Last year, under a scorching September sun, Jupiter Ghimire, 30, took a few minutes off from his food delivery work in Qatar's oppressive heat to scroll through Facebook. His feed was full of news of a devastating <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/disasters-in-nepal-come-in-waves">flood and landslides in Nepal</a>. Suddenly, he froze: one news item mentioned that among the worst hit was Gotikhel, his home village in Lalitpur. Panic gripped him as he frantically dialled home, but the phones were down. The news was all bad: floods had ravaged Kavre and Lalitpur, killing 217 people. Ghimire’s heart sank as he saw familiar names and places.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/avoiding-the-quicksand-of-social-media">Social media</a> became both a lifeline and a source of torment, as video updates streamed in about the rising death toll. About 40 people were dead or missing in the Gotikhel area, and Ghimire knew most of those who perished. &nbsp; “There were names of people I grew up with,” he recalls. For three agonising days, he was in the dark about his family, consumed by fear for his loved ones, especially his 11-year-old daughter. Ghimire finally learned that his family had survived. But the flood had swept away their farm, and part of their home. He did not go home for Dasain last year to save money to rebuild the house. He isn't going this year either. As <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon">the monsoon rains</a> lash Nepal again, nearly a year after the 2024 disaster, Ghimire and other Nepalis here worry about another flood threatening their families, homes, crops, and livestock.&nbsp; Added to that is more recent worry of the Israel-Iran conflict spilling over to Qatar, as it did recently when <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/world-wars">Iran fired missiles </a>at a US military base in Doha.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090732_0ac5f98d06311a732200ebc74048f7561a575f7a1626adb5608c002b2fdceb45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250703090732_0ac5f98d06311a732200ebc74048f7561a575f7a1626adb5608c002b2fdceb45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="All shaken up while abroad"> </figure>  Ghimire’s life <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dying-to-work-overseas">working overseas</a> had begun with another disaster: the 2015 earthquake that killed nearly 9,000 people. He left for Malaysia and stayed there for three years to make enough money to start a new life back home. After returning to Nepal, he invested his savings in a small canteen to support his family. But business faltered, and before long Ghimire was forced to leave once again, this time to Qatar where he has worked for the past seven years. “If there were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">opportunities in Nepal</a>, who would want to leave their families behind and live in the heat and solitude of the desert?” he asks, in between sips of Nepali-style milk tea in a street cafe. Tirtha Gautam, another worker in Qatar, got a call on the morning of 28 September last year that turned his world upside down. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi">The flood on the Rosi Khola</a> had ravaged his family’s home in Kavre, destroying their farm and ready-to-harvest paddy crop. “I couldn’t believe that this time it was happening to me,” Gautam says, recalling earlier misfortunes that had befallen families of other Nepalis in Doha.&nbsp; Gautam clung to fleeting moments of connection with home, often parking his bus near buildings with free wi-fi during breaks to check in on news from Nepal. Tragedies in his homeland have always been a source of sorrow, but this time it was deeply personal. “I was devastated, but also furious,” says Gautam, who is critical of the government’s slow response even one year later <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/disastrous-management-in-nepal">to the disaster</a>. “During these times, I wish I could help or donate, but with my little salary, do I look after my family or help my community?” Gautam was working as a driver in Kathmandu when he left Nepal in 2012, hoping to work a few years and come back with enough savings to buy his own vehicle. Twelve years later, at 34, he is still in Qatar.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/qatari-leader-in-nepal-reminded-of-workers-rights?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR0l_fMqYTlSQbmaZMOELuQic7PgyMEfsIJW_Xb42moieMmhah2TJoz29Gc_aem_AWqS-zjxJskZi_EQXVJQBY3JxQNCN5dgcFs4b6iHihggyCN-UoG5MNz1fmx88IOZEWQwK8Vy_h5cJkmVpm1ejS3F">Qatari leader in Nepal reminded of workers’ rights</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090732_570fff33ac8380c9689e7115d51e4dbe2edb81e8a5e12fca22e1d677fe1b24a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250703090732_570fff33ac8380c9689e7115d51e4dbe2edb81e8a5e12fca22e1d677fe1b24a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="All shaken up while abroad"> </figure>  He is married with two children, but the distance from family weighs heavily in his mind. His second son was born just two days before this interview. Gautam embraced the joy through a video call, but had to cut it short to return to work. “I want to go back to Nepal and be with my family and my new son,” Gautam says. “I am done living here.” Yet for workers like Gautam and Ghimire, that is easier said than done. Each disaster, natural or economic, forces them to extend their time abroad indefinitely. “I am not staying here by choice but compulsion,” adds Gautam, who has<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/digital-diaspora-dasain-for-nepalis"> not gone home for Dasain</a> for the past 12 years that he has been in Qatar. “My parents get very upset every time they hear I can’t come home.” Gautam does visit Nepal every two years, but feels like a stranger. “There is a stigma about working in Khadi,” he says, using the Nepali term for the Gulf. “People who go to the US or<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-long-way-to-europe"> Europe </a>are held in higher regard.” Despite sending money to Nepal that keeps the country's economy and their own households afloat, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/die-first-get-paid-later?%2F">migrant workers</a> are sometimes met with subtle disdain.&nbsp; This unspoken rejection deepens a sense of alienation, since most workers sacrifice time with family and children to earn enough to support their folks in Nepal.&nbsp; “To truly belong, I’d need to be home, surrounded by my family and culture,” Gautam tells us. “But economic reality keeps me here, away from everything that makes me feel Nepali.” &nbsp; <h2>Diaspora disaster response</h2> For professional migrants in the West with resources and opportunities, the focus tends to be on organised <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/it-better-be-better-next-time">aid and advocacy</a> in times when Nepal suffers disasters. But for economic migrants in the Gulf or Malaysia, challenges of daily survival limit their ability to help.&nbsp; Yet, there is a collective will to support Nepal in times of need. As<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-geopolitics-of-nepal-s-politics"> political instability</a> and economic challenges persist, the government must find ways to mobilise this emotional attachment in the diaspora. Disasters, upheavals, and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/poor-cash-rich-nepal"> economic turmoil in Nepal </a>often spark fervent discussions when Nepalis abroad meet up. The conversations highlight both the ways <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-disaster-strikes-home">the diaspora strives to help the homeland</a>, and the helplessness felt by many.&nbsp; In the aftermath of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">the 2015 earthquake</a>, the 2020-21 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lockdown-5-utlzqtvs">Covid lockdowns</a>, and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/60-dead-64-missing-in-nepal-floods">2024 floods</a>, donation and advocacy campaigns emerged spontaneously in the diaspora.&nbsp; Nepal Rising’s Fill the Bucket campaign after 2024 floods, for example, raised $7,000 through global donations, targeting both international and Nepali migrants. For a donation of just $40, a family of four received essential food, sanitation, and medical supplies in Nepal.&nbsp; The campaign gained significant traction on social media, with hundreds of shares worldwide. &nbsp;&nbsp; “It’s an emotional response,” says Preeti Pandey Adhikary of The Great Nepali Diaspora (TGND). “Whenever a disaster strikes, everyone is incredibly generous with their donations.”&nbsp; She adds: “The perception in Nepal used to be more dismissive but there is a growing interest in diaspora and its power to create impact for Nepal.” TGND fosters collaboration within the Nepali professional diaspora to bridge this divide. She rejects the term “brain drain,” arguing that geographical distance doesn’t diminish the ability to contribute meaningfully to the home country. “Nepali identity is fluid,” says Adhikary who has since started a venture called Momo VC that looks at alternative sources of capital for Nepali entrepreneurs beyond grants and donations by engaging the diaspora. “Whether you live in Europe, the US, or Asia, you can adopt new homes while still retaining your Nepaliness.” This fluid identity has enabled professional migrants to reconnect with Nepal in innovative ways, from volunteering to establishing impactful projects.&nbsp; Connectivity through phone apps is a lifeline. These donations are a reaction to disaster, but do not help with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/disastrous-preparedness">preparedness and prevention</a>.&nbsp; Says Adhikary: “There’s a lot of excitement, optimism, and a sense of empowerment. There is growing collaboration and active engagement within the diaspora as well as an evolving sense of national identity and responsibility.”

