Journalist, environmental activist and pioneer of Nepal’s community radio movement, Bhairab Risal has died at age 97 at a hospital in Kathmandu.
Risal’s journalism career took him from being chief reporter at the national news agency RSS to hosting a regular studio talk on Radio Sagarmatha, Nepal’s first community radio station. He spoke extempore from the studio about everything from plastic pollution to the need to address the concerns of senior citizens.
When not in a newsroom or radio studio, he would be roaming to the remotest parts of the country promoting initiatives to fund schooling for underserved children in Dolakha, or paying for farming families in Humla to install solar lights. He was perhaps the only Nepali journalist who had been to all of Nepal’s 77 districts.
Risal was born in 1927 in the Tikathali village of Bhaktapur, where he lived all his life. While working for the official news agency, he was jailed for criticising the Panchayat system, and kept a diary while in detention which he later published as साधुलाई सुली (Skewered Saint).
Once released from jail, he joined Bhaktapur’s Nepal Workers’ Peasants’ Party in the 1991 parliamentary elections, but lost by only 1,300 votes. It is intriguing to speculate what would have happened to Bhaktapur and Nepal today had he won that election.&nbsp;
He then turned into an environmental activist and was one of the leading figures in the Nepal Forum of Environmental Journalists (NEFEJ). A guru to many of us younger journalists, Bhairab Dai (as he was fondly known) demanded the same professional high standards and integrity from us that he practiced himself.
Once in 1967, Risal was sent to cover a press conference by visiting UN Secretary General U Thant. This was before recording devices, and not knowing a word of English, Risal transcribed what U Thant said in English into his notebook in phonetic Devnagari and got someone back in the newsroom to translate it into Nepali. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11605" target="_blank">He told this newspaper in 2000</a> on his 75th birthday: “I think it is the company of enthusiastic young journalists that re-energises me all the time. I feel younger every day.” Indeed, Risal was actively lecturing and writing well into his 90s, until his physical health started declining in the past two years. His Radio Sagarmatha interviews with seniors has been published as <a href="https://thuprai.com/author/bhairav-risal/?srsltid=AfmBOoo106kEP21yLaip836nEZBqeZDX_nAt1vVj5GoJBRPOHYReRhbP" target="_blank">उहिले बाजेको पालामा</a> (In the Time of our Grandfathers).&nbsp;
After hearing that Nepal’s medical colleges imported corpses from India, Risal and his wife Sushila willed that their bodies be donated to medical science at Patan Hospital. Although always hard up, Risal would mobilise funds for initiatives like a trust fund for married women students, raising money or for lighting up homes in remote parts of Nepal with solar-powered batteries.
Rsial was deputed to far-western Nepal as an enumerator for the 1961 national census, and wrote about his experience for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remembering-the-1961-census" target="_blank">Nepali Times in 2021</a>. He collected household data in the villages of Gunji, Nabi and Kuti in the disputed Limpiyadhura region on the Indian border that was historically a part of Nepal.
‘The fact that the government of Nepal had actually conducted a census there in 1961 has been cited as irrefutable proof that the territory east of the main channel of the Kali River has always been a part of Nepal,’ Risal wrote.
He launched the Light Up Humla campaign while the Maoist conflict was raging, and when the roadless district in Nepal’s northwestern tip still did not have electricity. The initiative provided solar-powered lights for 7,000 households in a district where people used sooty pine resin lamps for indoor lighting. This caused respiratory infections, and was a major cause of death of babies and children in a district with the highest infant mortality rate in Nepal.&nbsp;
Risal’s plan was to raise money from 7,000 donors in Nepal and abroad, as he <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=188" target="_blank">explained to this newspaper</a>: ‘We will ask one Nepali who enjoys the benefits of modern electricity to support another who is living in darkness.’ The plan worked.
I visited Humla with Bhairab Dai in 2006 to report on his solar light campaign. The conflict had just ended, and it was clear that the war had pushed the region’s development behind. An under construction hydropower plant on a tributary of the Karnali was abandoned because of the violence and the district was in darkness.&nbsp;
In the village of Langduk, a day’s walk from Simkot, Gore Sunwar was emotional to finally meet the man who had brought a lamp to light the darkness of households in his Dalit neighbourhood.&nbsp;
I remember him holding Bhairab Dai’s hands, and saying: “You are the only one who thought of us poor people, no one else did. My children are in school, they can finish their homework at night and they are not coughing anymore.”&nbsp;
Later, on the trail back to Simikot, Bhairab Dai told me that raising money was the easy part. The hard part was to make it sustainable with training and backup support. &nbsp;
Bhairab Risal was a recipient of many awards, including the Jagadamba Shree lifetime achievement prize in service of the Nepali language.&nbsp;
Read Nepali Times # 299 from 26 May 2006 in PDF <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_299.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.

