James Harris (‘Jim’) Simons, the mathematician and billionaire philanthropist who set up a foundation to improve Nepal’s healthcare system, died in New York on 10 May, aged 86. Jim Simons was an award-winning mathematician who pioneered quantitative investing and gave away much of his billions to support mathematics education, scientific research and various humanitarian causes. But his life was marked by family tragedies. His elder son, Paul, was killed in New York in 1996 in a traffic accident, and his younger son, Nick drowned in Bali in 2003 after a volunteering stint in Nepal.&nbsp; Nick Simons had written letters home from Nepal about his experience in rural health posts, and was determined to become a physician so he could help the underprivileged in poorer parts of the world.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="596" height="812" loading="lazy" alt="Nick Simons"> <figcaption>Nick Simons with a friend in Nepal in 2003. He died soon after while swimming in Bali.</figcaption> </figure>  After Nick’s tragic death, Jim Simons and his economist wife Marilyn travelled to Nepal several times to set up the <a href="https://www.nsi.edu.np/overview" target="_blank">Nick Simons Institute (NSI)</a> to back up government hospitals in rural areas with training, equipment and budgetary support. Since it was established in 2006, NSI has invested more than $100 million in Nepal’s health sector and now supports 45 district hospitals and health facilities. Most of the institute’s work is behind-the-scenes and not visible to the public, like its help with training nurses and anaesthesiologists, maintaining biomedical equipment, and in retaining qualified medical staff in remote rural hospitals by topping up salaries. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11436" target="_blank">Jim Simons once told Nepali Times</a>: "Rural health care is not a new problem in Nepal, and there are lots of people addressing the issue. What makes NSI unique is that it will do this job better than it has ever been done with an emphasis on quality and training.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511020552_a9bbf2070d0ace34db48799e7c76f8f18a221750b5f2bcb5fda3a87b2eb97769.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240511020552_a9bbf2070d0ace34db48799e7c76f8f18a221750b5f2bcb5fda3a87b2eb97769" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons NT"> <figcaption>Marilyn and Jim Simons in Nepal in 2012. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Indeed, the Simons made several visits to Nepal in 2003 soon after their son died, talking to health experts to see where support would be most catalytic and meaningful. They decided to do this not by running their own hospitals, but by working with the government in developing sustainable solutions in rural healthcare and scaling it up. "With the establishment of the Nick Simon's Institute in 2006, Jim was clearly a game changer for enhancement of rural health in Nepal. &nbsp;Also what is unforgettable about Jim was his amazing sense of humor in telling a story, his sharp intellect, and how he did not suffer fools lightly," says <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18356" target="_blank">Buddha Basnyat</a>, a physician who is in the executive committee of NSI. The Simons often said they would probably never have been involved in Nepal’s health sector had it not been for their son Nick, who had found fulfilment helping Nepalis and wanted to return to live and work here.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="904" height="1382" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons NT"> <figcaption>Marilyn and Jim Simons in Nepal in 2023 with Patty Weisenfeld of Nick Simons Foundation. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Jim Simons went through three phases in his life: as a mathematician, an investor and a philanthropist. As a maths professor, he found solutions that are still used to solve problems in physics and astronomy. He then set up <a href="https://www.rentec.com/Home.action?about=true" target="_blank">Renaissance Technologies</a> that used his talent in mathematics to analyse complex financial data and forecast global share markets. That is how he made billions, much of which he re-invested in improving STEM education in American schools, in exploring the universe, or trying to find the causes of autism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240515170536_5ea1f3742ee715ce95ee11a82dfcc6991be56b827f5dff8d6c58824f836763e1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240515170536_5ea1f3742ee715ce95ee11a82dfcc6991be56b827f5dff8d6c58824f836763e1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1001" height="784" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons"> <figcaption>Health expert Aruna Uprety at a school algebra class in western Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  After the death of his sons, Jim Simons sought solace in solving mathematical puzzles in his head. One morning at the leafy Summit Hotel in Kathmandu, the proof came to him in a flash of a puzzle that had bedevilled him for a long time.&nbsp; ‘Jim was an exceptional leader who did transformative work in mathematics and developed a world-leading investment company,’ the <a href="https://www.simonsfoundation.org/2024/05/10/simons-foundation-co-founder-mathematician-and-investor-jim-simons-dies-at-86/" target="_blank">Simons Foundation</a> said in a statement announcing his death on Friday.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240515170536_e4c458bcc5f9daf7d8833bb0bffc98304224be100b88cde3ade7c7ae41067cd5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240515170536_e4c458bcc5f9daf7d8833bb0bffc98304224be100b88cde3ade7c7ae41067cd5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2008" height="1396" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons"> </figure>  Besides NSI, the <a href="https://www.nicksimonsfoundation.org/" target="_blank">Nick Simons Foundation</a> was involved in other health-related activities in Nepal, including building the new <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15138" target="_blank">maternity wing at Patan Hospital</a> and supporting <a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN)</a> that runs <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-rural-lifeline" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital in Achham District.</a>&nbsp; Jim Simons once said: “Nick opened up a whole new world to us. We have met so many wonderful people who otherwise we never would have known. Nepal is a gift that Nick gave us.”

