This is the first instalment of our new series Nepal Made, where we profile world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. The Himalaya is the home to Ayurveda, the preventive and curative medicinal practice that relies on the tremendous diversity of plant life. This is where Hanuman is said to have come to find a specific rare herb when Ram was wounded in battle. When he could not find it, he tore off a whole mountain and hauled it down to Lanka. Since then, herbal medicines and care products have been steadily modernised in India and Nepal. Now, one Kathmandu-based company, Herveda, is going global with an all-natural skincare brand that blends traditional knowledge of medicinal plants with modern technology. Originally a Sanskrit word, Ayurveda literally means ‘the science of life’ and promotes physical and mental wellbeing through a holistic knowledge system that is 4,000 years old. Ayurvedic products have gotten more popular as global demand rises for all-natural, chemical-free cosmetic and wellness products, instead of wasteful fast fashion and beauty trends. Herveda was founded by Prativa Pandey, a scientist-entrepreneur and mother of two. She did her PhD in nanotechnology chemistry from Northwestern University in the United States and returned to Nepal in 2015 after the earthquake, staying back to explore the market and launch her brand.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251218141216_b699e74ee82333951b99b22648705dc916deb8eef3d425c77c1e2f3b1058a64d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  “I wanted to do something in Nepal, but didn’t want to be a doctor or engineer,” says Pandey at the elegant Herveda showroom in Jhamsikhel. “Whatever knowledge that I had gathered, I wanted to spread it in my own country.” Nepal is rich in traditional medicinal herbs and Ayurvedic plants, but proper utilisation and mobilisation has always been lagging. Most of the benefits are reaped by large companies and not local farmers. Pandey wanted to change that. To ensure that it gives back to the community, Herveda collaborates with farmers and local traders for fair trade. “I have always been fascinated by the medicinal herbs found in Nepal, and wanted to create high value products with them. It was a way to combine valuable indigenous knowledge with my academic research background,” adds Pandey. “I did not require a huge investment, just a proper marketing strategy.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251218141216_350f6eb1511523ea54a8aba468f20a7dffcb5def3fade4dcced30324417f83bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  According to the Trade and Promotion Center under the Ministry of Industry, Nepal’s import of cosmetic products is increasing every year, driven by demand from a younger population. These younger customers are also more conscious about the products they use. For brands like Herveda, it is important that customers engage in wellness and skincare in an ethical and sustainable manner. Apart from being all natural, Herveda’s flagship store in Jhamsikhel has a reuse box where consumers can drop used bottles, which are then recycled. The store also displays products from 35 local businesses. Pandey believes that Nepali brands should cross-promote and complement each other: “Rather than competing, I believe we should support each other. 1+1 can be 11, and not two.” Effectiveness and functionality hold great importance for Herveda. which employs 25 scientists to develop and lab test its products at its research institute. Currently, there are products ranging from Rs400-2,000, which include lip balms, serums, and essential oils. A signature product is the Berry Boost Radiance Mask, which contains Spikenard (Jatamansi), Ashwagandha, Orange Peel, and Rhododendron.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251218141216_7ec1104e0dd63db2fbbfe666034b468fe5b7e6876fde8b5446cb9d9fe27566cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Looking good by doing good NT"></figure>  Herveda exports to the United States and plans to expand to China and Europe. The products get a 50-100% markup in the international market. The company recently received a grant from UKAid to expand the market as well as build capacity to scale up. It has partnered with Agriplayer software to help to develop QR codes on its products, which consumers will be able to scan to track the product sources and evaluate pricing. Nepal lags behind in rules and regulations, and the lack of monitoring has allowed low quality cosmetic products to penetrate into the market. Herveda has got an international certification from USFTA, which is important for its foray into the export market. “For the cosmetic industry to scale up, there should be a central testing facility that is well equipped and meets international standards. Additionally, export should be made easy,” adds Pandey. “If there are too many barriers to entry, no one will be willing to invest.”