Kunda Dixit

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

Bhairab Dai’s shining light

<figure><img width="2016" height="1512" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3c59c7e80680e07bb60jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>An empty Nepali Times physical newsroom this week as editorial functions are distributed to journalists working out of home. Photo: NEPALI TIMES </figcaption></figure>Binaj Gurubacharya was in full protective gear, and stood apart from the crowd to observe riot police clash with protesters at the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/police-stop-patan-chariot-pulling-citing-covid-19/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/police-stop-patan-chariot-pulling-citing-covid-19/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599710304883000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGIuYZPchNEGpuS_jMbLR_NOORT_Q">Machhindranath chariot</a> festival on 3 September in Patan.  As the Nepal correspondent for the international news agency Associated Press for the past 25 years, he is used to covering conflict and violence. But reporting on Covid-19 has been a completely different kind of professional hazard.   “No story is worth risking your life for,” said Gurubacharya, whose news stories from Nepal’s war, earthquake and political upheavals have been used by the media all over the world. Reporters like Gurubacharya cannot do their work sitting at home, they have to be right there to witness events first hand. And while he can stand back to look at events unfold from afar, photojournalists and videographers have to get as close to the action as possible. Which is why more than 40 journalists across Nepal have so far tested positive for the novel coronavirus.But the pandemic has affected the work of journalists in other ways. An informal Nepali Times poll through a written questionnaire of nearly 60 journalists this week showed almost half as having their salaries cuts, and most said that job insecurity, financial strain and working from home had hampered their motivation. Although journalists are allowed to move about with their press passes during the past six months of lockdown, most work out of home because they have elderly relatives at and do not want to risk spreading the infection. Many respondents said this had increased pressure on them to turn in meaningful stories for their readers.     Worries about jobs, getting salaries on time, the risk of infection during reporting, as well as maintaining high journalistic standards have added to the mental stress faced by journalists. Two in every three respondents in the survey said they faced uncertainty about their careers.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-journalists-are-also-on-the-frontlines/">Nepal's journalists are also on the frontlines</a>, Nepali Times <figure><img width="4110" height="2912" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3c99c7e80680e07bb61jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A Kathmandu Post journalist giving a swab sample for PCR test in August. Photo courtesy: SHRUTI SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>Ramesh Bista of the Federation of Nepali Journalists (FNJ) sounded busy and distracted even during a telephone interview this week while describing how overwhelming it has been for many of the union’s members. “We are trying to help journalists, while at the same time also negotiate better terms with their owners and for some kind of relief. However, most media companies decided to cut their losses too early to save themselves, and did not address the welfare of their employees,” Bista says. One of the first high profile casualties of the crisis in Nepal’s media was Hari Bahadur Thapa, the editor of Annapurna Post daily, who resigned in May, citing differences with management over salary cuts and layoffs of his colleagues. “I could not be enjoying the perks while my news team suffered, I had to quit,” Thapa told Nepali Times. Since then, there have been many other layoffs and resignations. Thapa agrees that some media companies used the Covid-19 crisis as an excuse to cut costs by laying off employees. He says: “The management could have continued to pay salaries via their other investments, but many of them did not display basic morals and learn humanitarian standards.”<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/journalism-is-not-a-crime/">Journalism is not a crime...</a>, Namrata SharmaMany journalists who filled out the questionnaire for the survey spoke off the record about how their work has changed. One reporter wrote: ‘Journalists should get their pay on time and other facilities whether it is a pandemic or not. Media houses cannot curtail the rights of journalists on the pretext of the pandemic.’At a time when the media’s role is more important than ever to disseminate information to the public about preventive measures against the coronavirus, to correct falsehoods especially on social media, and to prevent panic, it is the media companies themselves and reporters who are fighting for survival. With people locked up at home, the use of social media platforms has shot up. While most of it is for entertainment apps like TikTok and YouTube, there are also many dubious sites spreading rumours and unverified information.