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All shaken up while abroad

This is the 66th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, and studying abroad. <h2>Siya Sada&nbsp;</h2> My husband never gets on cars or buses on his own. I cannot even imagine him flying on a plane by himself. His phobia of travel is very strong. Which is why unlike many men here in Janakpur, he never migrated.&nbsp; Instead, I sent my son to Saudi Arabia and Qatar, but both times he returned before his contract was up, with outstanding recruitment loans of Rs400,000.&nbsp; I had also taken additional loans for my daughter’s wedding. Heavily in debt, and frustrated with constant calls from the money lender, I decided to go overseas myself.&nbsp; There were other women I knew who had migrated to work as domestic workers in the Gulf and sent money home, so I decided to do the same. I did not tell anyone that I was migrating until the last minute.&nbsp; I had disappeared for 11 days in Kathmandu getting my documents ready, and my husband had gone around the village frantically looking for me with my father. I only informed them about my decision before my flight and ignored pleas from family not to leave.&nbsp; After our plane took off from Kathmandu to Kuwait, I enjoyed looking out of the window as we flew higher and higher. I worked there for six years.&nbsp; The first employer was mean spirited and terrible. She had a mischievous चकचके son whom I had difficulty taking care of. She expected me to carry his heavy toy car down four flights of stairs on my head for him to drive. This was just too much. She did not care whether I ate or not. After two years, I moved to a new family which was much nicer and treated me like family. The work was lighter because the children were all grown up and there was more consideration of my time to sleep, eat and work.&nbsp; There were no disagreements like with the previous employer, and I did as I was told उठ भने उठ, बस भने भस. The arrangement in that joint family was that each had their own domestic worker.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250501140524_cefaa6e60345191a95e702b387fea36a5b760b93a5f6d08ea89e9c3b3bf94388" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 65"> <figcaption>Siya Sada</figcaption> </figure>  We shared a room with an Ethiopian, Filipino and fellow Nepali. We had a strong bond between us, and we communicated with each other in Arabic which I had already picked up.&nbsp; In a foreign land, every day was a day closer to pay day. We would wait impatiently and count our fingers. I earned money, and I sent everything home to my family back in Nepal: “मैले कमाउने, परिवारले गन्ने”.&nbsp; I had plans to stay in Kuwait for 10 years but had to come back after six when I fell sick. I broke down when leaving, as I had become attached to the family I worked for.&nbsp; They bought me parting gifts like a watch, blanket, flashlight. I handed over my job to another Nepali domestic worker from Sunsari whom I trained before returning. I had managed to pay off my loans with my earnings in Kuwait, and had enough left over to buy some land and marry off my son. But since my stay was cut short, I could not manage to build a house.&nbsp; No other woman from my neighbourhood in Janakpur has migrated overseas that I am aware of. It is only men who migrate from around here.&nbsp; Perhaps I too would not have migrated if my husband had gone overseas, and my son had not returned. In addition to freeing myself from loan sharks, going overseas also widened my mind and horizon. If I had just stayed here in Nepal I would not have achieved as much, my loans would still have been unpaid. Life is back to normal now in Nepal. I am back to washing clothes with my hands and getting water from the well. I wish we could have brought back appliances like washing machines, rice cookers and vacuum cleaners but they are not practical here.&nbsp; Here, even when we leave the lights on for too long we have to worry about the electricity bill. How can we afford anything more ? I don’t even use the iron and hair dryer that I brought back. <h2>Gulbandan Devi Sada&nbsp;</h2> I spent three years and three months in Saudi Arabia and almost six years in Kuwait. It has been five years since I returned.&nbsp; My aunt-in-law had gone overseas, and I also wanted to go abroad to pay the medical bills of my sick husband and support four children. My husband supported my decision saying fate would determine if he would live or not, but we had to take care of our children.&nbsp; I traveled through India where the agent made us wait for a month. My husband died the day before my flight to Saudi Arabia. Everyone told me to continue with my journey as my husband would not return and my children needed to be taken care of. I went, and it took me a year to learn Arabic. Me and my employers relied on sign language and hand gestures to communicate with each other. It was not easy by any means.&nbsp; My employer taught me how to run the washing machine, iron and to cook as per their liking, after which she left things in my hands. Initially, I burnt clothes while ironing, broke the washing machine and my employer threatened to deduct the cost from my wages, but she thankfully did not do it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250501140524_8d09bf4a54f9e844829543d822d05e67832f51c8f2b20a9cab20a4d154525fdf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 66"> <figcaption>Gulbandan Devi Sada</figcaption> </figure>  But I found out my employer made money off of me by sending me to work at other people’s homes. I did not enjoy my stay there as she was किचकिचे demanding. I used to miss my children while taking care of her children who were of similar age. I had left them with my late mother.&nbsp; When I took care of children overseas, I had to be more cautious than with my own back home since the consequences would be severe if they fell down and got hurt while running around. With my savings, I bought land here, got my brother married and did a big puja. After a few months in Nepal, I went to Kuwait to work. This time, the experience was easier because I spoke Arabic and had gathered experience. But even there, I had to change two employers as I did not have a good experience with the families. The third house I worked in was better, and I stayed with them.&nbsp; Back home I built a house with my earnings, and married off my daughter. Although I wanted to stay longer, I decided to return because I had health issues. I worry about old age and the need to have savings, and even consider migrating sometimes. My only hope now is my children. When I returned to Nepal, my Kuwaiti employer kept calling me saying I should return because the children missed me. But I have my own children to focus on now.&nbsp;

Every day is closer to pay day

The Korea Employment Permit Scheme (<a href="https://documents1.worldbank.org/curated/en/684731537420880821/pdf/130020-P156586-Korea-report-F-singles-web.pdf">EPS</a>) is one of the most sought-after bilateral labour mobility programs for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-long-way-to-europe">Nepali workers</a>.&nbsp;
Many prospective workers prepare hard for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/ielts-on-screen">language tests </a>like their “life depended on it” or “like studying for the civil service exam”. EPS is not just <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/On-the-way-up/Still-silently-crying,1060">survival migration</a>, but one that is financially rewarding.
One worker said migrants <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">referred</a> to the Korean Dream as दुई गुणा अन्ठाउन्न — referring to the Rs200,000 monthly salary over a 58-month period, a transformative amount.&nbsp;
“Anyhow, कोरिया जौँ,” was a popular slogan while cramming for the language exams (Read Diaspora Diaries, across). South Korea has also benefited from foreign workers, and the rapidly aging nation will continue to rely on expanding its foreign worker intake to offset its <a href="https://www.piie.com/publications/working-papers/2024/migration-or-stagnation-aging-and-economic-growth-korea-today">demographic drag</a>.
A recent entrepreneurship <a href="https://www.facebook.com/share/p/15VemgEV6W/">initiative</a> targeting current and former <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepal-s-migrant-workers">Nepali migrants </a>in Korea funded by <a href="https://www.koica.go.kr/sites/nepal_en/index.do">KOICA</a> and implemented by the group <a href="https://en.thebridgeint.com/en/">Bridge International</a>, demonstrates how the Returnee Innovator for Nepal (RIN) program can be made even more rewarding by maximising not just financial, but also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-just-financial-but-social-remittances">social remittances</a>.
The program is unique because the support begins not once workers arrive in Nepal, but in Korea itself. Selected candidates attend classes on basic <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-entrepreneur-turns-trash-into-cash">entrepreneurship</a> while in Korea and to work on their<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/hurdles-come-with-the-terrain-in-nepal-s-fashion-industry"> business ideas </a>which they can further 'localise' once back in Nepal.
They also get linked to mentors from Korea-based companies from their area of interest to brainstorm, refine ideas, and get practical real-world guidance. In some cases, these can grow into business ties.
Santosh Timalsina runs a successful coffee machine repair business Jumli Cafe in Pokhara, and was connected by Bridge International with a Korea-based coffee entrepreneur who trained him. Even though his EPS jobs entailed making golf balls or car parts, he took advantage of whatever free time he had to prepare for return by taking up coffee machine repair.&nbsp;
“Even now I rely on my Korean trainer for guidance and to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal,” says Timalsina.
CEO of Bridge International Jinsol Hwang says the next cohorts will also be provided the option of using business plans that Korean entrepreneurs may have for those workers who are unsure about what to invest in once they are back.
The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-plans-to-reintegrate-returning-workers">returnee program</a> is in its early phases, and has just called for the second cohort, but demonstrates that labour mobility programs can be made more impactful. The return stage also merits as much attention, including from host country agencies like KOICA, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-moves-from-aid-to-enterprise">social enterprises </a>and even employers.&nbsp;
Jinsol says migration was part of Korea’s growth story in the 1970s with workers headed to West Germany as miners and nurses and to the Middle East as construction workers. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/nepal-s-remittance-villages">remittances </a>and skills acquired abroad were critical in Korea's transformation.
The role of returnees as entrepreneurs in creating jobs and contributing to the economy was a way to level the playing field. It provided access to capital, networks and skills they may not have otherwise had.
The second winning team at the recent Returnee Innovators Showcase of the RIN program was Hankook Meat Mart. It is a profitable effort by three Korea returnees to provide high quality meat products that they source from another Korean returnee who runs a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">pig farm</a>.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-korea-s-prosperity-to-nepal">Bringing Korea’s prosperity to Nepal</a>
The approach is to build a supply chain using high quality <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/meat-money-and-the-middle-class">meat production</a>, and diversifying to small complementary businesses such as a tiny but profitable Korean restaurant, and small factories making Kimchi and rice-cakes.&nbsp;
Dil Bahadur Tamang from Hankook successfully pitched his business, saying programs like RIN are useful to learn formal business management practices, for networking and exposure. The financial award it won was helpful for business expansion as it launches a second branch.&nbsp;
“Those of us who go to work in Korea are not from a business background, so the switch from an employee to becoming self-employed is difficult especially in a country like ours,” Tamang says. “Start-up failure rates are high globally, if we don’t understand the market and launch businesses without proper preparation, the chances of failure will be high and we lose our hard-earned money.”
There are returnees who rush to businesses and subsequently fail. In the <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uR6pzwfR91KAezRODgDIz2FWI6m2xjPL/view">Diaspora Diaries series</a> in this newspaper, one consistent advice, based on their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">own failures</a> in some cases, has always been to take time just to understand Nepal's market before rushing into a business even if it is a sector they have years of overseas experience in.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal</a>, Mahesh Sah
The decision ‘to return to Nepal or remain overseas’ for current migrants is perhaps tougher than the decision youth face to ‘migrate or stay in Nepal’. Migrants with the intention to return, whether by choice as they have stayed overseas enough, or because their contracts are ending, need more support with developing their plans back home.&nbsp;
This includes workers from the Middle East and Malaysia who inevitably return, not just EPS workers from Korea. In the Philippines, the Technical Education and Skills Development (<a href="https://www.tesda.gov.ph/">TESDA</a>), offers an <a href="https://e-tesda.gov.ph/course/index.php?categoryid=467">online</a> self-based business entrepreneurship program targeting current overseas Filipinos.&nbsp;
Such resources would also be useful for<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times"> Nepali migrants</a> who are trying to decide whether to return and what to do after returning. &nbsp;
Upasana Khadka heads <a href="https://www.migration-lab.com/">Migration Lab</a>, a social enterprise aimed at making migration outcomes better for workers and their families. Labour Mobility is a regular column in Nepali Times.