Kunda Dixit

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Jim Simons' gift to Nepal

In 2009, Samir Lama completed his MBBS and then passed all three stages of the United States Medical Licensing Examination (USMLE), making him eligible to practice in the US. However, he returned to Nepal in a year, opting to serve his own people instead. Lama pursued a three-year residency in General Medical Practice at the Teaching Hospital in Kathmandu sponsored by the Nick Simons Institute and was later placed at the District Hospital in Piuthan under a three-year contract. Eventually, at a medical college in Chitwan, Lama’s monthly salary was Rs80,000, a relatively meagre sum for someone with three years of post-MD work experience. Dissatisfied, he established his own polyclinic in Chitwan. But today, he is based in Britain, working as a resident physician in general practice. “There are difficulties living and working in Nepal,” Lama tells us by phone. “Becoming a doctor through civil service is difficult, and a physician’s life is financially challenging even in private practice.” In 2017, Murari Barakoti completed a one-year fellowship in Interventional Cardiology, and preferred to work in Singapore and the Maldives rather than stay in Nepal. He blames the lack of expertise-based remuneration in Nepal for his decision.&nbsp; “In the Maldives, doctors get ten to twenty times the pay they would normally get in Nepal,” says Barakoti, who is among 1,100 Nepali doctors working in the Maldives today. Ironically, many students from Maldives come to Nepal’s medical colleges for their education. Sandesh Parajuli, a government scholarship recipient for MBBS in Pakistan, worked for two years at Gandaki Provincial Hospital after he returned. In 2020, he took the medical officer exam at Lumbini Provincial Hospital, and the results are still pending. Tired of waiting, Parajuli completed his USMLE online and is now in the US. He says, “There is a sense of fulfilment serving patients in my own country, but the working environment in Nepal for doctors is not conducive. Of my 20 closest friends, only one is still working in Nepal.” It is generally known that young Nepalis are leaving the country by the tens of thousands every year for undergraduate studies in Australia, Canada or Japan. Less well known is this haemorrhage of doctors and nurses. <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Specialists" aria-label="Grouped Bars" id="datawrapper-chart-3jT6V" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/3jT6V/1/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="492" data-external="1"></iframe></div> The depletion of medical personnel has further weakened the country’s already fragile healthcare system, and added to the shortage of specialists. Despite an annual turnover of 2,000 to 2,500 MBBS graduates, Nepal faces a severe shortage of doctors, especially in remote parts of the country. The Nepal Medical Council (NMC) has nearly 35,000 registered doctors, including 10,588 specialists. But there is no exact figure for working professionals. A 2015 study by the Council reported that approximately 36% of doctors are working abroad, but the actual proportion is estimated to be much higher.&nbsp; Doctors planning to leave are mandatorily required to present a Good Standing Certificate (GSC), and the Medical Education Commission issued 1,025 GSCs just between April to December 2023. Commission sources say the demand for GSCs has surged in the past four years.&nbsp; The majority of Nepali doctors have chosen to migrate to the UK, with 1,578 physicians acquiring certificates since 2020. The US is the second most popular destination, with 888 Nepali doctors moving there to practice in the same period. Opportunities in Australia, UAE, Canada, and Qatar are also on the rise. Sanjeev Sapkota, president of the Non-Resident Nepali Association (NRNA), estimates that of its total membership, 5,000 are doctors and medical specialists. Many others who have migrated have not bothered to become NRNA members. Worryingly, government scholarship recipients make up a rising number of migrant physicians — depriving state-run hospitals in the country of specialists. Some doctors seek improved working conditions, while others, frustrated with unemployment or exploitation in Nepal’s private hospitals, choose to start anew. They are attracted by the promise of higher earnings, and a better future for their families. 1:150,000 Completing an MBBS degree generally takes six years, and those studying on government scholarships are obligated to work in a rural hospital for an additional two years. During this period, they have no time for further study or to sit for civil service exams. However, once the commitment is fulfilled, they are left without a paying job. “Despite some incentives for further studies after MBBS, many graduates struggle because of low salaries and uncertain future prospects,” says Shambu Khanal of the Lumbini Provincial Hospital.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240128110120_63d9c40da537cbdad3dc2307a31623607227185a5768b1999359f53cc6c17b88.