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Looking good by doing good

Ancient heritage meets dern distillery craft as the US-based The Nepali Spirit Company this month makes its global debut with Kathmandu Ayla. Inspired by Nepal’s ancient rice whiskey tradition, the product is the first of four handcrafted spirits that brings Kathmandu Valley’s 1,000-year-old ayla tradition to the world stage. “The first four products combine history, culture, and tradition and it has taken eight years to get to this launch point,” says CEO of The Nepal Spirit Company Kashish Das Shrestha, who is also publishing a book on the history of alcohol in Nepali culture. The other three ayla products are Masala Whiskey aged in Brazilian Amburana casks and spiced with black cardamom from Nepal, Annapurna Ayla, and Haku Chaku Himalayan Espresso Liqueur made with organic Nepali coffee, and chaku (dark molasses).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  “I started visiting international whiskey auctions six years ago and after reading about distilling, my passion for spirits grew, and I felt the urge to tell the story of Nepal’s heritage spirits to the world,” explains Shrestha. Once poured in Nepal’s royal courts, ayla is a clear rice whiskey that is a millennia-old living heritage of Kathmandu used in rituals from birth to death and traditional life milestones of its inhabitants. Ayla is distilled to capture the classic aromas and flavors, with a soft sweet after taste. It can be enjoyed neat, sipped through meals, or enjoyed as shots. With more than 15% of Nepal’s population living and working abroad, there is a cultural demand for ayla in the diaspora from Asan to Amstredam to Australia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1270" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;“We also believe ayla is a wonderful way to tell Nepal’s story to the world,” says Lilu KC Shrestha, Chief Operating Officer of the company. “We intend to use our platform to promote Nepal in any way we can, and also find ways to give back to the country. It was high time a world-class Nepali spirits brand entered the global market, and we are proud to take the lead.” Aside from the ayla itself, the bottle and packaging was conceived by New York-based designer Sahara Shrestha to reflect a complete Nepaliness. “Each bottle and box is a love letter to Nepal, and every detail is an expression of respect and appreciation of Nepali heritage and our desire to share it with the world,” says Kashish Das Shrestha. “And ayla itself is a sacred part of our culture, so we wanted to make sure the bottle reflects this reverence.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> <figcaption>Aylarita</figcaption> </figure>  The bottom of each bottle has an embossed Mandala representing the universe and its interconnectedness. A glass molding of Himalayan peaks Chomolungma and Nuptse signifies the earth and heaven. The bottle cap is a black and gold rendering of the metal plates that hang from Kathmandu’s temples. The logo of The Nepali Spirit Company is also inspired by the unti, a traditional vessel used to pour ayla. While its top is typically adorned with a peacock, the company’s design replaces it with rice stalks. This motif is also on the label of Annapurna Whiskey named in honour of both the mountain and the goddess, the giver of grain. For a new take, ayla can be paired with a lime wedge lathered in honey, cumin, and salt, or on the glass rim. It can also be mixed into cocktails to make Aylarita, Aylatini, or Aylapolitan. <a href="http://www.thenepalispirit.com/" target="_blank">www.thenepalispirit.com</a>, @TheNepaliSpirit