Upasana Khadka

Social remittance

This is the 60th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> I come from a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-class-divide-widens">middle-class family</a>, and my father did all he could to make sure we had a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality">proper education</a>. I really wanted to be an engineer, but was not that good in studies and my father could not afford to pay for college. So I joined Korean language classes instead. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/long-wait-over-nepalis-return-to-korea">In Korea</a>, I was blown away by the infrastructure and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/development-destruction-yt3t1yhu">development</a>. But once I entered my company premises, it was a different story. It was a smelly place with piles of trash.&nbsp; This was not the standard ‘foreign company’ of my imagination. I had been placed with a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/everest-garbage-caravan">plastic recycling</a> company, and worked three years there before it went bankrupt. I switched to a welding company. Korea taught me the value of work and time, and more importantly, just how much of a difference being within a system can make. &nbsp; <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> I randomly came across an acquaintance who was a Korea returnee and jokingly told him that I also wanted to go. He talked about a new Government-to-Government (G2G) scheme called EPS, and told me I should give it a shot. It would be cheaper and more rewarding, but I had to pass a language test. My first <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">job in Korea</a> was drying animal leather, but a year later I moved to a plastic company before returning to Nepal to start my own <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/biodegradable-plastic-launched-in-nepal">plastic manufacturing </a>venture with Shahadev.&nbsp; Despite having skills and experience, I quickly realised that it was difficult to remain competitive with 18 hours of daily power cuts. We were afraid of losing our <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-retail-to-selling-chiya?fbclid=IwAR3lAnpyoOKTvyb9ekXulEcPzzZCfBmLYLZq950Bv6ElccPHVPM2175ABeI">hard earned money</a>.&nbsp; So Shahadev and I decided to remigrate and joined our previous company in Korea. This time, the thought of “नेपाल गएर के गर्ने?” kept gnawing at me. The skills and experience I acquired in Korea were not usable back home, where my heart was. &nbsp; I used to go to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-easy-for-nepal-to-buffalo-meat-to-china">meat</a> shop nearby, where the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, was nice to me. We used to chat, and I wondered if I could start something similar in Nepal: a well-organised meat shop.&nbsp; My friend and I started <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage">applying for jobs</a> in the meat sector. We wanted to work at a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees">pig farm</a>, but got jobs in a meat processing plant. <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> We were the first lot that went to Korea under the EPS scheme. Korea had a good image in our community, a place where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/let-s-listen-to-nepal-s-young-changemakers">young Nepalis</a> could make something of themselves.&nbsp; Prabin and I went on the same flight, we worked in the same plastic company, and changed to the same meat processing company. We thought it would be easy, and would be simply cutting meat like we did back home. But there everything had to be cut just right. It was a new experience and initially felt complicated. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/meat-money-and-the-middle-class">Meat, money, and the middle class</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250321040328_c7da4ee896e7fb140795e60e9b1b60a7e13446d9cd2914ed980071c4d5addcce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>BACK HOME: (Left to right) Dil Bahadur Tamang making a pitch at the RIN program. Prabin Shrestha at his shop in Nepal. Sahadev Gurung cutting meat surgically.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Our employer told us that he had started with nothing, and made a lot of money selling meat. With just a knife and focus on hygiene, you can do a lot if you put your mind to it, he used to tell us.&nbsp; It was like surgery. Every part mattered. Knowing that these skills could be an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-new-equaliser">investment back home</a>, we were keen to learn everything about cutting meat perfectly.&nbsp; After work, we used to take home the bones to assemble a skeleton so we could learn about all the parts. We would memorise the names and familiarise ourselves with the right angle of the knife to slice them with. We were so obsessed we learnt in 2.5 months what took others six months. Our employer gave us raises. <h2>Dil Bahadur Tamang</h2> After we <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/returning-to-nepal-has-its-rewards">returned to Nepal</a>, we started Hankook Meat Mart. I have known my co-founder Prabin Shrestha for 25 years, he is like family to me. We studied together, went to Korea together. Even before we left Nepal, we knew that we would one day run a business together. Returning from Korea, we studied the market for months before launching the business, visiting meat shops and talking to people.&nbsp; We learnt that oversupply of meat reduced the price and put quality farmers at a disadvantage. Even when we found cheaper suppliers, we set a floor price for our meat suppliers who were picked based on whether they fed the pigs proper feed and not waste, and if the animals were 6-8 months old.&nbsp; We also realised that pork meat parts are not separated but mashed together. Hygiene and quality also fluctuated. Consumers get good meat one day and the next day the same shop sold meat that was difficult even to chew.&nbsp; Imported meat was available, but costly. Our niche was going to be quality, premium meat.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250321040328_90757fa0c57e4e8254e764f556f528d382a0b4e8cb75caa3fe0a2cb52c8e77ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Bringing Korea's prosperity to Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Hankook Meat Mart stood second in the Returnee Innovators Showcase that was organised by The Bridge International and funded by KOICA.</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Shahadev Gurung</h2> The three of us work well together even after all these years. There is a strong trust between us. Each of us individually carry out our duties well. That I think is what has worked for us to help us endure this long partnership. The skills we learnt in Korea have stayed with us, and we are still reaping the benefits. Current EPS workers engaged in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal">agriculture sector </a>can benefit here as the skills can be used, but you have to be willing to work hard in Nepal just like you do <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/grass-is-greener-overseas-for-nepals-doctors">overseas</a>.&nbsp; You cannot slow down just because you are in Nepal. It is also helpful to think about your return while overseas, that makes transitioning to Nepal much easier. <h2>Prabin Shrestha</h2> Korea for me was like a university where I learnt a lot. When I came home, my suitcase was full of knives, aprons for meat processing.&nbsp; There are so many things that we can learn <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">overseas</a>, small things that would make our lives easier here. All I learnt was to cut meat. But we have created jobs for 30-40 people, while being close to family. We don’t have to dream very big. I enjoy working in Nepal. I saw many cottage industries that started small in Korea that I found inspiring so we bring machines from Korea and run shops that &nbsp;make rice cakes and kimchi. We are opening a new branch, and a small Korean restaurant. My former boss who visited us in Nepal is thrilled with our progress and even gifted us a meat slicer. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal</a>, Mahesh Sah Working in Nepal is not always easy, of course, the trick is to try to find happiness even in those tough moments. That makes life easier. This kind of hustle can scare some people and dissuade many but we have to build the appetite for it because one day, these experiences will become part of our story, our journey. &nbsp;

Bringing Korea’s prosperity to Nepal

I was born in Mumbai where my father worked as a watchman. When I was just four years old, my parents decided that it would be best if my mother went back to our home district of Achham in Nepal to take care of our house and farm. And off she went with my one-year-old brother. In her absence, we lived close to his workplace. He worked shifts, and was not always home when I returned from school. I learnt to cook for both of us at a young age, even though I do not consider myself a good cook.&nbsp; From childhood, I had this innate sense of responsibility and completed my homework or rote-learned for exams even when I was not under parental watch.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_2a8ae15dc440b94aff7a6146e7ce457bb21376cbd206d1ff503e9f83ea2a4334.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241101221140_2a8ae15dc440b94aff7a6146e7ce457bb21376cbd206d1ff503e9f83ea2a4334" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> <figcaption>Bishwokarma was married at 15 to a 13-year-old girl also from Achham who, like him, was also born and raised in Mumbai.</figcaption> </figure>  Growing up around Nepali families in the neighbourhood, I picked up Nepali. Not having a mother figure around, I did not really know what I missed as it had always been that way. My mother and I communicated in letters that were about a paragraph-long without much substance other than basic pleasantries and updates from school. I was more accustomed to my father, with whom I shared a special bond. I married young at 15 to a 13-year old girl who was also born in Mumbai to migrants from Achham. My mother came to my wedding and it was the first time we met after she had left over a decade ago. My mother returned with my wife to Achham where my city grown wife learnt how to do village household chores. Unsurprisingly, she did not like it, but she stayed on for two years. While she was trained by my mother in Achham, I was continuing my school in Mumbai.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_dbb23b8a76397c7cd7b9b640455a6d0b274d7411e91032a34d118a33d1ac0069.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241101221140_dbb23b8a76397c7cd7b9b640455a6d0b274d7411e91032a34d118a33d1ac0069" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  After my wedding, I went to Achham for the first time ever. With no mental image of what it would look like, I did not know what to expect. Life in Nepal took some getting used to but with the visits I grew attached to Nepal and I got familiar with Nepali songs and movies via YouTube. My father eventually moved back to Nepal. My mother needed more help around the house to tend the fields. By then, I had settled down in Mumbai with my wife and four children and worked as a watchman, just like my father. My now-jobless father now depended on me. This put more financial pressure on me. I used to enjoy playing cricket growing up. But when household responsibilities start weighing on you from a young age, there is no space in life for hobbies and passions. By the time I was of age to discover and nurture my interests, I was already worrying about raising my children well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_0ccd2cd0e243a5124f13047a2d7caad5df462b2e396745b0381393e385b76301.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241101221140_0ccd2cd0e243a5124f13047a2d7caad5df462b2e396745b0381393e385b76301" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  Life in Mumbai is fast-paced. Everyone is running around. My company closed down, and I lost my job. I then bought an autorickshaw, and my daily income varies between INR 700-1,500. I prefer this more than being a watchman, as there is more freedom. It is self-paced, and there is time to rest. There is no boss to order me around. My three sons work as a vegetable vendor, a real estate agent and a cinematographer, and my daughter is a nurse. They also take care of some of the household expenses. What I earn is just for my pocket money and to keep myself occupied. What would I do sitting around idly? If I had a traditional job, I would be retiring in three years after turning 60. But as an autorickshaw driver, there is no end at sight. I will retire when my body demands it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241101221140_2f370b6e52af5460cfd7b4a4761a557baef3a3b2158cfdaa5ac3bb0bdcd0065b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241101221140_2f370b6e52af5460cfd7b4a4761a557baef3a3b2158cfdaa5ac3bb0bdcd0065b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51 NT"> </figure>  I don’t interact much with my customers as I have to keep my eye on the road at all times. Mumbai traffic is bad. Sometimes, customers hail three-wheelers like mine when the cars they have booked online do not arrive on time because of traffic. They have meetings to attend or flights to catch, and they are thankful when I stop to pick them up.&nbsp; Other than that, the interactions are quite limited. Most customers are glued to their phones. Some even bring out their laptops. My job is to ensure they reach their destinations. Three years ago, I received a call from Achham about my father’s heart attack. I was arranging my travel to Nepal, but he passed away that night. I still went to Achham for his last rites, and I cannot describe how difficult it was to make that long journey alone while grieving my father’s loss. As I changed buses and trains across India, all I could think about was my father.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024110203118_3da6e8d233ba52600ae4902d65ba754436340d577e6fce5e3c91f39a507866c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024110203118_3da6e8d233ba52600ae4902d65ba754436340d577e6fce5e3c91f39a507866c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 51"> </figure>  We moved my mother to Gujarat where my brother works as a watchman as we did not want to leave her alone in Achham. Our house there is now empty.&nbsp; Just like I was close to my father who raised me, my brother is close to our mother. My brother and I have never spent more than a few days together because we were separated as children. I visit them in Gujarat once in a while. I have lived a simple and perhaps even a boring life. There have been enough hardships, but nothing that I have not been able to sort out on my own. I have not had to depend on others. God has been restrained in the way he sends me problems. We are all entangled in our own झमेला troubles. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. The previous 50 columns can be accessed in this <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uR6pzwfR91KAezRODgDIz2FWI6m2xjPL/view">ebook</a>. Watch video of Harka Lal Bishwokarma <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rusYgB9B3rs">here</a>. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rusYgB9B3rs?si=-E3SnyAv00I3ZUm1" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