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240128110120_63d9c40da537cbdad3dc2307a31623607227185a5768b1999359f53cc6c17b88" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Nepali healthcare NT"> </figure>  Postgraduate study opportunities are also hard to get due to limited annual seats of around 2,000. Additionally, a small number of subject-specific seats further complicates matters, particularly for those candidates below the top 500, barring them from pursuing preferred medical disciplines. Without government support, individuals must bear all expenses themselves, discouraging many more aspiring Nepali doctors from pursuing MD/MS degrees. This in turn is leading to a chronic shortage of specialists in Nepal. The 'Human Resources for Health (HRH) Projection in Nepal, 2079-2087' reveals a deficit of 5,779 specialists, with the annual production growth rate falling short at 6.41%, thus widening the gap in the doctor-to-population ratio. At present, there is only 1 doctor for every 850 people in the Kathmandu Valley which is better than the WHO-recommended 1 per 1,000. But this ratio goes down to 1 per 150,000 in remote districts. &nbsp;Despite depopulation of the mountain districts, there is a dire need to retain qualified medical staff in rural Nepal. The absence of diverse medical expertise, coupled with government oversight of emerging disciplines, leaves returning professionals with no acknowledgment or motivation. The country therefore faces a critical shortage of specialised doctors, particularly in cardiology, surgery, gynaecology, and neurology. A recent study by the Medical Education Commission showed a shortfall in surgeons: there are only 660 when the country needs a minimum of 808. Medical generalists face a similar deficit, with just 349 working actively against the 1,115 required. The study also foresees a demand for 1,223 medical generalists in 7 years, factoring in population growth. Doctors in specialised services in new fields face challenges due to inadequate infrastructure and equipment. Even those willing to work in government hospitals struggle to secure positions.&nbsp; Dharmagat Bhattarai, who is specialising in paediatric clinical immunology and rheumatology, says there is an urgent need for specialised doctors, especially for diagnosing and treating rare diseases in children. “After MBBS, graduates work as interns in hospitals for a year. Although hospital administrators assign them duties, they do not get adequate compensation,” says Bijay Parajuli, who specialises in pediatric critical care, rheumatology, congenital heart diseases, and neurosurgery. He adds: “In Pakistan, I received a monthly stipend of Rs44,000 after MBBS while interns in Nepal are getting only Rs9,000.” <div class="embed-block"> <iframe title="Total ‘Good Standing’ certificated from NMC" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-N0vyK" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/N0vyK/1/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="400" data-external="1"></iframe></div> Resident doctors pursuing MD/MS face a similar fate. Overworked doing hospital health check-ups, filling prescriptions, and handling ward responsibilities, their studies are often hampered—and all this for poor pay. While countries like the USA, UK, and Canada waive tuition fees for MD/MS programs, resident doctors in Nepal have to struggle for better remuneration. A government hospital resident earns an average of Rs48,000 monthly. However, those working in private medical colleges are compelled to work for less than Rs20,000. Some doctors say residents in private hospitals often have to work for 36 hours straight, multiple times a month. Vishad Dahal, an internal medicine student at Kathmandu Medical College, faced suspension for questioning a 20 extra-curricular health camp. His suspension has now been revoked. NMC’s &nbsp;'Regulations for Postgraduate Medical Education (MD-MS Programs) 2017' states that postgraduate residents should not be assigned duty for more than 24 hours per week. Typically, it takes an average of 12 years to complete MD, even after graduation. This means most doctors would not have finished their studies even in their early 30s. Moreover, the cost of private medical education is expensive and often exceeds Rs10 million. And after all that, there is still no job security, not to mention the years it takes to recover the investment. This prompts many to consider working or studying abroad. “The rise in Nepali doctors moving abroad demands urgent attention. While it may seem routine at first glance, the trend can potentially cause a scarcity of experts,” admits Shri Krishna Giri, past president of the Medical Education Commission. He adds: “Restricting doctors from seeking opportunities overseas may not be a practical solution. The challenge lies in finding a nuanced approach that recognises and addresses the multifaceted factors contributing to this exodus.” &nbsp; With additional reporting by Yugottam Koirala.