The American Ayla

Even as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>Day was marked in Nepal on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado, dozens of Nepalis who have<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/everest-summiteers-find-new-life-in-the-us"> climbed the world’s highest peak </a>multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Danuru Sherpa’s father was part of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/everest-70-years-on?fbclid=IwAR34nxhAOehTjLeeuqKY391r1CVxCy1fustpbQbSP1T5WMqQq102tJ1e3Ho">1953 expedition</a> to Mt Everest that put <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay </a>on the summit. He later climbed Kangchenjunga, Ama Dablam and Annapurna with Hillary’s son, Peter. Danuru grew up in this climbing family in Phortse with seven other siblings, and as a teenager became a high altitude porter and guide.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100648_8c3f79c19f9a83b24e8193709c41dbcc7825ed1c8d89b10947effe65e880d5b1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250605100648_8c3f79c19f9a83b24e8193709c41dbcc7825ed1c8d89b10947effe65e880d5b1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1054" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH: Danuru Sherpa, 46, was only 18 when he climbed Mt Everest for the first time in 1998. Since then he has summitted 16 times.</figcaption></figure>  He was only 18 when he climbed Everest for the first time in 1998. Since then he has sumitted 16 times. In 2006 Spring, he got to the top twice in the same season. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/without-sherpas-there-is-no-mountaineering">Mountaineering</a> made me famous, but it was seasonal work. It did not bring enough money to support my family,” says Danuru, 46, who has two daughters and a son. He came to the US in 2013, and is now a chef at Sherpa House in Boulder. But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/why-we-climb-mountains">climbing is a passion</a>, and on the side he has climbed Mt Denali in Alaska, and guides climbing groups in the Rockies. He says, “I want to do<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Overflying,288"> Everest again</a> till I am 60, but Nepal should take better care of mountaineers like us. Climbing is dangerous and the insurance is not enough.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100648_26b4f6883ce3362c6f0c312d35422a57384c04aeb673f578d3ddb660761747fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250605100648_26b4f6883ce3362c6f0c312d35422a57384c04aeb673f578d3ddb660761747fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>Danuru's brother Panuru Sherpa on the top of Mt Everest in 2002 with a client. He has also climbed the world's highest mountain 16 times.</figcaption></figure>  Danuru’s elder brother Panuru also climbed Everest for the first time in 1993, and in 2021 made his 16th summit. He has since emigrated to America, guiding climbers in Alaska, and goes on skiing expeditions in his free time. He also works at Sherpa House. There are 100 Sherpas in Colorado, and 25 of them are multiple Everest summiteers. There are 27 just from Phortse in the state, and six have climbed Everest 34 times between them. Tashi Sherpa has climbed Everest 17 times, and is a Uber driver in Denver. On the side, he trains climbers in Colorado’s mountains. Jangbu Sherpa is also a 10-time Everest summiteer who works as a chef at Everest House.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100652_cf775e235a4068330d35f304b255f5874c852a045b913784f327dc924f03334a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250605100652_cf775e235a4068330d35f304b255f5874c852a045b913784f327dc924f03334a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1759" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sherpaland, Co. USA NT"><figcaption>Both brothers work as chefs at Sherpa House Colorado in the town of Golden.</figcaption></figure>  Also in Colorado is Pasang Lhamu Sherpa Akita, the first Nepali woman to become a UIAA certified mountaineering instructor, and one of the first Nepali women to reach the summit of K2. Nima Doma Sherpa trained herself to be a mountaineer and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/everest-summiteers-find-new-life-in-the-us"> climbed Everest in memory of her husband</a> who was killed in the Khumbu Icefall avalanche in 2014. “One of the reasons Sherpas are emigrating is because there is no support mechanism for families whose members are killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>,” says Nima Doma. “When a soldier dies, the state declares him a martyr and provides compensation, and pension to his family. When a support climber dies, his family is forgotten.” <h2>The House of Sherpa</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511064_6c6587ac90936e30737bf724d1a1941b969a7d97ce1e6d653d7e49f66cc1248c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2025060511064_6c6587ac90936e30737bf724d1a1941b969a7d97ce1e6d653d7e49f66cc1248c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1002" loading="lazy" alt="The House of Sherpa NT"></figure>  Lhakpa Sherpa was born 50 years ago in the tiny village of Syangma. As a boy he remembers going to Namche Bazar, making a perilous crossing of the foaming Dudh Kosi. Namche was like a city compared to Syangma. He lived with his parents and two other siblings who had to walk the roundtrip of six hours six days a week to school. There was a wooden log over huge boulders on which they balanced themselves precariously to cross the river. When floods washed away the log, they couldn’t go to school for weeks. During summer holidays, Lhakpa and his siblings joined their parents to take yaks to high pasture. The family cooked and ate potatoes and buckwheat they planted on their terraced farm. Lhakpa became the first boy in Syangma to graduate from high school, and then went to college in Kathmandu, working in restaurants and guiding trekking groups to earn money. Tourism was booming in Nepal in the 1990s, and he dropped out of college to guide groups. Lhakpa had watched planes landing in Syangboche and Lukla, and had always wanted to be a pilot. He went to the United States and joined flying school, while running his company, Sherpa Landscaping. The business took off, and there was no time anymore to complete pilot training. Winters were less busy, so in 2009 he decided to open a restaurant in Golden, near Denver. Not just any restaurant, but one that represented Nepal and his Sherpa culture. He visited Nepal every year and brought back traditional items to decorate his Sherpa House Restaurant and Culture Centre.