What began as a joint effort to research Nepal’s natural resources has now become a global representation of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-making-of-kathmandu-valley-style">indigenous craftsmanship</a>, and empowering women. Arati Subba and Samriddhi Gurung were raised in the UK, had years of experience in the fashion industry, and found themselves in Nepal during the Covid-19 pandemic. “I always wanted to explore what Nepal naturally offers,” says Gurung. “After a lot of research, we discovered that beeswax is a biowaste that lasts three times longer than soy or paraffin wax.” She researched the local market for lifestyle products, and found only paraffin candles for sale. So, they thought, why not create beeswax candles?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025012011018_dbdf64ffc6c18c926717a2214e902c4e6600e95aa2f2670e614647fe70d6d984.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025012011018_dbdf64ffc6c18c926717a2214e902c4e6600e95aa2f2670e614647fe70d6d984" data-rendition-name="original" width="5472" height="3648" loading="lazy" alt="Reviving Nepal's craft NT"> <figcaption>Arati Subba and Samriddhi Gurung, founders of Riti Studio. Photo: RITI STUDIO</figcaption> </figure>  Together, they set up Riti Studio and have now diversified from candles to grow into a business in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/seams-sustainable">sustainable lifestyle</a> products.&nbsp; Based in Nepal and Hong Kong, Riti's all-women team now also handcrafts candles, incense sticks, and ceramics. It strives to preserve Nepal’s craft traditions. “Do you know how to hand-roll incense sticks by yourself?” Gurung asks. “My grandmother still does it, but neither my mother nor I know how to do that. So, this is an effort to preserve our generational craft, and take it further.” The entrepreneur duo define their approach as ‘slow luxury of artisanal quality’ and collaborate with local artisans. Each ceramic piece, for example, is hand-crafted, reflecting the skill and dedication of those involved.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025012011018_db44619728c2f031c8412a86206b6166cff7258796d170df73b8db3b85736ebd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025012011018_db44619728c2f031c8412a86206b6166cff7258796d170df73b8db3b85736ebd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reviving Nepal's craft NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SANGYA LAMSAL</figcaption> </figure>  “Every piece is unique in itself,” says Subba. “The design is the same, but the actual printwork, texture, it is all different.” Sustainability remains a key priority, but financial viability is also important. In the early days, the two scoured nearly every <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/honey-money?s=08">honey shop</a> they could find. Most honey sellers in Nepal also have their own farms where they source raw materials. Their search extended beyond honey, as they also sought local suppliers for ceramics and packaging. After finding the right materials, they sampled to ensure quality. Only then did they move to production and marketing, for which Nepali language was a must.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025012011018_55c551fd62ed7dd91c2d511ab1561b76ad3805f7772cfb005bc6eeb133c479ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025012011018_55c551fd62ed7dd91c2d511ab1561b76ad3805f7772cfb005bc6eeb133c479ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Reviving Nepal's craft NT"> </figure>  “It was really hard to communicate and try to sound smart in Nepali while meeting with the suppliers at first,” she recalls. The language barrier meant some suppliers did not take her seriously in a largely male-dominated society.&nbsp; Things changed when the men started noticing their professionalism. “Now, the men are much more appreciative of who we are, and we are taken more seriously,” adds Gurung. The name Riti comes from the idea of having one’s own little ritual, focusing on self-care and self-love and the Nepali term रीती रिवाज, meaning rituals. When asked if they had any advice for other entrepreneurs just starting out, Gurung says, “You have to put your head down and get to work. Stop listening to the noise outside and stay focused.” Subba pipes in: “Find what interests you, and make something beautiful out of it.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/return-to-nature">Return to nature</a>

