next, adhering to age-old codes. The world is moving at an accelerated pace because of TikTok-induced globalised connectivity, but traditional gender or caste dynamics and hierarchies are carried over intact in many of these performances. It is as if traditional theatre itself is a time capsule giving us a peep into the past. Some of the performances and dance are in danger of going extinct as the population ages and the young migrate out. However, there has been a cultural renaissance among the Newāh guthi overseeing these ritual plays, dances, or chariot processions. The next generation of apprentices are being trained. This pride in heritage means that Kathmandu Valley civilization is not as endangered as it may appear.&nbsp; Gérard Toffin’s book is an important ethnographic work that will help preserve the Nepal Valley’s unique blend of urban-rural, cosmopolitan-agricultural, Hindu-Buddhist, indigenous-national. The Tantric choreography of Newāh theatre, just as the kama sutra depictions on erotic temple art, show Indian influence, but Toffin says they have been ‘Newarized’.&nbsp; One example is the sexually-explicit shadow play staged every year since 1690 CE by Jhyalcha Guthi in Patan that exposes the infidelity of King Yog Narendra Malla. Toffin devotes a whole last section of his book to irreverent plays (khyalah) that ridiculed the rich and powerful, the royals and upper castes and their shenanigans.&nbsp; He examines the importance of comic relief at a time when death was ever-present in historic Kathmandu with its frequent epidemics. One cholera outbreak in 1885 is estimated to have killed 10,000 people – a fifth of Kathmandu’s population at the time.&nbsp; The Saparu festival in Kathmandu and Mataya in Patan memorialised through street processions those who had died the previous year – and this was institutionalised into Gai Jatra by King Pratap Malla in the 17th century to console his queen after their second son was killed by an elephant. Families were asked to file past the palace to show the queen that she was not the only one grieving.&nbsp; Pratap Malla also allowed clowns, burlesque plays, and satirists to make the queen laugh. The Rana and Shah regimes which suppressed free speech continued the Gai Jatra tradition to allow citizens to let off steam. Rulers were lampooned, and the performances involved scatological jokes, cross-dressing and lewd acts.&nbsp; Interestingly, the Nepal Bhasa word ‘pyakha’ means both ‘dance’ and ‘theatre’ (today also ‘cinema’, as Toffin notes) and so the performances were also a combination of ritual dance, traditional music and a stage play. Stories involve gods, goddesses and mythological characters, and are passed down through generations of performers. (See adjoining article on Pāhāñ Charey.) Street performances by masked dancers, like in the ‘Katti Pyakha’ in Patan, enact divine themes. The moving deities demand as much reverence as their static idols in the inner sanctum of temples. The book devotes a whole section to the importance of cultic masked dances where the performer is possessed by the spirit, and goes into a trembling trance.&nbsp; Some of this is now simplified and secularised into performances for tourists in hotels, but the genuine original masked dance troupes still parade down the streets, proving that ancient and modern are made to co-evolve in ways that only Kathmandu knows how.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260329140352_aace3ece2e2cc577aa478d83de4b34930e6ff9c088d5f5e3f02fa178d124a60d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260329140352_aace3ece2e2cc577aa478d83de4b34930e6ff9c088d5f5e3f02fa178d124a60d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Newa theatre book details NT"> </figure>

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