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511068_e0b00341968e548b76e53567e0cd7b727bd816f5586496b765ba53b0e3fd1144.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025060511068_e0b00341968e548b76e53567e0cd7b727bd816f5586496b765ba53b0e3fd1144" data-rendition-name="original" width="1460" height="1666" loading="lazy" alt="The House of Sherpa NT"></figure>  It became an instant hit, even more successful than his landscape company. What was supposed to be a side gig quickly became his main business. At an intersection in picturesque Golden, with the Rockies forming a backdrop to the west, Sherpa House is immediately recognisable from afar. On one side is a monastery, a gift shop at the other, and the restaurant in the middle. The interior décor of intricately carved displays also has an antique shortwave radio and old tape recorder, giving the space a feeling of 1980s Khumbu. The restaurant has 600 customers every day and the queue gets long in the evenings. Most diners are Americans, with a sprinkling of people of Nepali or Indian origin. The chefs and two dozen restaurant workers are constantly busy on the momo assembly line. In 2013, Lhakpa and partners opened the Sherpa Brewery in Chitwan, and the beer imported from Nepal is popular here. “Business is not just about profit,” says Lhakpa. “It is also a service, that is why maybe a restaurant is called a service industry.” With a part of the profits from the venture Lhakpa has started the charity Hike for Help that has helped rebuild his old school in Khumbu that was damaged in the earthquake, added a dorm and built health posts. He has upgraded the trail from Syangma to Namche where he used to walk back and forth as a boy. There is now a suspension bridge where there used to be a log across the boulders of the Dudh Kosi. Says Lhakpa: “I don’t calculate what percentage of the profit should go to charity. I give when it is needed, as much as needed.” <h2>Dreaming big in America</h2>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100656_cf82b53399685be51021b1ca6e5d960a8f6adf67679ec78b1750648393542786.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250605100656_cf82b53399685be51021b1ca6e5d960a8f6adf67679ec78b1750648393542786" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>  When Pemba Sherpa flew out of Kathmandu airport in 1999, he was 19. He had $200 cash in his pocket, a suitcase, a sleeping bag, and a dream. An American dream. Born in 1971 in Syangma of Khumbu in a family with five siblings, he watched planes take off and land at Lukla airfield on the other side of the river, while grazing the family’s 25 yaks. Every day he walked three hours to Chaurikharka to school, and three hours back. He dropped out at Grade 4 and started portering. His first job paid him Rs60 hauling a load of 30kg on his back up the trail — the first time he saw money. On his first visit to Kathmandu, he was amazed by the tall buildings, the crowds and cars. He guided trekkers, and learnt a smattering of English. One of his trekking clients was an American, who sponsored his first trip to the US. Adjusting to life and surviving in America was initially as difficult as hauling trekking gear to Everest Base Camp. He washed cars, worked as a gardener, and did dishes. He did not know anyone in Colorado, was often homesick, and drooled remembering his mother’s cooking. This was not the dream he had about America, and he thought of heading back to Nepal. But he hardened his resolve, joined English language classes, memorised words all night, sticking them to the walls of his room. He got himself a college degree, and was hired by a Colorado-based trekking company. He struck out on his own to set up a travel company, taking American clients to Nepal, Tanzania, Bhutan, Pakistan and other places on treks. “I remember there was one Thai International flight from Bangkok to Kathmandu in which 90% of the passengers were my clients,” recalls Pemba. But then the Maoist conflict killed Nepal’s tourism industry, the Kathmandu office closed and many lost their jobs. The collapse of tourism opened up other avenues for Pemba, who then invested in real estate just at the right time to make millions. He now has 12 properties in Boulder alone, including one that houses his Sherpa Adventure and Restaurant that employs 40 fellow-Nepalis. He got himself a commercial pilot’s license in 2009. But his dream of starting an airline in Nepal was thwarted by unstable politics back home. He bought himself a 4-seater Piper Arrow and flies around the United States in it. The success of Starbucks inspired him to make a foray into, not coffee, but tea. He studied the market and launched the Sherpa Chai brand. It took off, and its seven flavours sell in 3,000 stores across the US. It had a $2.7 million turnover last year, and Pemba is aiming to hit $50 million.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250605100656_9d00aa28b2a7e9e6631fca57134534059d23a7d2531f269a01885302886e16a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250605100656_9d00aa28b2a7e9e6631fca57134534059d23a7d2531f269a01885302886e16a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1484" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>  The company imports $30,000 worth of Nepali tea every month from gardens in Phidim, though it is more expensive than other teas. But wherever he flies, Pemba’s heart is still in Syangmo. He has helped build suspension bridges, upgrade trekking trails, repair schools after the 2015 earthquake, and even set up a small hydroelectric plant to light up Syangmo at night. His memoir Bridging Worlds: A Sherpa’s Story has won awards. Pemba Sherpa has not given up on Nepal, and says his life is proof that no matter where a person is born, success is not possible without struggle and hard work. He adds, “Nepal has huge potential, we just have to improve governance and rise above our obsessions with ethnicity and caste.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025060511060_39ad7e520066ce50f79650c32e12164c82888696212b2cc60684d0176513c79e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025060511060_39ad7e520066ce50f79650c32e12164c82888696212b2cc60684d0176513c79e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Dreaming big in America NT"></figure>