“There is a lot of news in the mainstream press also that has caused confusion and panic, and that is because we cannot get hold of sources or government officials, and telephone conversations will never bring out originality and depth as a field report does,” says <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/author/janakraj-sapkota" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Janakraj Sapkota</a>, an investigative journalist at the daily Kantipur.<a href="https://youtu.be/L7-w7_jXD1E">Shooting a lockdown</a>, Nepali Timeshttps://youtu.be/L7-w7_jXD1EIndeed, nearly all respondents said working from home, they were not satisfied with their own journalistic output. Of the nearly 60 journalists surveyed, 50 said they suffered Covid-19 fatigue, and reporting on the daily statistics of the number of new cases and daily fatalities was becoming monotonous. There is another aspect of their work that is stressing out journalists: becoming easy targets for online trollers. Many reporters, especially women, say they have faced much more abuse and backlash for their stories than they did before the pandemic. Sabina Shrestha, reporter at the portal, Setopati, suffered that first hand for her reporting on Rato Machindranath last week. “I don’t know why people have become so angry, the hate mongering tweets are toxic, but I personally don’t let it affect me. For us journalists, we should just avoid such platforms and not let them get at us,” she says.Nearly one-fourth of the respondents in the survey said they got little support or feedback from their editors. Partly, this was because the reporters are working from home, but there appears to be a communication gap with the desk.‘It's becoming more one-sided, we don't know what our senior editors want, and how they see our articles and what they think about it,’ wrote one reporter. ‘Often times, it's only when something goes wrong that we get to hear from them. There is no editorial direction or guidance.’We put that to the editor of Nagarik daily Guna Raj Luitel, who replied that editors also have their hands full with editorial and managerial chores, but underlined the importance of good two-way communication with reporters. “The reporters are working under a lot of stress, which is why the editor’s role is even more important. We have to help them get connected to their sources, and ease their workload,” Luitel told us.<hr/> Selected comments from the Nepali Times survey questionnaire: ‘We journalists at the moment are frontliners, earlier, we used to meet people, have a long conversation/discussion the issues to be covered. We could actually have a face to face conversation, which means we could grill them and ask follow up questions. We used to travel places and meet new people. We used to attend seminars, training, and discussions. After Covid-19, we are confined in a room.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3cd9c7e80680e07bb62png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘As a journalist, you want to be on the ground speaking with your sources and witnessing the issue you are reporting on first hand. Covid-19 has greatly limited our ability to do so,’ wrote another reporter. ‘Now we have to take calculated risks. This affects not just the quality of our work but also our motivation level. But the story needs to be told, so we adapt and use the resources available.’  <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3cf9c7e80680e07bb63png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘Before, it was more engaging and the possibility to do stories was endless. Now, we have to stay in our homes, seek ideas and only do stories that are possible during the lockdown.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3d09c7e80680e07bb64png.png" title="" alt=""> ‘On most days, I feel like we have been grounded, as we don't know which offices are open and which are not. We don't know the timings of people. In an office space, it's easier to get in touch with sources more easily because you can map them through discussion and on the basis of who may know whom. But when working from home, you spend more time looking at your phone and messaging people and waiting to hear from them so that you can finally reach your source. And most people prefer talking over the phone or the internet, but the connection is always a problem.’ <img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915114/636bb3d09c7e80680e07bb65png.png" title="" alt="">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lockdown-puts-nepals-media-in-intensive-care/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Lockdown puts Nepal's media in intensive care</a>, Raju Baskota