“I have lived a simple, boring life”

Halucha is a carpenter living a happy life with his big family in Kathmandu’s Maru Hiti in the 1960s handcrafting chairs, tables and temple woodwork. He observes festivals of his Newa community including <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Yenya</a>, Indra Jatra, enjoys his favourite choila baji and with friends, and occasionally momocha. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/wine-and-women-during-yenya">Wine and women during Yenya</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_b1f8b03dc37e18d45a24c93422715ea0f6480b050683893d0fc5f3a8d6a290ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240914040936_b1f8b03dc37e18d45a24c93422715ea0f6480b050683893d0fc5f3a8d6a290ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1833" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT2"> </figure>  But then a big new furniture factory is set up nearby, which takes away the jobs of those with the ancestral occupation of carpentry. Halucha loses his customers.&nbsp; One thing leads to another and by the 1970s, Halucha travels to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-in-the-garden-of-england">England for work</a> after borrowing money at a high interest rate. London is rainy and dreary, he struggles with the language and at his job. He has no friends, people look at him differently and treat him poorly. He feels lonely and homesick. The isolation affects his <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-other-pandemic-mental-health">mental health</a> and before long, he loses his job and is homeless.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040952_5ff460d094ce67737cfcdf0bbf88edaadeffd58571806fe91bfc37a962d1390f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240914040952_5ff460d094ce67737cfcdf0bbf88edaadeffd58571806fe91bfc37a962d1390f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT3"> </figure>  Author Ojesh Singh weaves a layered tale that delves into the universal themes of migration, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/50-diaspora-diaries-in-nepali-times">diaspora</a>, mental health, racism, heritage and identity in simple, engaging storytelling style with vibrant illustrations by Sahanshil Dangol in the new Nepali children’s book, London Lakhey. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/brain-gain-into-brain-drain">Brain gain into brain drain</a>, Sonia Awale “Children are smarter than we give them credit for, they have genuine reactions and responses, and the earlier they are exposed to difficult emotions, the sooner they will learn to express them openly and grow up better able to deal with them,” says Dangol on some of the heavier themes underlying London Lakhey. Indeed, as children’s literature, the book does not shy away from difficult topics. This was a very conscious choice, says Singh, who himself went to England in 1999 and is now an aerospace engineer running two restaurants specialising in Newa cuisine in London. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/passing-the-baton-on">The Unstoppables</a>, Pratibha Tuladhar&nbsp; “The story is inspired by some of my own experience when I moved to England and that of people close to me, the not-so-easy beginning, the loneliness,” adds Singh, who is in Kathmandu to launch the book.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040956_bc4f28cd93c2b2c568d979707bc0d8a04f37e0fe519e1d8752f952b91a5fdea2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240914040956_bc4f28cd93c2b2c568d979707bc0d8a04f37e0fe519e1d8752f952b91a5fdea2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1141" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT"> </figure>  “The first thing we Nepalis seek abroad is a plate of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dal-bhat-power">warm dal bhat</a> and not getting that can be so hard, then there are our festivals, dance and music that we miss so much.” Singh had it relatively easy as his father was already in the UK. But even then, he had to support himself and for the first five years he studied by day, while working at a restaurant at night. Finally, he bought his own restaurant, and another one a few years later. He calls them “Nepali-Indian” restaurants but actually specialise in Newa food, the first of few in the London area. “I do a lot of work virtually so the restaurant for me is like a living room and it is as if I am cooking for my friends and family, it keeps me feeling alive,” says Singh, whose clan home is in Basantapur. He is actively involved in the Pasa Pucha Guthi in London as one of the founding member since its inception in 2000. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-in-the-garden-of-england">Nepalis in the Garden of England</a>, Joy Stephens The Newa-English community in London organises cultural events including performing the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-spirit-that-is-fire">Lakhey mask dance</a> during Mha Puja, also the Newari New Year. This real-life tradition in London serves as an inspiration for the book. “The new generation of Nepali diaspora should know the struggles of their parents, what they went through, some were asylum seekers, others came for better opportunities,” says Singh, stating how this was one of the ideas behind the book, especially as he is himself a father now. A mutual contact brought animator and illustrator Sahanshil Dangol onboard for the book, and the two would go on to work closely for the nearly two years it took for the volume to develop. Dangol works for London-based studios and was previously involved in making commercials and music videos for up-and- coming Nepali artists like Yugal Gurung and Ankit Shrestha.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/memories-of-a-london-nepali-hangout">Memories of a London Nepali hangout</a>, Sunil Pun But what really got him passionate about the book project was the Lakhey element. During his undergrad, Dangol was working on a film to document his cousin’s mask dances in Pokhara but had to shelve it. He has since come across the Nepali Creative Gang, an online collective of artists, writers, game developers, animators and others which helps young talent with guidance and feedback as well as protection for their work. Dangol went on to develop a 4-minute-long stop motion film called Death and Exposure but he always had the Lakhey project at the back of his mind. “It felt like a second chance to work on something close to my heart,” he told Nepali Times in a video interview from London. It also helped that the characters spoke to him. Having moved to London at 11 following his father who was in the army, Dangol never felt like he quite fit in, neither in London, nor in Kathmandu. “Growing up, I didn’t have Nepali friends, and in any case, I didn’t feel like I completely belonged anywhere, and while I didn’t go through everything that Halucha went through in the story, I could still resonate with the character and sympathise with him, it is a relatable story with so many of our friends and families migrating today.” Dangol based the physical attributes of Halucha and other characters on people around him. The last few pages of the book are dedicated to the process of illustration including doodles and sketched studies of Lakhey and his masks. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/getting-behind-the-divine-mask">Getting behind the divine mask</a> The Lakhey mask depicted in the book is a variation of the real thing which is supposed to give devotees divine powers when they wear them. In fact, communities in Kathmandu did not want their actual mask to be represented in the book for fear of offending the deities.&nbsp; Lakhey is a demon in the carnival of God but is worshipped as a deity protecting townspeople of the Newa civilisation. He is depicted as having a ferocious face, protruding fangs, and a mane of red or black hair.&nbsp; During festivals including Indra Jatra which falls on 17 September this year (below), he comes out on the streets and dances in a trance whirling and jumping to the thump of drums.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_0d60bd64fe6b3db69c9654e3a90569768ba0caeaaaacd1b46b5ca4e357b21a6e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20240914040936_0d60bd64fe6b3db69c9654e3a90569768ba0caeaaaacd1b46b5ca4e357b21a6e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2170" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT 4"> </figure>  On the surface, London Lakhey is a children’s book but since its release, it has found as many adolescent and adult readers who have requested most copies, says Dangol. “I want our children to remember their roots and not be ashamed of it. They can so easily feel embarrassed because they are eating dal bhat for lunch and not burgers and pizza,” says Singh.&nbsp; “We have to own up to our roots but we don’t have to stick to one singular identity either, it can be a mix of Newa and British like in my own persona. This is important for stability and a peace of mind.” ­­  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914040936_4af67a538381c66209f7cc834a6b2056857275cc12c2b3a5e3bf6f3f1c1c78c9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20240914040936_4af67a538381c66209f7cc834a6b2056857275cc12c2b3a5e3bf6f3f1c1c78c9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="London Lakhey review MASK NT 5"> </figure>