Sherpaland, CO, USA

Generative <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/artificial-censorship">AI models</a> such as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/chatgpt-news-about-nepal">ChatGPT</a> and Sonnet are trained on massive amounts of data that have over time enabled them to answer general questions. But they do not perform as well on narrower domains, even hallucinating or making things up.
Now here comes <a href="https://www.anthromind.com/">Anthromind</a>, a startup developed by a 28-year-old Nepali engineer Pratik Karki in the tech-womb at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-in-the-decade-of-ai">Silicon Valley</a>, which develops datasets to improve the performance of AI models in specific areas.
Large<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-bhasa-on-google-translate"> language models </a>are ‘distilled’ by running them on smaller, higher-quality data. AI is first used to assist with labelling or generating data. After that, human experts look at the responses and explain how they are wrong, helping tune the model just right.
Karki got the idea while working at Google, where he saw that while companies were trying to create their own models, they failed because the data was of low quality. In 2024, he left his lucrative job and took a risk by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-can-create-a-business-friendly-environment?fb_comment_id=2995148037177314_6370548419637242">setting up a business </a>that could make real impact.
It has not been easy. At Google he was one of over 100,000 employees, but after launching Anthromind, Karki has had to do sales, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4323">marketing</a>, and recruiting, as well as leading a whole new team.
“At some point in your career, everything turns into sales,” Karki told us by phone. “You need to sell <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-invest-in-nepal">potential investors</a> on your vision, and you get a million no’s before a yes.” The connections he made at Google helped, and he even managed to poach a few and others became <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-has-to-curb-corruption-before-wooing-investors">investors</a>.
Karki studied in Biratnagar before moving to Kathmandu to do his A-levels where he did business courses. He remembers those formative years and credits his teachers in Nepal for encouraging him to put himself out there and to speak up when needed.
He then went to Grinnell College in Iowa where he studied computer science and statistics, and realised that he liked to code: “I especially got a high debugging a program until it worked.”&nbsp;
He went on to pursue a Master’s in Computer Science and describes the course as a pure program with some very difficult machine learning courses.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/tech-and-transition-in-nepal">Tech and transition in Nepal</a>, Ashutosh Mani Dixit
Karki was recruited to Google from a highly selective early career program and got to work closely with the companies that were then building the generative Large Language Models that have since taken the world by storm. He worked on essential training infrastructure, including data warehousing and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9825">computing </a>needs.
“Internally, we all knew about this<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/makeshift/addressing-nepals-digital-divide"> technology </a>and how disruptive they would be,” says Karki. “But I also saw its limitations.”
Karki took a calculated risk in setting up his own company, knowing fully well that for Anthromind to succeed he would need a very obsessive and disciplined mindset.&nbsp;
“Every Friday evening I look at weekly data, and what worked and what didn’t, especially in terms of getting customers,” he says. “I had to be very deliberate with everything I did.”
Karki attributes this discipline and frugality to growing up in Nepal, which he misses dearly, especially his family and the community. His best friends in California are Nepalis, they meet often and have already made plans to celebrate the approaching <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/new-year-same-difference">Nepali New Year</a> with home-made <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/adventures-of-a-little-dumpling-named-momo-and-other-books">momos</a>.&nbsp;
Karki sees a lot more potential in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/it-is-it">IT industry in Nepal</a>, at the moment saturated with service-based companies when ideally new businesses should focus on products.&nbsp;
He explains how companies that provide offshore <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/tech-away/nepal-s-health-tech-industry-is-here-to-stay">tech services </a>operate in a ‘default:alive’ state, where they can carry on even if they only have one client.
The alternative is a company whose success depends entirely on the quality of the product it puts out, a ‘default:dead’ state. This forces programmers to adopt an urgent, disciplined mindset. While a lot harder and riskier, it also has higher returns.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/nepal-as-an-ai-power-bank">Nepal as an AI power bank</a>, Bikash Pandey
Karki is in a cohort of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/let-s-listen-to-nepal-s-young-changemakers">young Nepalis</a> in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/it-is-all-about-it-in-nepal,3887">IT industry</a> who have proven that serious tech innovation can come out of Nepal. Pukar Hamal of SecurityPal was recently featured in Forbes, while Sameer Maskey’s FuseMachines has been listed on NASDAQ.
Financially independent since 18, Karki says <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/1-in-5-nepal-families-lack-food">Nepali families</a> should encourage their children to make such moves. Nepal’s education system should reward curiosity, instead of quelling it, to promote <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/kesha-kumari-damini-awarded-by-norwegian-business-for-peace-foundation,1356">entrepreneurship</a>.&nbsp;
He says, “Students should be rewarded for thinking individually and speaking out, like I was.”