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Reviving Nepal’s craft

Eight years ago, Buddhimaya Ghale opened a handicraft shop in Chitwan with Rs300,000. The venture is now worth Rs30 million.
Ghale had less than a modest start, her family could not afford schooling and she had to drop out after Grade 7. But then she joined a group in her village organised by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17635">Maiti Nepal </a>to spread awareness about women trafficking.
Before long, Ghale was even travelling to India to rescue young Nepali women sold to brothels there. She became deeply involved in not just rescue, but also to bring justice to victims of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/human-trafficking-patterns-changing-in-south-asia">trafficking</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/lockdown-and-the-surge-in-domestic-violence">domestic violence and abuse.</a>
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trafficked-nepali-woman-s-testimony">Trafficked Nepali woman’s testimony</a>
“I would spend all my time hounding the police and going to the courts,” recalls Ghale, now 37. “Seeing and listening to the women every day, both older and younger than me, used to cause me great pain. I even wished I was in a different line of work.”
Back in 2000, the National Trust for Nature Conservation was training people to use spinning wheels for woollen thread. Ghale enrolled and learnt handicraft.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ex-guerrilla-s-revolution-in-rural-nepal">Ex-guerrilla’s revolution in rural Nepal</a>, Bhadra Sharma
Starting in 2005, she began selling her products but soon realised that access to the market was limited and that local women needed training in refining their products and in sales. So in 2016, Ghale set up a centre to train women in handicrafts.&nbsp;
She registered the centre at Kalika Municipality as a cottage industry and named it BM Hastakala Prashichyan Udhyog (BM Handicraft Training Industry).
After training over 600 women (and five men), most have found work as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/from-heads-to-toes">Dhaka fabric </a>weavers or in the carpet industry. Others are involved in the eco-friendly business of turning waste material like chicken feathers and plastic bottles into gifts and handicrafts.
“We started from 10 people, now we have 600, many of them from underprivileged families,” says Ghale.&nbsp;
Previously, the women used to gather firewood from the forest and sell it in the nearby market. If they were lucky, they could sell it in the market to buy food for the day. Now the women make as much as Rs30,000 a month after being trained at the centre.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/how-art-empowers-nepal-s-women">How art empowers Nepal’s women</a>, Anita Bhetwal
Initially, women faced resistance from their families for leaving to work outside the home, and the women themselves were skeptical. Now, Ghale has women as old as 70 at the centre, supplementing their families’ income.
“Even women from well-off households are treated as subordinates and are entirely dependent on their husbands or in-laws,” adds Ghale. “They are beaten if they assert themselves. When women have no money of their own, they get no respect. Income makes all the difference, and gives women power.”
BM Hastakala provides women with raw materials and machines to make woollen goods, Dhaka clothing, shopping bags and more. The products are then exported to more than 10 countries including Japan, India and China.
Having left school at such a young age, Ghale had thought she would not get to complete her education. But following financial and social success, she has enrolled in school again.
After a ten-year hiatus, Ghale joined eighth grade and just passed high school. “I was never more satisfied than when I completed school,” she says.
Ghale was honoured with the Women Entrepreneur Award from Bagmati Provincial Government in 2019, and in 2021 the best cottage industry entrepreneur in the Bagmati Province by the Ministry of Industry, Commerce and Supplies.
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/kesha-kumari-damini-awarded-by-norwegian-business-for-peace-foundation,1356">Empowerment through entrepreneurship</a>, Marit Bakke
Headquartered in Chitwan, BM Hastakala has a branch in Kathmandu. And now, this self-made entrepreneur wants to train more women so that they have economic independence to become their own person. She says: “The target is to increase the number of skilled women to 2,000 every year so the income empowers them.” &nbsp;