Sonia Awale

MASK

For a moment after landing at Leh airport, Nepalis can be forgiven for thinking they have just arrived in Jomsom.&nbsp; The drive into the capital of India’s Union Territory of Ladakh situated at 3,500m offers many other similarities: the arid terrain, surrounding snow-capped peaks, prayer flags fluttering everywhere, chortens and stupas.&nbsp; Although situated on the western edge of the Himalaya, it is as if the geology, culture, language and religion of Mustang leapfrogged 1,500km over northern India to transplant itself here.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_d8137187d6634badae56afc915bab7aa6bf07be0ba2f7b0ad8497c24d18fe3cc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240712040752_d8137187d6634badae56afc915bab7aa6bf07be0ba2f7b0ad8497c24d18fe3cc" data-rendition-name="original" width="794" height="583" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> </figure>  Pangong Tso stretches 160km to the east into China, and could be mistaken for Phoksundo in Dolpo, except that at 4,300m it is the world’s highest salt-water lake. A 30 minute drive south of Leh is Shey Gomba, a namesake of a similar-looking monastery in Dolpo. This ancient palace and shrine has two gilded copper statues of the sitting Buddha which were crafted by Nepali artisans that Ladakh’s King Delden Namgyal brought over from Nepal 400 years ago.&nbsp; One of the statues is 8m tall and has the name of the Nepali sculptor, Sanga Zargar Wanduk, inscribed on it. Legend has it that 8kg of gold and 120kg of copper were used and the statue took 20 years to make.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_47bde3afa140d19c310556d68848c0842ca3b102c89b1c8217fb5b2db1a07bcd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240712040752_47bde3afa140d19c310556d68848c0842ca3b102c89b1c8217fb5b2db1a07bcd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Head monk Jigden of Shey Gompa with the 400-year-old gilded Buddha made by Nepali artistans.</figcaption> </figure>  “As far as we know, in 1655 Deldan Namgyal asked the King of Kathmandu to send the artisans to build the two statues to honour his father, King Sengge Namgyal,” head monk Jigden told us.&nbsp; Thirty Nepali metalsmiths were brought to Ladakh, and after completion of the work they settled down near the Shey monastery after King Deldan gave them property. Others were offered farmlands 35km away in Chiling, and some in Chemde. We tracked down one of the descendants of the original Nepali artisans. Phunchuk Dorje, 52, is a goldsmith with a shop inside a warren of narrow alleys in Leh.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_9185d110c94bbd30383272cb4f74082b4749fb55b6ea3bbdf024cfa0b2d2b26e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240712040752_9185d110c94bbd30383272cb4f74082b4749fb55b6ea3bbdf024cfa0b2d2b26e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Phunchuk Dorje (left) whose artisan ancestors were brought from Nepal to make the Shey Buddha.</figcaption> </figure>  “Yes, my ancestor was the chief artisan who was brought from Nepal by the King of Ladakh to make the Buddha statues, but he and others stayed here,” says Dorje, who went to Nepal with his grandfather and father in 1990 to trace his forebear’s family and home village, and thinks they came from Solu. But Dorje did manage to find old ledgers where his grandfather's name was still entered as ‘Pambar Sunar’. Sunar is a Nepali occupational surname for a goldsmith. It was his father who took up the name Dorje, and he adopted a local Tibetan name. In Ladakh, the descendants of Nepali craftsmen are still called ‘Shergar’, which also means goldsmith, and the craft seems to have been passed down over the generations to Dorje. Dorje says he is both a Hindu and Buddhist, worshipping Ganesh, the Buddha and revering the Dalai Lama. In his altar at home, Dorje has a small bronze Ganesh that his grandfather brought from Nepal, and he now regards it as his family’s patron deity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_bd74346e403b2567ead2c0944e0ea844873a8c9089073223c718d7ea116cb9b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240712040752_bd74346e403b2567ead2c0944e0ea844873a8c9089073223c718d7ea116cb9b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Thiksey Monastery near Lah that is also called the 'Mini Potala'</figcaption> </figure>  Dorje’s father worked for the Indian Army, and once, after he became very ill, doctors gave up on saving his life and asked the family to take him home. Dorje prayed fervently to Ganesh, and says that within a week his father got well.&nbsp; Four hundred years after his forefather came to Ladakh, Dorje says he still has a strong attachment to the land of his ancestors, and has married a Nepali-speaking woman. Fascinated that Nepali visitors have come to see him, he confesses: “I have this strange fixation on finding out where exactly in Nepal my ancestors came from. If I had more money I would go to Nepal again on a search mission.” &nbsp; History and geography  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_52491e995b4858eb7665d54e55b6277508a4dc80cb70deb3dc332e955d58953a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240712040752_52491e995b4858eb7665d54e55b6277508a4dc80cb70deb3dc332e955d58953a" data-rendition-name="original" width="801" height="606" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> </figure>  Like Mustang, Ladakh is in the trans-Himalayan plateau. Only one third of the territory is today under Indian administration after the Aksai Chin region was annexed by China in the 1962 war. Pakistan controls the western half of Kashmir that includes parts of Ladakh. These are still volatile borders, which is why there is a strong Indian military presence in the strategic mountainous territory. At least 20 Indian and four Chinese soldiers were killed in clashes in 2020-21 between Indian and Chinese troops in Galwan, north of Leh.&nbsp; The 3-month battle in Kargil in July-September 1999 between India and Pakistan was serious enough to be called the Kargil War in which more than 1,000 soldiers were killed on both sides. &nbsp; &nbsp;Many of those who died in various wars against Pakistan and China were Gorkha soldiers from Nepal well acclimated for mountain warfare in high terrain. They were posthumously honoured with gallantry medals, and their names and photos are displayed in the Hall of Fame, 10km from Leh. Some of them: Dying away from home Major Hari Chand engaged Pakistani troops at elevations of 5,500m in 1948 and helped India gain control of Leh. He was awarded the Mahavir Chakra medal for gallantry.&nbsp; &nbsp;Lt Col Dhan Singh Thapa fought till the end against Chinese troops in October 1962. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Second Lieutenant Min Bahadur Gurung fought alongside Lt Col Thapa and charged a Chinese mortar position, destroying it before being killed. He was posthumously promoted to Lt Col, awarded India’s highest medal for valour, the Param Vir Chakra. A border post on the western shore of Pangong Tso &nbsp;was named after him.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712120740_8b82d1a558674dbff7b8b849f1808781610049e62d8be9f8474a6696094ee893.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240712120740_8b82d1a558674dbff7b8b849f1808781610049e62d8be9f8474a6696094ee893" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> </figure>  Lance Corporal Rabi Lal Thapa was awarded the Mahavir Chakra for saving an Indian unit from Chinese attacks in Ladakh in October 1962. Capt Manoj Pandey was awarded the Param Vir Chakra. He was killed in Kargil in July 1999. Other Nepalis were awarded Mahavir Charka for bravery in various other battles since 1948 against Pakistani and Chinese troops: Maj Rajesh Adhikari, Lance Corporals Prem Gurung and Nara Bahadur Ale. But today, it almost seems as if there are more tourist buses than military vehicles and more tourists than soldiers in Ladakh. Indian visitors ‘discovered’ Ladakh after the 2009 Bollywood hit The Three Idiots was filmed at Pangong Tso, and in 2012 Jab Tak Hai Jaan was shot on location in Ladakh. <h2>“It will be difficult to run Ladakh’s businesses without Nepalis.”</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_64be609bc0849669edb4642090d9d469eea2866728722d123e50ac512d03b753.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240712040752_64be609bc0849669edb4642090d9d469eea2866728722d123e50ac512d03b753" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Chandra Ghising from Sindhuli has been working in Leh for 15 years.</figcaption> </figure>  The Tibetan Kitchen in Leh is open from noon till midnight, but is so busy that entry is only allowed with table reservation. The restaurant is run entirely by 36 Nepalis from managers and chefs to waiters. “There is no other reason we are so popular, we have the best food,” says manager Gyan Pun Magar simply. “Just look at that line outside.” &nbsp;In the town of Merak near the Chinese border, the Grand Himalayan Hotel is also run entirely by Nepalis.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712060732_3cf3463d10ee8946f93d16606008300ba8f52a8fe18f7df68d2730075fcbfde1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240712060732_3cf3463d10ee8946f93d16606008300ba8f52a8fe18f7df68d2730075fcbfde1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Gyan Pun Magar, Nepali manager of the Tibetan Kitchen.</figcaption> </figure>  “Ladakh would still be here without Nepalis, but it would be difficult to run businesses here without us. From soldiers to cooks to rafting guides, we run everything,” says Rana Bahadur Pandey, who runs a bakery and migrated here from Nuwakot 25 years ago. Indeed, a new Buddhist stupa being constructed on the outskirts of Leh is being built almost entirely by Nepalis, just like their ancestors who sculpted the gilded Buddhas of Shey Monastery 400 years ago.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240712040752_69bb0881c82b011126212f7c183846e63071a074f590b98dd26a7d36f5357bf9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240712040752_69bb0881c82b011126212f7c183846e63071a074f590b98dd26a7d36f5357bf9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ladakh's Nepal links Page 6-7 NT #1220"> <figcaption>Milan Pathak (in orange) and fellow rafting guides from Nepal on the Zanskar River.</figcaption> </figure>  Along the highway from Leh to Pangong, Siddhi and Sujit Pariyar from Jumla are selling herbs and aromatic oils to tourists. There are 15 others from Jumla selling Nepali herbal products who spend summers here, and return home to their families for Dasain with their earnings. “When the monsoon off-season stops trekking, mountaineering and rafting in Nepal, we move to Ladakh,” says Milan Pathak, a rafting guide. Like others, Pathak runs white water on the Kali Gandaki, Bhote Kosi and Trisuli back home, and comes here for three months to raft on the Zanskar River, a tributary of the Indus. They head back in September at the start of the autumn rafting season in Nepal. The Zanskar River runs about 200km before it joins the Indus and the Nepali guides offer day trips of 35km, or half-day packages of 14km. &nbsp;