Vishad Raj Onta

Kathmandu Valley to Silicon Valley

This is the 57th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. I worked overseas for 16 years in Qatar, Dubai and Seychelles in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/good-housekeeping">housekeeping</a>. I have even been involved in the pre-opening of seven 5-star properties abroad. In 1996, I had to pay Rs35,000 to the recruiter for my Qatar job. Back then that was a lot of money, which my family could not afford. No one was able to help, perhaps because I could not convince them that I would pay them back.&nbsp; Eventually, it was my father’s friend who sold his buffalo to loan the money. I vividly remember that kind gesture. Had he not helped, I probably would not be where I am today.&nbsp; Everyone faces challenges in life, but there are very few who are pillars of support during tough times. I told my father from Qatar to let his friend pick the buffalo of his choice to repay him. I had flown out of Kathmandu, all excited, wearing a suit and tie. But the minute I got off the plane in Doha, the heat hit me and the coat came off, and the tie-knot was loosened. I immediately started thinking that I had made a mistake to go there.&nbsp; But I was lucky to get a job indoors in a hotel that had good facilities, not like many Nepalis who had to toil in the heat. I was one of the first cohorts, the first Nepali, at the Sheraton in Doha.&nbsp; Within a couple of years, there were 76 Nepalis working at the hotel. As test hires, we left a good impression on management and won their trust, which subsequently opened doors for more Nepalis.&nbsp; To be born as a Nepali means to be born to work hard and struggle. And that is what I did all those years abroad. I also wanted to advance in my career by earning a higher salary, get promoted. Now, what (अब के?) was the question I often pondered.&nbsp; While working as an attendant, I took up cross-training in my free time which prepared me for my role as a supervisor. This made me ready for the position when the right time came. I was promoted in the following years in hotels across &nbsp;<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrants-returning-from-the-gulf-with-infertility">the Gulf</a>. The highlight was to get a chance to serve <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra</a> and his family who stayed at Doha Sheraton on their way back to Nepal from the UK in 1999. The royal couple chatted with us casually and asked us about our wages and job facilities, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work">life overseas</a> and families back home. It felt like they were our guardians. I was in Dubai when I learnt of the royal massacre in 2001, and the memories of serving our king and queen three years previously came rushing back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025021407020_32adfd3afeff2491991abfc83adeffcb3dbb2b5cc329a5bcfa798641a0db33ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Now, what DD 57 NT"> </figure>  When I first went to Qatar, I was raw clay, but I fell into the right hands that shaped me into a beautiful vase. The training I received along with colleagues from over a hundred nationalities gave me exposure and helped me grow. This is not just my story but the story of many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-job-seeker-now-creates-jobs-in-nepal">migrants who have returned to Nepal</a>, to use the skills we gained abroad. With my savings I could build a brick house, afford better food and clothes, and invest in cars. &nbsp;These are tangible benefits. But as you earn more, your needs grow. Had I known better, I would have invested more wisely. But the skills I learnt enabled me to run Sankalpa, a facilities management business in Nepal that specialises in cleaning jobs, and provides employment to 85 workers. I had dreamt of starting something like this, but there were always reasons to postpone taking the leap.&nbsp; I was abroad for financial reasons, and there were personal challenges such as deaths in the family. But I finally decided to come back to Nepal 12 years ago and start this business.&nbsp; Initially, I had regrets about my decision to return. I had left behind a cushy Senior job with a handsome salary of AED7,500 ($2,000). After 16 years abroad, it was difficult adjusting to Nepal because working here requires you to knock at many doors, and you need connections. This can lead to much frustration, but even then I persevered. Now, I am happy with where I am at. Cleaning is not just magic, as it is often perceived; it is a science. Different chemicals and methods are required to clean various surfaces. We are raising awareness and creating demand for professional cleaning services across Nepal.&nbsp; It is important to invest in proper cleaning, not just for the longevity and cleanliness of marble, sofas, or carpets, but also for hygiene and health reasons. In my first year and a half, I did 24,000km on my bike in Kathmandu on marketing trips, knocking on door after door. It has not been easy but has its rewards, especially as I am able to provide jobs to over 80 workers.&nbsp; It is not like there are no opportunities in Nepal. There are. But it requires lots of discipline and patience, and you need to renew your energy every day. You have to have the faith that even if things don’t work out today, they will tomorrow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal">Proud to give back to Nepal</a>, Prakash Katuwal&nbsp; When I was in Doha Sheraton, there was a Bangladeshi staff who at 60 years old was working at the company canteen to sustain his family back home. I remember my friend looking at him and commenting: “Our future.”&nbsp; In my mind, this stayed as a warning because I wanted to come home to my wife and children and did not want that future for myself. I had always planned to return home, the sooner the better. Sankalpa had been brewing in my head for a long time. I had to make it work here at all costs. Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Now, what?