Pandemic stress grips Nepal’s journalists

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

The Himalayan mountains are also known as the Third Pole because it is the largest repository of water stored as ice outside the two polar regions. However, it is divided by political boundaries that nature does not recognise – be it the air pollutants that flow or migratory birds that fly over the peaks. The Himalaya is also a geopolitical and climate change hot spot. In these geopolitically and environmentally challenging times, it becomes even more important to create oases of conversations, where candid and future-oriented discussions can take place at a people-to-people level. Platforms dominated by inter-governmental agencies have been able to do little. The Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) aims to be a platform that stands at the crossroads of climate, community, and connectivity, fostering dialogue and promoting citizen-led action. Growing up in the Indian Himalayan town of Kalimpong and spending the nascent stages of my career helping in setting up offices of the award-winning Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) that fostered community involvement in conservation, I have witnessed transformations both good and bad.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5559" height="3711" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  There are initiatives like Nepal’s forest cover doubling in 30 years, or Bhutan’s drive for high-end sustainable tourism. At the same time, I have seen landscapes destroyed by bulldozers and tall buildings competing for air and sunlight in expanding cities. From crony capitalists patronised by political leaders engaged in plundering natural resources to citizen-led initiatives on cleanliness drives and waste management, the Himalayan region is full of stories from both ends of the spectrum of disappointment and hope. Life is about observing and, in one’s little sphere of influence, taking baby steps towards catalysing positive transformation. This is why, Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) had been hosting the Himalayan Consensus Summit in Nepal from 2014 to 2020 following which the Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) was incubated since 2023. HFF is an initiative to encourage multi-faceted dialogues on the topics of climate, community, and connectivity in the Himalayan region by bringing together leaders, experts, institutions, and practitioners from different countries and sectors.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09" data-rendition-name="original" width="5364" height="3581" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  In this year’s edition, there are a series of sessions on 6 February with 34 speakers including ten international panelists. On day two the Himalayan Haat aims to showcase a variety of local, indigenous, and sustainable products. As in 2024, it is believed that the conversations and interactions at the HFF will lead to more partnerships and collaborations from climate financing to managing disasters to taking Himalayan brands global. YOUNG FELLOWS Beyond this, there are sessions on topics such as geopolitics and the Himalaya, as well as on migration which are especially relevant considering the past few years that have seen many events which impacted the global world order. One of the key features of HFF, guided by our ethos of bringing together experts, experiences, and enthusiasm, is also to ensure stronger youth representation through the HFF Youth Fellowship. This year, following a rigorous screening process, youth fellows were selected out of an overwhelming response. Those chosen will be able to attend the events as well as collaborate in future research and publications. Selected fellows will also be provided with full scholarships to the public policy program at Takshashila Institution, an independent centre for research and education in public policy in Bangalore. In a region where half of the population is under 25 years, it is important to get the future generations also in the room.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="5273" height="3520" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  Nepal presents an ideal location to hold meetings such as this, where no-holds-barred conversations can take place face-to-face. The country has good air connectivity and one of the most liberal visa policies in Asia. And while Davos is a good example to follow for convening global voices, we need not have so many private planes burning fossil fuel, as we can have participants take scheduled commercial flights or have regional participants simply take a road trip. Ultimately, the Himalayan region is also about festivities. No exchange of ideas is complete without immersing in art, culture, culinary experiences, and music. This is why HFF envisages graduating to a Himalayan Jatra, rooted in a region where people smile from the heart, and teach the world to smile with them. Join us at HFF 2026 as we move closer to this vision. See the schedule <a href="file:///Z:/%231297%20February%206/pix/page%209/HFF%202026%20Program%20Schedule%20(1)_compressed.pdf">here</a>. Sujeev Shakya is Chair of Nepal Economic Forum and Convenor of the Himalayan Future Forum.