Ladakh’s Nepal links

The Nepali Dream is taking many Nepalis outside the country in search of a better life. Most young people on the streets of Kathmandu, in cafés or teashops are either waiting for their flights out, or for their visas. Nearly four million Nepalis live and work abroad, most of them in India, West Asia, Australia, Malaysia, Japan, Korea, the US and across Europe. More than 6,000 are in Denmark alone. These are their dreams. Rojina Syangbo, 29  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080740_2b3a01b332c6bd1dff34d939b6017e23f79e0fb734e51a8a4c001f0a2c316331.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240701080740_2b3a01b332c6bd1dff34d939b6017e23f79e0fb734e51a8a4c001f0a2c316331" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark NT 1"></figure>  “I want to find a proper job here,” says Rojina, who has been working part-time at a restaurant in Aarhus for the past six months. But this is not where she wants to end up. After getting her Master’s in Soil and Global Change from Aarhus University last year, she has been living in this western Danish town in a rented room near Den Gamle By. Rojina is working on her job application, goes to Danish language tutorial and is taking a Data Analytics class. In her late 20s, she is determined to find a job in her field so she can make her parents proud. There is pressure from her parents to get married and settle down, so her life will be easier. But she does not want to get married, at least not yet. Rojina believes a proper job will give her freedom and a better life, and she hopes to find that within the next six months. Stay tuned. Kritika Pokhrel, 27  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080740_957a4e6dadc6992102fabf45a8e8b50877c0b3e3fa5f1c2fe7dc284d42e6cc97.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240701080740_957a4e6dadc6992102fabf45a8e8b50877c0b3e3fa5f1c2fe7dc284d42e6cc97" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  “I like to go for walks these days, it helps me feel alive,” says Kritika, who lives in Aarhus and is on a strict deadline to finish her Master’s thesis by this month. She used to be a good undergrad student in Nepal before coming to Belgium, where she finished the first year of her Master’s. She then moved to Denmark last year, but it has been hard for her in Europe. The education system based on software and technology is much more advanced here. She could not navigate the lectures and assignments, and slowly her grades dropped. “If I don’t get settled in Denmark, I will go back to Nepal,” says Kritika, and is now convinced life will be better in her own country where she once worked for a British volunteer agency as a Learning and Capacity Development Adviser. Ruza Chauhan and Hemanta Thapa, 22  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080744_c7955cbafae7235365735f226226a6d609c4d2f8209b387d99ea286b20c59ba8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240701080744_c7955cbafae7235365735f226226a6d609c4d2f8209b387d99ea286b20c59ba8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  “We will fulfill our dreams together,” says Ruza Chauhan, who married Hemanta last year after knowing him for five years. Ruza’s application for an Australian visa was rejected, but they found out it was easy for a married couple to move to Denmark and came here last September. Hemanta is studying Climate and Supply Engineering at VIA University Campus Horsens, and to support his studies and overhead costs, Ruza is working full time at a cleaning company. That is still not enough to make a living, though. “I had to ask for my last semester fee from my parents,” confides Hemanta, who also works part-time in the town of Vejle. The couple is adjusting to the new country, and Ruza discontinued her studies to support her husband. They cannot both afford to be studying at the same time. Once her husband finishes university, Ruza plans to get training in hairdressing. They are confident they can take on any challenge life throws at them. They want to stay on in Denmark before they decide on their next move. Surya Prajapati, 35  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080744_473e8ba496193791179bba8b53369db892f5d06b11af280ebef085d2d5b3718d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240701080744_473e8ba496193791179bba8b53369db892f5d06b11af280ebef085d2d5b3718d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  Surya Prajapati came to Denmark eight years ago to study Structural Engineering. After the 2015 earthquake in Nepal, he worked on reconstruction of houses and the Darbar Squares of Kathmandu Valley. While with a Danish organisation in Nepal, he saw the faults in Nepal's construction sector. Surya realised that he needed to upgrade his knowledge and practice. The streets and architecture of Aarhus fascinate him, and he is amazed by how Danes adapt modern elements with traditional architecture. Surya works at Envidan, a Danish consulting engineering company, as a project engineer. He was born in Bhaktapur and wants to eventually go back and revive the rich architectural heritage of his hometown. He says, “The least I can do is give back to the community where I was born.” Soni Sah, 29  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080744_494f7e08bd1ec3f23eda576e47edf86e35dca6ce91f663269dec2d5f951c25e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240701080744_494f7e08bd1ec3f23eda576e47edf86e35dca6ce91f663269dec2d5f951c25e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  “It’s hard to integrate into the Danish society and family life here,” says Sony, who has been married to a Danish man for the past four years. She speaks fluent Danish and is familiar with the culture and society here, but still feels left out. Sony is studying Molecular Biology at Aarhus University but says she does not have many close friends in class. It is lonely despite having a supportive husband. But she likes the degree of personal freedom in Denmark, which was not possible back home. She and her husband want to go back to Nepal at some point and work in the research field. Her elderly mother is alone at home. Her husband likes Nepal and its rich culture, and is familiar with the country after having worked there. Prajent Shahi, 30  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080748_a34e42d0490abfcae3ec6f4017d46077e6d4add74219fb7f481cb19b96d3e6c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240701080748_a34e42d0490abfcae3ec6f4017d46077e6d4add74219fb7f481cb19b96d3e6c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  Prajent burned his hand while making breakfast in the morning and is in pain. He is studying Business Development at Aarhus University in Herning and has been living and working in Denmark for over two years with his wife Leena Rai. Prajent worked as a data specialist in Nepal for four years, but he did not see much of a future. He chose Denmark as it is easier for married couples to get a dependent visa compared to Australia, a major destination for Nepalis who want to study and work abroad. Since he arrived, Shahi has worked in restaurants, cleaning companies, catering firms, and hotels. His wife works as a chef at a Danish restaurant. Like other Nepali students here, Prajent is struggling with the cost of living and saving enough for school fees. Prajent has to pay 54,000 Danish Kroner ($7,800) every semester. He is concerned about his parents back in Nepal since he is the only child.“Sometimes I feel guilty about leaving them alone and not being there when they need me the most,” Prajent admits. He dreams of starting an IT company in Nepal some day. Aashish Ghimire, 24  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240701080748_25c005a55e3beee48efd7d0cd8a02179e0383588a87abd4e5a02bed06c3a8258.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240701080748_25c005a55e3beee48efd7d0cd8a02179e0383588a87abd4e5a02bed06c3a8258" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Denmark"></figure>  Aashish’s rented room in the basement of a house close to the Botanical Garden in Aarhus has one bed, one table, two suitcases. It feels like a room of someone in transit. Aashish moved to Denmark last September and is studying Economics and Business Administration at Aarhus University. As he gazes outside his window with a faraway look, he says, “I have to pay the loan that my parents took up to send me to Denmark.” For an average Nepali middle-class person, it is hard to afford education at a foreign university without borrowing money from family or a bank. Most Nepali students work as cleaners or in cafés and bars to support their studies and living. Aashish also works in a Rema 1000 warehouse, and sometimes as a food delivery courier. It has been difficult for him to manage paying school fees, and meet living costs. After finishing his studies next summer, he hopes to get a skilled job. Aashish is convinced that his life will improve by then, “It can’t be hard forever,” he says.

Looking for the Nepali Dream

This is the 50th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When I was growing up in Nuwakot, I used to see fellow villagers come back from Kathmandu wearing fancy clothes and carrying a certain swagger. They were earning good money in the garment industry, so I followed them and joined a factory in Kathmandu. I started out as a helper, but after three months, asked the manager to let me use the sewing machine. I experimented, taught myself how to use it based on observation and guidance from others. Fortunately, it came easy for me. The garment industry has been my entire world since then. It is all I know, and all I understand. I spent eight years working in the factory in Nepal and became good at it. We made clothes that were exported to the Netherlands where the garment owner knew a fellow Nepali. An acquaintance once suggested that I go overseas as there was demand for garment jobs in Jordan. I am not sure if it was, as they say, लहर or रहर (fad or fervor) but in 2012 we applied. The Chinese interviewer who had come from Jordan took a test asking interviewees to sew pockets on a piece of fabric. But I was asked to pull a thread through needles in an overlock sewing machine, which I did seamlessly. I was selected, and a few months later flew off to Jordan. I didn't even know where Jordan was. Life overseas for us migrant workers was like going to school again. You stay in the dormitory, and show up to work every morning, looking forward to that one day off every week. Every day is the same as the previous day, and you race to maximise output. In Nepal, one worker would be responsible for the entire garment. But in Jordan we had an assembly line of 35 or so workers, all Nepalis in my case, who stitched specific parts of the jacket- whether it was a sleeve cuff or armhole. It was faster. The jackets were sold in Japan, the US for about $100 each, and were of good quality. Things in the factory felt systematic. I will always remember a Nepali dai who had been in Jordan for years, and was familiar with the place and spoke Arabic. He welcomed us when we first arrived and told us to let him know if we needed any help. Jordan did not have a Nepal embassy, but as far as we were concerned he was our ambassador.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_f9ced66ffd52da470ef9e45433fef5e990ccc2e8487cec53a92465b79ab494eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023121808120_f9ced66ffd52da470ef9e45433fef5e990ccc2e8487cec53a92465b79ab494eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="480" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries NT"> </figure>  Ten months later, I fell sick. I did not want to remain in Jordan in case I became more ill or if I needed hospitalisation or surgery. Who would take care of me? &nbsp;I missed my family, especially my wife, so I returned to Nepal. A few years later after the earthquake of 2015, the same employers showed up for interviews in Nepal. I was also looking for better earning opportunities so I applied again. The interviewer recognised me and rehired me instantly. I found comfort in knowing that I already knew some of the colleagues and fellow Nepalis from my previous stint at the company.&nbsp; This time, I stuck around in Jordan from 2016 right till Covid-19. I saved up Rs70,000 every month, a large part of it tied to bonuses as the basic salaries by themselves were lower. In Nepal, I struggle to save any money but it was easier there because living expenses are taken care of. So even if the salaries may not be much higher than Nepal, it is easier to save overseas. We all have some form of skills or talent, it is money that we don’t have. That is why we go abroad. My father was a simple farmer and I did not inherit property. I started from zero, but with overseas employment, I was at least able to save some money and build a base for myself and my family. I have bought some assets, and am working hard now to ensure adequate savings for my wife and my &nbsp;old age security as well as the children’s future. During the pandemic we were kept in the company accommodation without work, but we were paid our monthly salaries. We also received some assistance from the Jordan government which I appreciated. But I decided to return to Nepal because work got slower and with it our incomes dropped. If it had not been for Covid, I do not think I would have returned. I was doing just fine there. On my brother’s advice, I started a small company in Kathmandu that produces and sells bags. Post-Covid a lot of shop fronts were vacant, so it was easy to get a good rental deal. My wife and I make and sell bags, which has allowed us to have a decent life. Our major clients are schools and offices in the neighborhood. The savings abroad and my benefits after leaving helped.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_ff1e34ba356e18e33dbe3d0ded04fc46429b12be1c30af5f512929c5ce07ddd1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023121808120_ff1e34ba356e18e33dbe3d0ded04fc46429b12be1c30af5f512929c5ce07ddd1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 50"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121808120_ec75d1654ee0e49a63532d54dcdcd66de0ffcfc8c98633b2f62e68bd0201424a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023121808120_ec75d1654ee0e49a63532d54dcdcd66de0ffcfc8c98633b2f62e68bd0201424a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries"> </figure>  &nbsp;I now aspire to go to Europe for work, which unfortunately has not worked out despite a few attempts. I have also lost some money in the process. It makes me wonder if it is God’s way of telling me to remain in Nepal. But my motivation to migrate again is different this time. When I went to Jordan, finances were my only concern. It brought me to a position where I can confidently say I have the skills and a base to sustain myself comfortably in Nepal, even if I continue the work I am doing now. It is for the children that I want to go to Europe, so that they have access to better opportunities and an easier life than we did. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.&nbsp; Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.&nbsp;