This is the 55th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular column about migration in Nepali Times. Trying to escape being recruited by the Maoists, and running out of options in Nepal, I dropped out of school and paid Rs300,000 to a recruiter to take me to the UAE on a tourist visa.&nbsp; I was stranded there for two months, and just as my visa was about to expire, I landed a job in the warehouse of an American base in Afghanistan. Within three months, I got promoted to a Senior Supervisor which irked some of my colleagues who had been working there for seven years. I was already also feeling discriminated against by my Nepali colleagues, except one colleague from Taplejung who had a good heart. One day, a bomb exploded in a container with food items, killing nine people. I had enough and returned to Nepal. When you are so close to death, you reassess your life choices. In my 17 months in Afghanistan, I had earned close to Rs3 million which helped me buy land and build a house. In Kathmandu, I came across an ad in Kantipur for Korean language classes, and without even returning to Janakpur I enrolled. The EPS language test was just 58 days away, and there were people who had been preparing for the Korean language test for up to three years. The odds were stacked against me. I studied for the exam as though my life depended on it. I aced the mock exams. I ranked first out of 600 students, and this reminded me of my childhood when I was a class topper. It was the financial situation that had made me discontinue my studies. I managed to pass the exam, the only person out of the 36 living in our rented building. I went to Korea and worked in manufacturing. Three months into my stint, my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I came home for a month to take care of him.&nbsp; Even if I did not have liquid cash, I knew I had a job waiting for me in Korea and could have borrowed money to take my father to India. My only priority was to keep my father alive. But the doctor said his case was terminal.&nbsp; He was discharged from hospital, and we brought him home. As I left for Korea, he could not speak properly but acknowledged that I was leaving and gestured his blessings. He died a week later. I was at work, and went to my room to grieve. I declined my employer’s offer to buy me a ticket home as I had already lost my father. I mourned for him for a week in my room. In the five years there, I repaid the loans I had taken for my father’s medical bills and even had some savings. I could have renewed my contract in Korea for another five years, but I decided against it.&nbsp; Of course, it was exhilarating to be paid Rs200,000 a month in my bank account, but I had worked for others all my life, and now that I had made some money, I wanted to do something on my own in Nepal. The technical skills I had accumulated working in a car company were not very applicable here. But I also learnt many other things in Korea like work ethic, respect for peers, and discipline. I bought a used machine that makes notebooks and set up Rudraksha, a notebook factory.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226091228_1aede8148362860c9c16b65ceeaf8df6a1df02c61b5d6bce3180d6a547fa2f64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  I hired a former worker from the same factory I had bought the machine from and he taught me how to operate it and about the stationery business. Seven years later, he is still working with me.&nbsp; It is in Korea that I learnt how bosses and staff work side-by-side and there is no task that is too big or small. I know that when I work with my staff, it makes them more proactive. I used to deliver the notebooks on my bike to shops all over my district and beyond. Later I diversified and took on dealership of brands like Natraj, Cello and Doms. This spread out my income sources naturally because it was related to my notebook factory . Things were going well until the pandemic hit and I suffered a huge loss. The notebooks in stock were all damaged. I was idle, so I became a dealer for Bikaji and expanded to other brands like Horlicks, Nestle, Dabur Nepal and Tokla tea. As things recovered, my brothers and I dabbled in a shoe factory. Other than instinctively knowing that there was a high demand for affordable shoes in our area, we did not have any prior knowledge or experience in this sector. It was a gamble and the upfront investments were high, but fortunately it has worked out well.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226091228_d695759f66c03d08fda6ce25be00e122c01f18cd671e27640bc30392933c8d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspori Diaries 55"> </figure>  Our company, TNT, has good designs and finishing at affordable prices and it has attracted customers across Nepal. While there are challenges like fierce competition and high bank interest rates, we are doing quite well for ourselves.&nbsp; Across my portfolio, I am providing jobs to 122 workers. I first started with a Rs150 business as a kid selling plastic bags in a vegetable market for Rs1.25 each. I have come a long way since then. My work has given me recognition in my area, even though I tend to be quite introverted. My community members who have watched me since I was little tell me that I am a legend in the tea shops as someone who rose from nothing to be a successful entrepreneur.&nbsp; With my father’s salary as a teacher, we did not even have money to buy school uniforms. I value hard work and that is what I tell young people. When I am on someone’s payroll, I take ownership of the work. I do not let time dictate my work schedule.&nbsp; If I can stay an extra ten minutes to solve something, I do not leave it for tomorrow. Little things like this matter. For those of us without a strong family back-up, foreign employment can be beneficial. But I have also met a few people who were overseas who are still there.&nbsp; Their children are now also overseas. Those stories are a bit disheartening. I am not sure why things are that way. Perhaps people overspend and do not prioritise savings? I was one of the first workers in Korea from our Maithili community and I did not have many friends from the Tarai there. Towards the end of my stay there, I met a few here and there. Many from our villages opt for overseas employment opportunities where agents just hand over their visas at a price. I remind young people to be patient and take up language classes so they can benefit from higher paying jobs.&nbsp; Working hard has not stopped even now. I want to leave a legacy. Let’s see what the future holds. My next goal is to start a pen factory. &nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a Nepali Times collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad.