Grass is greener overseas for Nepal's doctors

Pratikshya Roka Magar was a sickly baby ever since she was born in a faraway village in Rukum district. As years went by, the girl’s spine started to bend. Her mother Namrata Roka had given up hope that her daughter would ever get better when she heard about a Japanese doctor who was conducting a mobile health camp in the village.&nbsp; Partikshya was seven years old in 2013 when Japanese physician Ryukichi Ishida examined her, and diagnosed a rare case of spinal scoliosis that ultimately affects the lungs and heart.&nbsp; Now 17, Pratikshya has undergone six major operations in which two rods were inserted to her spine to straighten it. The Japanese benefactor has since been supporting her financially, and checks up on Pratikshya routinely.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-doctors-love-for-urdu-poetry">Nepali doctor's love for Urdu poetry</a>, Abdullah Zahid  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230817070836_da4e6800792c2aba1c4f41e664f24db51fbc25142c2e41e46b77e2da9d602f29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230817070836_da4e6800792c2aba1c4f41e664f24db51fbc25142c2e41e46b77e2da9d602f29" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ryukichi Ishida NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  “He is like god for us,” says a grateful Namrata. &nbsp; Pratikshya is not the only one who has received Ishida’s healing touch in these mountains where the health system is still rudimentary, and the ravages of the Maoist conflict still linger. During voluntary work with tuberculosis control while walking through Nepal’s remotest districts in 1968 as a 21-year-old medical student, Ryukichi Ishida made a promise that he would return one day to serve the people of this country. Back in Japan, while heading the orthopaedic department at Osaka's Ueda-Shimotanabe Hospital, he constantly felt the tug of Nepal. In 2006, he left his family and a satisfying job to fulfil his pledge to return to Nepal. A question that had nagged him all those years was why medical care around the world, including in Japan and Nepal, was not more equitable. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/paul-farmer-on-my-mind">Paul Farmer on my mind</a>, Bibhav Acharya  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230817070836_6a2d16dbb69aaaf7f900a41835ca9e091d427f2de37a1411b5df7199749fcf6c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230817070836_6a2d16dbb69aaaf7f900a41835ca9e091d427f2de37a1411b5df7199749fcf6c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1494" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ryukichi Ishida NT"> <figcaption>Photo: JHUMLAWANG VILLAGE FOUNDATION NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Ishida was inspired by his physician father who also ran a clinic in the most underserved part of Japan. He has travelled through Dolakha, Jumla, Jajarkot, Rukum and Rolpa, conducting free medical camps carrying just a backpack — just like when he trekked through Nepal as an idealistic student all those years ago. He has been working at Rolpa's Jaljala Health Post since 2011, a place so remote that even Nepali health workers are reluctant to be posted there. The facility has since been turned into a hospital and research centre and is in the process of becoming a 15 bedded municipality hospital.&nbsp; The hospital has Nepali staff, but none of them stay more than a year. “The only thing constant here is Dr Ishida and his commitment to serve the people,” says Ajay Magar of the Jhumluwang Village Foundation, a non-profit that conducts health camps in collaboration with Ishida.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/the-good-doctor-0pqhzm7t">The good doctor</a>, Lisa Choegyal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230817070836_909cd240e9e4ea3b0da86e6038a2a163f6d5e9e94df5117008cbdbf0cf8946f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230817070836_909cd240e9e4ea3b0da86e6038a2a163f6d5e9e94df5117008cbdbf0cf8946f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1531" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Ryukichi Ishida NT"> <figcaption>Photo: JHUMLAWANG VILLAGE FOUNDATION NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Besides treating patients, Ishida has also supported locals like Sahanshila Buda Magar who is the first female MBBS graduate from Thawang thanks to a scholarship he provided.&nbsp; Sahanshila, 27, got her degree from Changsha Medical University in China, and is undergoing a three-month training at Patan Hospital. She plans to go back home and work at the Jaljala Hospital. &nbsp; Ishida says the staffing challenges of remote area facilities in places like Rolpa can only be met by producing their own crop of young doctors with a commitment to the place they belong.&nbsp; Despite his years of experience as an orthopaedic surgeon, Ishida believes in integrating modern medical practices with traditional healing, especially for bone-setting and birthing. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-far-sighted-eye-care">Nepal's far-sighted eye care</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230817070836_03aa6692c46a7850cb8d05acb0e89f7928a5dab973fcfa466ab9417fcd85c165.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230817070836_03aa6692c46a7850cb8d05acb0e89f7928a5dab973fcfa466ab9417fcd85c165" data-rendition-name="original" width="3711" height="2770" loading="lazy" alt="Ryukichi Ishida NT"> <figcaption>Photo courtesy: RYUKICHI ISHIDA</figcaption> </figure>  The only reward Ishida has for his work is the respect and affection of Thawang's people. Villagers refer to him simply as “हाम्रो डाक्टर” (our doctor) — indicating they have ownership over a surgeon who they consider to be rightfully theirs. That same recognition is not reflected in the way the Nepali state regards Ishida. Now 76, and increasingly frail, Ishida has applied unsuccessfully for honorary Nepali citizenship. His visa requires Ishida to make frequent expensive trips back to Japan, and says he no longer wants to go back and forth.&nbsp; When he is away on his visa run, Rolpa’s villagers count the days for Ishida’s return so they can be treated. The surgeon does not take a salary, lives frugally and depends on the Jaljala Hospital for food and lodging.&nbsp; “I was born in Kobe, but I want to die here in Thawang,” says the soft-spoken Ishida. “This is my home now.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-eye-for-two-eyes">An eye for two eyes</a>, Yugottam Koirala

Pinki Sris Rana

The barefoot doctor of Rolpa

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.