Nepali on the move

This is the 49th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When nothing worked out, I decided to go overseas. After successfully running a dance training academy in Nepal, I decided to invest in a restaurant which was the start of my downfall as an entrepreneur. It failed miserably.&nbsp; It got so bad, I struggled to find a bus fare to travel from my town of Banepa to Kathmandu. I had to start from scratch, and going overseas felt like the best bet.&nbsp; So I went to Qatar to work as a security guard in 2005, and was chosen from among 600 applicants. My English skills helped when I was interviewed again in Qatar when I had to compete with different nationalities and was lucky to be placed in good companies with better facilities than elsewhere. Once the contract of my supply company was over, the employers offered to place me elsewhere. But that posting did not appeal to me, and since I had settled my loans I decided to go home. &nbsp; After a few months, there was a demand for security guards again, this time at a five star hotel in the UAE. Two of us were selected out of 100 applicants. There, I found it interesting how I could identify the richest people by their car brands and especially license plates. Those with one or two digits are worth a lot of money in auctions, and there were many of those in the hotels I was posted to. I went abroad for work because of the दुख: and thankfully the hardships did not follow me there as it does many fellow migrant workers. &nbsp;I was lucky my security guard duties were indoors. Of course, there were challenges, such as difficult night shifts when guests were sometimes rowdy. Overall, I cannot complain.&nbsp; But this does not mean I had सुख: abroad either, I had not gone overseas looking for an easy life. My happiness is my family, and that is why I decided to return home after three years despite a good job. &nbsp; I resigned and was not really tempted by the promotion offers. I wanted to head home to Nepal where a friend wanted help overseeing a school. I became a Discipline In-charge and oversaw administrative functions at the school.&nbsp; While I was working at the school in Nepal, I was also poultry farming on the side. I made Rs50,000 in profit in 45 days, and the earnings were consistently good. This gave me the sense that there was a business potential in raising chicken. &nbsp; I was well suited for my job at the boarding school, but after hours I shed my tie and coat and would be carrying sacks of chicken feed on the bike. People in my community appreciated the fact that I had given up a good job abroad to return to Nepal. There is no big or small work, work is work.&nbsp; From 500 chicken, my farm expanded to 3,500 birds. I left the job at the school, and did full-time poultry farming and the number of chicken rose to 20,000 with a good profit margin.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121716128_5f8dc50e34c4cd343f15b9090c4b9a36680026bb3e1ee0c8099123a54944108e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023121716128_5f8dc50e34c4cd343f15b9090c4b9a36680026bb3e1ee0c8099123a54944108e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  But then there was a bird flu outbreak in a farm near mine with just 300 chicken, so we had to destroy 17,000 of our birds and halt business for 6 months. Thankfully, the government stepped in with compensation and that cushioned the blow a bit.&nbsp; To diversify, I also started a slaughterhouse which supplies smaller shops. I then expanded to open a banquet venue which dovetailed well with the butchery and poultry farm. But right after, the Covid pandemic hit and there were other challenges to overcome.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231217161212_95fbbe4a243e2928e89ee68471cae0934eb66a0cce7f411ec2cb80d1b17cdea7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231217161212_95fbbe4a243e2928e89ee68471cae0934eb66a0cce7f411ec2cb80d1b17cdea7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  There is still great potential in the agro-business in Nepal, and if the government extended soft loans and grants real farmers would benefit more. Many of the smallest farmers do not benefit from government support and that is where real intervention is needed.&nbsp; I look back at the time I first migrated overseas for work. Those were different times, simpler times. &nbsp; We had 12-hour shifts, and every Friday the supervisor would arrive in his car with stacks of letters from home. The rush of emotion when we opened the envelopes was overwhelming, and hearing from the family back home was the best feeling in the world. I do not think any other joy compares with it.&nbsp; The song सन्देशे आते हैं still makes me tear up because the lyrics perfectly describe our lives, and it evokes memories of that time. Not receiving letters made us anxious. But when we received them, we would read them with tears since the pieces of paper were touched by our family members. &nbsp;Those were raw, deep feelings that do not exist in today’s interconnected world.&nbsp; I always had a knack for writing, and used to write poems since childhood. These were simpler times and any writing I did as an adult was largely limited to my diary and in letters to my wife.&nbsp; I once remember feeling low on a Saturday while at work. It was a slow day, and I was stationed at the gate. I had to let in cars and could control the barrier from the booth itself. I am not sure why I was homesick that day, and I remember writing relentlessly in my diary which I still keep with me. &nbsp; I used to also help fellow-Nepalis draft letters when they faced family problems, especially with their spouses. Prolonged separation over long distances is already difficult on relationships and words had more value in the era of letters before video calls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121716128_752dfba5b7bb174b48de4109b1405230b2b4d44130b72d074895a78b3901101d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023121716128_752dfba5b7bb174b48de4109b1405230b2b4d44130b72d074895a78b3901101d" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  But not everyone is good with words, and some of my compatriots needed help to express to their wives how much they loved them and how they were toiling in the desert heat for their futures. Some would thank me because the letters helped mend their marital relations.&nbsp; When you are abroad, you make many friends. But even though over time you lose touch the memories are special. We had autograph books, in which we wrote farewell notes to each other. I still have mine, where one of my friends Parmananda wrote to me: Imprisoned by time, we had to struggle to express in words the mental trauma that bubbled in the corners of our hearts. But that prolonged companionship during which we worked, laughed and cried together will just be memories, and that realisation makes me regretful. However, there is no other recourse but to bandage our broken hearts as we part our ways. We have to accept that all meetings eventually end in separation. Till my last breath, I will read and re-read these words and cling to feelings which are fast fading. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.&nbsp; Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.&nbsp;

No work is big or small, work is work

The monsoon has got bad press because Nepal’s tourism operators actively told visitors to avoid <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon?%2F">the rainy season</a>. It is time to change that. The reason can be found right here in the vast alpine meadows of Central Nepal where this time of year you can walk on velvet grass of pastures abloom with delicate pink, red and yellow flowers as the mist rolls up the valley. There is no sound except the hum of bumble bees. &nbsp;&nbsp; There are dozens of places across high Nepal called Chaurikharka, which means yak pasture. But this particular Chaurikharka in Rukum East located at an altitude of 4,000m stands out for its serene beauty, rustic charm and bucolic setting. There is just the occasional chime of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">yak bells</a> in the distance, and the sharp whistle of herders corralling sheep. &nbsp;&nbsp; The grass shoots are so fragile that one hesitates to step on them, the rounded ridges appear and quickly vanish in waves of mist. With the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon"> arrival of monsoon</a>, these meadows are a soothing shade of green dotted with millions of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-anatomy-of-a-flower?%2F=">multi-coloured flowers</a>. Until very recently, it took a week or so to hike up to places like Chaurikharka, but with the expansion of the road network even to these far-flung mountains in the lap of Dhaulagiri, they are much more accessible. It is just a three-hour uphill from the Mid-Hill Highway on the border between Baglung and Rukum East.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Purists would say that such easy access devalues the sanctity of these remote high meadows, but it also means more people will be moved to treasure the experience, appreciate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">the value of nature </a>so they can take steps to protect it.&nbsp; To be sure, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier">monsoon season can be challenging for road travel</a>. The roads are rough even at the best of times, and in the monsoon they become muddy and treacherous, often blocked by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/monsoon-deluge-in-nepal"> landslides</a>. But that could be precisely the kind of adventure that the more intrepid visitors crave. Improved road connectivity has already made Chaurikharka and places like Badimallika &nbsp;and other sacred lakes in the mountains of western Nepal popular with domestic tourists. What is driving this traffic is the urge to go to exotic new places and share videos and selfies on social media. Several of Nepal’s travel vloggers have visited Chaurikharka and popularised the place, enticing followers on TikTok or YouTube to retrace their footsteps. But even as they become more popular, these fragile and once-remote places should be protected from over-tourism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="699" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon NT"> </figure>  <h2>INCREASING FOOTFALL</h2> Chaurikharka is located in Bhume Rural Municipality of East Rukum, near the scenic valley of Dhorpatan in Baglung district. Even in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture">middle of the monsoon</a>, there is a steady stream of Nepali hikers trooping to these high pastures – especially during festival days like Saune Sankranti which this year was on 17 July and actually marks the auspicious beginning of the monsoon here. “This year the rains have not been as heavy and there have been some clear mornings when we could see everything from Dhaulagiri to Machapuchre,” says Khageswar Bhandari, who trekked up here from the road. “The flowers, the greenery and the snowy mountain views make this an incredibly unique place.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Chaurikharka is worthwhile to get to in any season, but it has a different charm during the monsoon. Word has spread and because it is now easy to get to from Baglung or even Pokhara, people have been flocking here.&nbsp; “Holidays and Saturdays see the largest crowds, with up to 500 visitors every day,” says ward chair Mankaji Pun of Bhume.&nbsp; There was a time not too long ago when local herders brought sheep, goats, cows, buffaloes, horses, and mules to graze here during the monsoon. Although there are still livestock around, animals have been replaced by visitors taking selfies. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-monsoon-and-nature-s-arithmetic">The monsoon, and nature’s arithmetic</a>, Tom Robertson Ward Chair Pun says infrastructure development is his main priority. A foot trail to Chaurikharka was built last year by the Tourism Division Office in Kohalpur, but access via the Raniwas-Koipa road section still remains challenging.&nbsp; “If we get more budget, we can improve the road and facilities to make Chaurikharka the main tourist attraction of this region,” says Bhume Municipality Chair Hom Prakash Shrestha. “After that, we hope to promote Chaurikharka as a top tourist spot.”&nbsp; Economic activity is also picking up with the arrival of visitors, but there seems to be a need to manage the makeshift sheds made of corrugated sheets that spoil the beauty of the place. Tea shops and lodges are also available but facilities are basic. Kuldeep Neupane took a three-day trip from Ghorahi in Dang to visit Chaurikharka recently, and says: “This is an ideal trip to make a quick getaway and let nature recharge your mind and body. And it is much more fun with a tent, to watch the sunrise over the Himalaya or the mist blowing in.”