Overseas job-seeker now creates jobs in Nepal

<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a00f9c7e80680e0d701djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="166" height="168"></div>
Bishnu Pandey’s family was involved in subsistence farming. They could only grow just enough to feed everyone, and had a few cattle and goats.
As a young boy, Bishnu tagged along when his father ploughed the fields. When siblings were too lazy to feed the animals, he would volunteer. Even when his friends invited him to play with them, he preferred the company of the goats and cattle.
Even though his family had always been involved in farming, it was just to survive — never to earn money from it.
So when Bishnu first decided to start a goat farm, his family and friends thought it was a daft idea. After all, he had a growing dairy depot, so, why give up a thriving business to take up something so labour intensive?
But as a person who enjoyed the outdoors, Bishnu knew he could only be truly happy working with livestock. So, despite the family’s mild protests he shut down his shop, and invested the amount to import three Boer goats from Australia, bought 20 local female goats and housed them in a modern shed.
Three years down the line, Ankita Krishi tatha Pasu Bikas Kendra, named after his younger daughter, is a thriving business and has 90 Boer and hybrid goats.
“They are happy now, or so they tell me,” laughs Bishnu. “My family sees that I am serious about this work and that it gives me satisfaction. They also see it is commercially viable.”
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-give-up-on-nepal-it-has-lots-to-offer/">Don’t give up on Nepal, it has lots to offer</a>, Sahina Shrestha
For the first one and half years of starting the goat farm, however, Bishnu found it hard to break even. But with a ten-year plan, he was confident his business plan would work. His confidence was boosted when he sold the first purebred Boer kids for an average of Rs190,000 each.
“I understood that this profession requires a lot of patience along with hard work, so I was not only mentally prepared, I also planned my budget accordingly,” he says.
<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a00f9c7e80680e0d701djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="166" height="168"></div>
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Bishnu first got the idea to import Boer goats and got the design for his shed with feeding stalls from a YouTube video of a farmer in Chitwan breeding goats.
He was worried that South African breeds would not take to the Tarai climate, they may not always have access to grazing. But when he looked up videos of modern sheds he finally took the plunge.
“Goats are cheaper compared to cattle and can easily be sold,” says Bishnu. “During Dasain and other festivals, we need to import goats but if more people do their research and get involved in this, we can eventually be self-reliant and create job opportunities here in Nepal.”
Seven years ago, as people from surrounding villages started migrating abroad in search of work, Bishnu too had set his eyes on going to South Korea where working conditions and pay were better than the Gulf.
He joined Korean classes with three of his friends, and appeared for the EPS exams. But he was not satisfied with his score, and decided to stay back and work in Nepal. He has no regrets.
<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230208140212/63e3a01c9c7e80680e0d7020jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1366"></div>
“The economic condition of my friends who have gone abroad is definitely better than mine. They have rebuilt their houses and bought land. But socially I feel like I am in a better place,” says Bishnu. “People here know me because of the work I do. Moreover, I get to spend time with my family and see my children grow up.”
These days, people from adjoining districts come looking for Bishnu to learn the ropes, and he is more than happy to share his knowledge.
Over the years he has also picked up some essential skills that have helped him take care of his animals better. He mixes his own feed for the goats. He also took a 15-day veterinary training in Kathmandu since vets would be expensive.
Bishnu now employs two people to help him around the farm. But when they are not around, his wife Laxmi lends him a hand. With each passing year, he says his sense of fulfilment has grown: “It is hard work, but it is something that makes me happy.”
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pigs-fly-and-fish-climb-trees/" target="_blank">Pigs fly and fish climb trees</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Sahina Shrestha

Down on Bishnu's farm

The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

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