Weaving dreams for women

For Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal the past week has been eventful in more ways than one. His Home Minister Rabi Lamichhane’s troubles is shaking the coalition, and there are rumours of the NC and the UML in talks. By-elections in Ilam and Bajhang are set to become a referendum on legacy parties.&nbsp;
In the midst of all this, there was the overnight state visit of the emir of Qatar which was so epic the government declared a national holiday. Qatar and Nepal signed a commerce agreement, and to sweeten the deal the emir was gifted two elephants.&nbsp;
The Qatari visit set the stage for the third Nepal Investment Summit on 28-29 April that will showcase 150 projects for potential investors, including schemes for hydropower, transport, tourism, and agriculture.
Previous investment summits in 2017 and 2019 pledged $13.5 billion and $17 billion respectively, of which not much ever materialised. This time, the investment climate is worse because of political instability, too few laws, and too much red tape. &nbsp;
“The state of Nepal’s economy, combined with bureaucratic hurdles and the challenges faced by foreign investors in land and resource acquisition, has made attracting FDI difficult,” says Pushkar Bajracharya, formerly of &nbsp;the National Planning Commission.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-looks-at-alternative-investments">Nepal looks at alternative investments</a>, Siddhant Raj Pandey
The same woes from the last two investment summits persist. Nepal has had three coalition governments in the last two years, banks are flush with cash because no one is borrowing, &nbsp;and there is a mass exodus of skilled Nepalis.&nbsp;
“Lack of political stability results in policy instability,” explains economist Posh Raj Pandey. “This is why Nepal’s FDI has not lived up to commitments. Potential investors have decided that internal risk factors outweigh any business opportunities.”&nbsp;
Everyone went to sleep after the last investment summit, and there was little preparation for this hurriedly planned one. Nepal’s private sector has long urged the government to amend laws to improve the investment climate. The government did amend nine out of dozens of laws, but through ordinance on Tuesday. &nbsp;
“What kind of message are we sending to internationals when we amend laws through ordinance rather than Parliament?" asks Pandey. “Amendment will not inspire confidence unless they are put into practice, which we historically have not done.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/invest-in-investment">Invest in investment</a>, Nepali Times
While some experts think ordinances speed things up, they admit most legal changes brought to address Nepal's investment environment have been ad hoc and limited to paper.
Forget foreign investors, even domestic businesses face obstacles and corruption. Nepal’s internet service providers (ISPs) and the Nepal Telecommunication Authority are on the warpath.&nbsp;
ISPs have been unable to pay Indian firms that provide &nbsp;bandwidth after the government refused to provide them with INR, citing unpaid royalties and taxes.
Such stonewalling is present in just about every sector, dissuading investors in IT, banking and the service industry. Most investors are in natural resource extraction, which has little value added.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/invest-in-investment">Invest in investment</a>, Nepali Times
This time the government is &nbsp;giving investors a shopping list that includes 18 hydropower projects and 19 transport schemes.&nbsp;
“While hydropower may create short-term jobs, efficiency-seeking investment in the manufacturing, agricultural, and other sectors will create more long-term opportunities for Nepalis, and will be in our best interest,” says Pandey. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Although the summit will have attendees from over 50 countries, most potential investors are from India and China.
“Current investment summits seem to be guided by India and China’s vested interest in Nepal rather than the market and economic possibilities here,” notes Bajracharya. However, Nepal can leverage its proximity to hitch its wagons to these two giant locomotives.&nbsp;
Adds Bajracharya “Our long-term prospects look good, because India and China are set to overtake the US as the world's biggest economies over the next few years, which will attract investors from elsewhere. Our immediate goal must be to first create a conducive investment climate. After that, investments will come.” &nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/killing-investment-in-nepal-in-10-easy-steps">Killing investment in Nepal in 10 easy steps</a>, Dibesh Karmacharya

Shristi Karki

Why invest in Nepal?