Visit Nepal in the monsoon

Two weeks ago, Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli announced jubilantly on social media that Nepal had achieved a historic annual growth of 81.8% in exports. He was right. Nepal’s trade did take a great leap forward compared to last year. But the dramatic rise was mainly due to processed soya bean oil.&nbsp; However, Nepal does not produce the edible oil it exports. In fact, the soya and palm oil that make up 44% of total exports are imported from Southeast Asia and South America, and simply re-exported, mostly to India.&nbsp; Under the SAFTA (South Asian Free Trade Area) Agreement, Nepal can export products to India duty-free if it has at least 30% value-added. Nepal’s traders have taken advantage of SAFTA even though the edible oils they export do not reach that value addition threshold. “The 30% value addition requirement is often only on paper,” says former commerce secretary Purushottam Ojha. “It is clear that simply packaging edible oils in Nepal does not fulfil the terms of the trade agreement.” Prime Minister Oli is aware of this, and even called Nepal’s export figures “fake” at an earlier event. The government is relying on other iffy figures to suggest that Nepal’s economy is strong and getting stronger. For example, the value of imports rose by 13.25% in 2024-25 compared to the previous fiscal year.&nbsp; Some of it was due to a jump in electric vehicle imports worth Rs 31.76 billion, but mostly it was because more wholesale soya oil was imported to be re-packaged and sold in India. The very fact that the government boasts about increased imports is an indication of how much it relies on taxing them for revenue. Touting such trade figures cannot be the basis to claim an economic rebound.&nbsp; “A jump in the value of imports can be interpreted as an increase in purchasing power, but it is not evidence of a stronger economy,” says economist Keshav Acharya. “Even though imports have increased, Nepal's domestic production and productive capacity have not improved.” Nepal Rastra Bank's semi-annual economic activity study report shows that industrial production was down in the first six months of the last fiscal year. This despite an increase in the number of new industries registered and investment commitments. Out of the Rs70.2 billion proposed foreign investment, Nepal received only Rs17.9 billion last year.&nbsp; Meanwhile, the rate of capital formation was limited to 24% last year, which is lower than the year before, suggesting that new investment, job creation and economic expansion all declined. If domestic production does not improve in relation to this year’s inflated trade figures, the outflow will put pressure on foreign exchange reserves like it did three years ago. At that time, Nepal borrowed from the IMF under its Extended Credit Facility Program to kickstart the economy.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025080710084_2cdaaa5795828c4a7de93a0604ba884ef0a8b8f24cccd939f6c24e279ab6058f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025080710084_2cdaaa5795828c4a7de93a0604ba884ef0a8b8f24cccd939f6c24e279ab6058f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1633" height="723" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's bubble economy NT"> <figcaption>Source: NEPAL RASTRA BANK</figcaption> </figure>  The macroeconomy is on firm footing with foreign exchange reserves at a comfortable Rs2,520 billion in May, up 23% from last year. This was largely due to remittances, and partly due to a falling NPR exchange rate. Real estate transactions and the stock market index have also been climbing as a result of government policies to revive the sector.&nbsp; However, former executive director of Nepal Rastra Bank Nar Bahadur Thapa cautions: “This is not organic growth, it is the result of deliberate policy decisions to relax rules on real estate and stock markets transactions.” In reality, the sharp rise in land prices have increased the cost of production, and excessive monetisation of the real estate has become the main source of Nepal’s economic woes. The central bank has announced a slew of new policies, shifting the terms of loan repayment for industrialists and entrepreneurs, reducing interest rates, and injecting more working capital — all designed to inject adrenaline into the real estate and stock market sectors.&nbsp; When he was governor, Mahaprasad Adhikari made several financial reforms during the latter half of his tenure to stimulate the economy, including tightening credit flow.&nbsp; By the last fiscal year, additional financial reforms had resulted in a credit expansion rate of around 8%. As the pace of credit expansion slows, real estate prices have started to fall. This is actually beneficial to the economy, because it lays the foundation for improvements in land-related entrepreneurship, production, and the construction sector. Just because real estate and the stock market transactions increase, it does not indicate an economic turnaround — especially when manufacturing and productive sector continues to languish.&nbsp; “It is foolish to believe that real estate and the stock market have magically revived our economy. Agriculture employs more than half of the population, but it is in decline. Investment in the productive sector has not increased, and job creation has not increased.” Two years ago, Nepal’s industrialists, business leaders, and political leadership predicted a recession amidst a sluggish business, declining market demand, large-scale job loss, and a shrinking real estate and share market.&nbsp; Still, the economy grew by 3.36% in fiscal year 2023/24. In fact, Nepal’s economy has grown nominally over the last two decades even when all sectors of the economy are in decline.&nbsp; Says Keshav Acharya: “The growth in trade, real estate, and the stock market are bubbles. The real economy remains stagnant.”

Nepal’s bubble economy

The final investigation report on the crash of a Saurya Airlines jet on 24 July 2024 at Kathmandu airport has revealed flaws in the carrier’s technical operation procedures, poor monitoring by the Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) and gaps in the airport’s emergency response. Eighteen people including a child were killed, and only the captain survived as the plane plunged seconds after takeoff, crashing within the airport perimeter. This was the latest in a series of aircraft accidents in previous years, and further tarnished Nepal’s already poor aviation safety record and contributed to the country being retained in the EU’s air safety list. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The circumstances in the Saurya crash were different from the Yeti Airlines crash in Pokhara in January 2022 that killed all 72 on board, and two Tara Air crashes in February 2016 and May 2022 on approach to Jomsom that together claimed 45 lives. However, all four tragedies were a result of negligence of carriers and crew, failure to follow procedures, regulatory slackness, and overconfidence. The Saurya crash, especially, was a glaring example of how an ailing airline broke its own rules to allow passengers, including non-employees, a joy ride to Pokhara on a maintenance ferry flight. CRASH REPORT The Final Investigation Report prepared by the Aircraft Accident Investigation Commission and released on the first anniversary of the crash last week carried a long list of rules that were ignored or broken, and of regulatory failure. The first mistake was to cram spares, tools and inflammable chemicals needed for the aircraft’s C-Check in Pokhara into the cargo hold flouting its own ground handling procedures.&nbsp; There was no check-in of passengers, some of whom were not even employees – even though regulations say only flight and maintenance crew should be on board a maintenance positioning flight. Many brought their own luggage into the plane and stored it unsecured in the cabin. There was no flight attendant to give a safety briefing to passengers. The load and trim charts given to the flight crew were rough estimates, and the total takeoff weight of the plane was 18,300kg plus or minus 200 kg. That would still have been all right, but there was a glaring mistake in the speedchart Saurya pilots were using to calculate the minimum takeoff speed (known as VR), and it had been wrong ever since the 21-year-old aircraft entered service with the airline in 2017. FAULTY DATA&nbsp; The Commission probed Flight Data Recorder inputs from previous takeoffs of the Canadian-built CRJ200-LR in 2023-2024 and found that the undetected error in the speedchart had caused the plane to pitch up at an abnormal rotation rate at least 18 times on previous takeoffs.&nbsp; Any rotation rate more than 3°/sec is regarded as unusual. But on at least two occasions, this aircraft with tail number 9N-AME had rotation rates of 5.8°/sec and 5.5°/sec, the second one was when the pilot who survived was flying in March 2024.&nbsp; On this particular day, the plane’s rotation rate was 6.5°/sec, causing it to go into a deep stall soon after takeoff, the Commission report said. Essentially, the plane was not flying fast enough down the runway to take off safely.&nbsp; It is not yet clear whether excess weight, unsecured luggage, wrong centre of gravity were also factors, but relying on a faulty speedchart for the given takeoff weight, the captain flying pulled back on the yoke before the plane had reached takeoff speed and at a pitch angle that was too steep. The investigation report says the plane then went into a deep stall and started banking right with the stick shaking. At this point, the flight officer on the right hand seat is heard on the cockpit voice recorder saying: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sir, Sir, Sir…” It then banked left before the pilot flying turned the plane sharply to the right again in an evasive action to avoid the parking aprons of the international and domestic terminals. Had he not done so, there would have been a disaster of a much greater magnitude at Kathmandu airport that day. The plane scraped the runway with its right wingtip, collided with a container having helicopter spare parts, and plunged into a gully east of the runway, exploding in a fireball. The investigation also noted that the impact forces seemed to be survivable for some occupants. The fire trucks took unnecessarily long to reach the site even though it was inside the airport perimeter. The absence of an ICAO-standard runway strip, inadequate rescue drills, lack of training, and a blocked emergency service gate leading to the crash site were cited as other factors. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Timestamp of a Disaster</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250731110724_39cdd04693994ce6e55a5b302905c0fa4884fe85bed21ff0779bb1439f3a5725" data-rendition-name="original" width="778" height="826" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:10:34 - The Saurya Airlines CRJ200 on the takeoff roll from runway 02. It had a takeoff weight of about 18,300kg, but the pilot’s speedcard had a previously undetected mistake about the minimum takeoff speed. 11:10:55 -The plane with tail number 9N-AME goes into deep stall soon after takeoff because it does not have enough speed to lift its weight. The plane also has an abnormally steep nose-up attitude.&nbsp; 11:11:03 - Without enough speed to generate lift, the plane banks right, then left and right again in CCTV photos taken from the domestic apron (below). If it had not banked right, it could have hit the aprons and terminal buildings. Seen parked is Saurya’s other CRJ200 with tail number 9N-ANM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250731110732_608132f7225c649125cca2691dd6a6bf930984c5b359e888d7ad9e5eacce3afd" data-rendition-name="original" width="770" height="555" loading="lazy" alt="Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy NT"> </figure>  11:11:08 - The plane scrapes the runway with its right wingtip, and falls into the gully. The captain is thrown off the left side of the cockpit and survives. 11:11:15: Plane explodes in a fireball inside the airport perimeter. Firefighters take time to reach the site because of lack of access road and a blocked gate. Read the full investigation report <a href="https://www.tourism.gov.np/files/9N-AME%20AIC%20Final%20Report.pdf">here</a>.

Flouting rules caused Saurya tragedy

American artist Peter Makela was in Nepal in 2022 on a Fulbright scholarship when he experienced the Matya festival in Patan in which devotees made the rounds of the city’s shrines.&nbsp;
He joined the procession, walking through 2,600 stupa and 140 bahal of the town. That immersion left a lasting impression.
As part of Gallery Mcube’s international residency program in Patan, he put his inspiration to canvas in the exhibition Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping. The exhibition also coincides with this month’s Matya festival.&nbsp;
Makela has visited Nepal often in the past 11 years but he mostly stayed in and spent his time around Boudha. “This time I stayed in Patan, put the sites I wanted to visit on my map, and off I went,” he tells us. “Each of my artwork is inspired by the stupas and shrines in Patan that I visited.”
The stupa and Ganesh are recurring motifs in his watercolours, and the elephant gods are located in chaityas — reflecting the interplay and blending of the Hindu and Buddhist faiths in Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp;
The stupas and Ganesh are painted in vivid red, yellow, blue and green against abstract backgrounds meant to represent the sky.
“I use the sky as a backdrop because the sky has no border,” says Makela. “The four colours represent the four elements, the different Buddha families and also lights bouncing off of a rainbow.”
The use of just four colours for all the artwork stands out, and combined with the absence of heavy canvases, frames or stands render Makela’s art striking in its simplicity.&nbsp;
The Ganesh is always holding something and the art also portrays the elephant god’s sacred vehicle, the mouse.
While his vibrant stupas and Ganesh reflect the tangibility of Patan’s tradition and heritage, it is as if the backdrops with their shades of grey and red and yellow capture the soul of the city’s shrines.
“If you look closely, there is a sense of form and formlessness at the same time,” he says.&nbsp;
Makela walked 108 kora around the shrines during his exploration of the town, and in the process developed a spiritual connection with Patan’s heritage and traditions.&nbsp;
The exhibition connects with visitors on a deeper, more spiritual, level as well. And with it, they feel a sense of pride as well as the need to urgently preserve Patan’s heritage for future generations.
“Peter’s inclination and approach towards Nepali art and culture is fascinating, and it reflects in his work,” says Mcube curator Manish Lal Shrestha, whose international artist residency program promotes Nepal’s cultural heritage. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Yala Yatra: Walking, Working, Worshipping
1-5 August&nbsp;
10AM-7PM
Gallery Mcube, Patan

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