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f899c7e80680e04fd11jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byB2UFWlCs4&amp;feature=youtu.beWhen actress, fashion designer and, more recently, the director of her debut film #Horror, Tara Subkoff, popularised the term ‘upcycling’, she may not have known that she was launching a new fashion trend. Even in faraway Nepal.Young, idealistic Nepali social entrepreneurs may have borrowed the word, but they have gone beyond the world of fashion to craft items for everyday household use repurposed from products that would otherwise be discarded at landfill sites. The idea is not just to be trendy and smart, but also to address growing environmental concerns among customers about garbage, pollution and consumerism.In this centrefold, Nepali Times profiles some companies that have upscaled upcycling to a whole new level.<h2>Shailee Crafts</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f8c9c7e80680e04fd12jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1350">PHOTOS: SHAILEE CRAFTSAfter water buffaloes are converted into momos, their innards are often discarded by the banks of Kathmandu’s rivers, where kites, crows and dogs pick at them, while their bones are ground into powdered <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/getting-our-shit-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">fertiliser</a>.But lately, some of the horns and bones are collected from butcher shops and taken to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG-de1eofhM&amp;t=9s&amp;fbclid=IwAR01xSi7CBBWUnHIHBQ_4KNnc1xArLG-P0BHnDz0ZOhmVzw1OH6Re_kojZ0" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shailee Crafts</a>, where they are turned into carved figures, pendants and buttons.Shailee was set up by the father of Success Dhamala and his brother Shailesh to make handicraft items that had a strangely Polynesian look. In 2013, years after their father’s shop went out of business, Success and Shailesh revived the business to sell modern items with ethnic designs, made from natural and sustainable materials.Their raw material of choice: buffalo horns and bones. The raw materials are gathered, cleaned, cut, shaped and carved by the steady hands of local artisans, who use traditional Nepali tools to fashion intricate Maori designs like the Pikorua (twist), Toki or Hei-Matau (fish hook). Buttons and statues are made with keen attention given to minute details, each ridge and curve carved with precision.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f8e9c7e80680e04fd13jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="800"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f919c7e80680e04fd14jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1620"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f949c7e80680e04fd15jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="800">Shailee Crafts also makes pendants based on Game of Thrones themes, with the sigils of House Stark, Targaryen and Greyjoy. And beyond the traditional Pacific or pop culture designs, the brothers also turn buffalo bones into quirky buttons with geometric cutouts and unorthodox patterns.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f969c7e80680e04fd16jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1350"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f999c7e80680e04fd17jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1080"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f9c9c7e80680e04fd18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="720" height="900">Although upcycling bones and horns is new to Nepal, pendants made from carved bones have been an integral part of Polynesian and Maori culture for centuries. Leftover bones from animals have been used to create traditional jewellery, like fish hook pendants, or hunting tools, like spears.“When we first started using buffalo bones for pendants, we were just following what they do elsewhere, but we realised we were also reducing <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15234#.XTBlpfIzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu’s waste </a>by upcycling,” says Success Dhamala.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4f9f9c7e80680e04fd19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1080">Prayer beadsShailee Crafts uses natural products like hemp and recycled fabric for the buffalo bone necklaces, adding a modern feel to traditional Tibetan prayer beads and ensuring that horns and bones do not come from buffaloes that have been sacrificed.The store also conducts weekly carving workshops on Sundays, where visitors can hone their skills carving horns with traditional tools.<h2>Lahana Paper Crafts</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fa19c7e80680e04fd1ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="193" height="257"> PHOTOS: LAHANA PAPERPaper makes up 9% of Kathmandu’s household waste and 23% of commercial waste. Although discarded in landfills, much of this is actually recyclable.Co-Founder Ramita Maharjan first got the idea for Lahana Paper Crafts while an undergrad at Kathmandu University. She learnt to turn discarded paper into baskets and jewellery, and today, the company employs women and reduces paper waste in the city.At Lahana, newspapers, magazines, school books, invitation cards, calendars, brochures and comic books are transformed into colourful earrings, necklaces, bracelets, pens, even laundry baskets. Discarded paper is gathered and shredded into strips, and rolls of paper are turned into ‘beads’ and attached to metal pieces, or woven into baskets.The work is done by local women, who sit in a circle chatting away as their nimble fingers skilfully weave rolls of paper around waste baskets or cut up old magazines and newspapers faster than a machine. Maharjan makes sure that the women are paid well and given meals and transportation fees.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fa49c7e80680e04fd1bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1242" height="1191"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fa79c7e80680e04fd1cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1242" height="1164">Like any other upcycling business, Lahana Paper Crafts also faces difficulties in convincing customers to buy its products. Many in Kathmandu still doubt the durability of the products, even though they are sturdy. Besides, it is the thought of being less wasteful that counts.Today, Lahana has buyers from all over Nepal and even abroad. Maharjan also holds workshops to train people interested in making paper accessories.She adds, “Our products are becoming more popular because they are handicrafts and they help manage paper waste.”<h2>Taalo</h2>When clothing items like saris, t-shirts, kurtas and shawls are made, unused fabric is just thrown away. Sujhan Ghimire set up Taalo to repurpose these scraps into wearable fashion items. He designs all the products himself and has curated a line of brightly coloured ties and bow-ties, scrunchies, headbands and scarves, all within the Rs120-200 price range.From silks to chiffons and Lycra to cotton, Taalo’s products are made from a variety of available and usable fabric.To reduce fabric waste, the business has also partnered with textile factories, clothes manufacturers and even tailors to upcycle and recycle their scrap.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4faa9c7e80680e04fd1djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="758" height="1132">PHOTO: ABHILASHA SHRESTHAAt first, Ghimire found it hard to convince consumers to buy his products. Many were sceptical about upcycling and believed the products were made from used clothes. After an awareness campaign to explain that the fabrics were never worn, sales boomed.Now in its second year of operations, Taalo has a consumer base that runs from teenagers to environmentally-conscious adults. The company’s popularity is also a result of growing consumer consciousness among Kathmandu citizens, who see a lot of trash lying about. People are becoming more aware of sustainable alternatives to products that they want to buy.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fac9c7e80680e04fd1ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="1334">PHOTO: TAALOGhimire’s venture is not only environmentally conscious, but also socially aware. The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12487#.XTBm__IzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kamlari </a>women from Nepalganj who manufacture Taalo’s products are paid an extra Rs2 for every product that they make, in addition to their daily wages.“People are becoming more aware about what they are spending money on and where the products come from,” Ghimire explains. “At Taalo, they can buy things they want knowing that they are helping both women from underprivileged backgrounds and the environment.”Ghimire says he now wants to expand Taalo’s upscaled product line to include bracelets and even backpacks.<h2>Tatwa</h2>In the last fiscal year, Nepal imported 10 million bottles of alcohol. While some of them are recycled, many cannot be rebottled in Nepal and end up as shards of glass on the banks of rivers and around <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/recycle-reuse-reduce-garbage-kathmandu,1279" target="_blank" rel="noopener">landfill sites</a>.Doko Recyclers has been collecting garbage house-to-house in Kathmandu to covert organic waste into fertiliser and recycle other material. Now, it has launched a new brand for upcycled products called Tatwa, which takes unrecyclable imported beer, wine and liquor bottles and converts them into candle holders, drinking glasses, tumblers, glass containers and even toothpick holders. Tatwa has so far repurposed over 6,000 imported bottles collected from households, restaurants and hotels around the country.Discarded bottles are first thoroughly cleaned and sterilised before being cut down by industrial machines. Then comes the time-consuming, labour-intensive sanding and finishing phase to give the products a smooth texture. With Tatwa’s minimalistic and logoless designs, the finished products barely resemble the alcohol bottles they once were.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4faf9c7e80680e04fd1fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4142" height="3100"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fb29c7e80680e04fd20jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1444" height="960"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fb59c7e80680e04fd21jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="1500">Says Tatwa’s Shivani Saria, “We rethink each item considered to be waste, where it comes from, what its source element is and how a thoughtful recovery of those items would mean valuing the environment and understanding waste from a new perspective.”Tatwa means ‘element’ in Nepali, and Saria says the venture is all about focusing on the importance of understanding waste as a resource that has lost utility in its present form. Beyond blue and green-hued glass products, Tatwa is also working on items like metal straws, bamboo toothbrushes and reusable cloth bags. It hopes to create an entire range of sustainable upcycled products to replace objects of daily use.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fb89c7e80680e04fd22jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="750">PHOTOS: TATWASaria says, “Recycling in Nepal is a new industry and there are not many recycling facilities, which is why we have to explore options in upcycling, turning non-recyclable and difficult to recycle <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/reusing-waste,1280" target="_blank" rel="noopener">waste </a>items into products that can re-enter the market. With upcycling, we reduce waste that would otherwise end up in the landfill with creative business ventures that also generate jobs.”<h2>Dhaasoo</h2>When Dhaasoo was established in 2015, no one in Kathmandu really knew what upcycling was. Four years later, Dhaasoo has changed the game for reusable utilities and home decor.Dhaasoo is Bollywood movie slang that roughly translates to ‘daami’ in Nepali or ‘awesome’ in English. Founder Nitesh Sharma wanted an attention-grabbing name to draw customers to a new concept. It worked.From glass bottles to cans, car parts and even cars, Dhaasoo has upcycled and sold them all. It has upcycled hookahs, lamps, planters, book shelves and even a desk made from an Eco Sport car.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fba9c7e80680e04fd23jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="562" height="562"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fbc9c7e80680e04fd24jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="1080">Dhaasoo works on one project a day, taking requests for customised products or selling in-house designs. Customers either arrive with a product concept in mind and guide the designers, or they simply ask the company to create something new. Many of the products are therefore literally ‘priceless’.“Our products don’t have price tags because everything is made to order,” Sharma explains. “We never know what the customer will request and what it will cost.”But while Dhaasoo is becoming popular, it is not what you would call mass market. Sharma still struggles to make people understand that just because a product is upcycled it is not always cheaper, as a lot of work goes into repurposing those materials.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fbf9c7e80680e04fd25jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="758" height="611">PHOTOS: DHAASOO<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131144/636a4fc29c7e80680e04fd26jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2554" height="1937">Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Kathmandu-waste-management-problem-solution,1416" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Waste should not be wasted</a>, Bhrikuti Rai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/return-to-nature/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Return to nature</a>, Nepali Times<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/plastic-money/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Plastic money</a>, Samuel Johns<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/making-money-from-garbage-in-kathmandu,2055" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rupees from rubbish</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Upscaling Upcycling

“I don’t know if I picked jewellery, but jewellery might have picked me.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c97b9c7e80680e02f2b6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="788"/><figcaption>Ayesha Shakya</figcaption></figure>‘Jill of all trades, master of some’ is how Arpana Rayamajhi might describe herself -- there seems to be nothing the jewellery designer, model and self-made entrepreneur cannot do. The Nepali in New York has been seamlessly juggling hats, while making a name for herself and her jewellery on the world stage.Barely four years since she launched <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/%20East-meets-West%20,3152">her jewellery line</a>, Rayamajhi has been featured in Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, included in The New York Times 30-under-30 list and her jewellery adorned by the likes of supermodel Adriana Lima and Gigi Hadid on the runways of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.“I don’t know if I picked <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Be-jewelled-by-Ayusha-Shresthas-AAMO,3042">jewellery</a>, but jewellery might have picked me,” Rayamajhi tell us in a recent interview. Always creative, Rayamajhi took up painting and sculpting at The Cooper Union School of Art, and the passion to create her own jewellery grew out of necessity after graduation.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVFWlEuy65MShe explains: “I started working with <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/assimilating-generations-of-Newari-muslims,2937">beads</a> because I was broke and I couldn’t afford anything else. I was waiting tables and babysitting to earn money, but I realised if I didn’t do jewellery now, I would never do it.”Rayamajhi started off selling her designs to friends and their friends, but it wasn’t until she began modelling her jewellery herself and posting photos on Instagram that things really took off. Soon, she scored a feature on Vogue and began amassing tens of thousands of loyal followers on Instagram.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c97e9c7e80680e02f2b7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="836"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“If you don’t believe in your work, no one will. Sincerity and producing my own work was important to me,” says Rayamajhi. Indeed, it is her identity as an artist that makes her jewellery so unique and transcendent.“I am really invested in making work that shows the artists' persona and how their mind works,” explains Rayamajhi. Colourful, playful, eclectic, and incorporating quirky elements like synthetic hair, tassels and miniature idols, Rayamajhi’s jewellery defines her.It also defines how she has grown as an artist. Starting with beads, Rayamajhi made a big jump into diamond jewellery for the ‘Diamonds with a Story’ series by Australian Diamonds in January.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710110/6368c9819c7e80680e02f2b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="697"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This was the first time Rayamajhi became an art director herself, and only designed the jewellery, instead of making them herself. Always socially and environmentally conscious, she only took up the offer because the diamonds were conflict free.Rayamajhi also chooses to remain close to her Nepali roots, but incorporates elements that make her jewellery truly global. Her popularity has not gone unnoticed in Nepal, and that does come to her as a pleasant surprise.“The kind of reaction I got from the Nepali audience on the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show was amazing. Craze dekhera danga thiyei,” says Rayamajhi, breaking into Nepali to explain how she was encouraged by the reaction.Rayamajhi went back to Nepal twice last year after a gap of five years, and remembers re-seeing Kathmandu in all its beauty and chaos. She wants to have a flagship store in Nepal to encourage more artisanal talent and support a comeback for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/rebuilding-temples-a-chance-to-creat-jobs-and-to-revive-woodcarving-industry%20,2347">Nepali handicraft</a>.She adds: “I will consider myself really successful if I am able to move a generation. In the end, I want people to see me and see themselves in me. I want them to feel that if she can do it, so can I.”Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/%20East-meets-West%20,3152  ,  http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/%20East-meets-West%20,3152">East meets West</a>,  Ayesha Shakya<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Be-jewelled-by-Ayusha-Shresthas-AAMO,3042">Be jewelled</a>,  Smriti Basnet

Arpana's world of quirky jewellery

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th 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. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Sacred seed feeds boom

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

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