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

When I landed in Kathmandu last November, I arrived with a Diwali hangover. Not the festive kind, but the coughing, dust-coated, throat-scratching kind gifted by North India’s winter air. After a decade of breathing in Delhi’s seasonal gas chamber, my lungs were in an open revolt. But within days of landing in Kathmandu, my cough vanished. It felt almost miraculous. The air was crisper. The Air Quality Index was kinder, and the Himalayan peaks rose on the horizon.&nbsp;
But by the third week, the familiar grey veil returned. First as a faint blur, then peak by peak the Himalaya began to disappear. Locals said it had been getting worse every year.&nbsp;
Much of this haze is not Kathmandu’s doing. What drifts into Nepal each winter is a toxic spillover from the plains of North India and Pakistan: black carbon, brown clouds, and fine particulate matter carried across borders by seasonal winds. Kathmandu’s bowl-shaped valley simply traps what the region exhales.
Abid Omar, founder of the <a href="https://pakairquality.com/" target="_blank">Pakistan Air Quality Initiative</a>, put it bluntly: “We often view air pollution and climate change as separate silos, but in the Himalaya, they are one and the same.”
Black carbon is essentially soot from diesel emissions, brick kilns, and crop burning. It may be short-lived in the atmosphere, but when ash settles on snow and ice, it reduces reflectivity and accelerates melting.&nbsp;
Omar adds, “Black carbon is a threat to the water security of the entire Indus and Ganges basins.”
What burns on both sides of Punjab do not stay in Punjab. It ends up on glaciers that feed rivers, sustaining hundreds of millions of people downstream.
In November 2024, AQI levels in New Delhi hovered near 500 and about the same time Lahore briefly became the world’s most polluted city, with the AQI count crossing 1,100. These numbers are not abstract.
According to the <a href="https://www.stateofglobalair.org/resources/archived/state-global-air-report-2024" target="_blank">State of Global Air 2024 report</a>, India recorded more than 2 million deaths attributable to air pollution in 2023. Bangladesh and Pakistan each saw over 200,000 deaths. Air pollution is now one of the leading causes of premature death across South Asia.
Nepal, often imagined as cleaner by default, tells a sobering story of its own. Air pollution in Nepal led to an estimated <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2025/06/17/air-pollution-is-the-number-one-health-risk-factor-in-nepal#:~:text=Vehicle%20Emissions:%20Continuing%20to%20electrify,airflows%20carry%20pollutants%20across%20borders." target="_blank">48,500 premature deaths</a>, with the loss of more than 1.4 million disability-adjusted life years. The University of Chicago’s <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/post/nepal-capital-chokes-as-wildfires-rage-en" target="_blank">Air Quality Life Index</a> estimates that particulate pollution cuts 3.4 years off the life of the average Nepali. In the Tarai region, life expectancy drops by nearly five years. In Kathmandu, residents lose 2.6 years.
Says infectious disease specialist Anup Subedee: “Air pollution is killing at a far higher rate than Covid-19 did during its worst years in Nepal. People are dying in their twenties of cancer, or having heart attacks and strokes in their thirties and forties.”
Nearly <a href="https://www.icimod.org/press-release/kathmandu-choked-on-polluted-air-for-75-of-the-last-90-days/?utm_source=chatgpt.com" target="_blank">40 per cent of winter particulate pollution in the Kathmandu</a> valley originates outside Nepal. Black carbon carried from Punjab, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh in India, besides parts of Pakistan, rides the winds north, settles on Himalayan snow, and accelerates glacier melt by absorbing heat.
“The pollutants travel across borders within shared airsheds, creating one gigantic plume of polluted air over India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan several times a year,” says Subedee.
In some Himalayan regions, <a href="https://www.icimod.org/success-stories/chapter-2/black-carbon-and-glacier-melt/" target="_blank">scientists estimate</a> that black carbon can increase localised melt rates by up to 30%. Yet global climate negotiations continue to treat glacial loss primarily as a carbon dioxide problem.&nbsp;
CHINA’S APPROACH
The South Asian story is transboundary, and more immediate as well as more preventable. This is not only about emissions. It is about coordination, and China offers an instructive contrast.
Since 2013, China has dramatically improved its air quality by declaring a '<a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/12/12/what-new-delhi-can-learn-from-chinas-war-on-air-pollution#:~:text=In%20the%20following%20years%2C%20Beijing,29.3%CE%BCg%2Fm%C2%B3%20in%202024." target="_blank">war on pollution</a>'. A major air pollutant, suspended PM2.5 levels fell sharply through strict controls on coal, vehicles, and industry, massive investment in renewables, and legally binding national action plans.
Crucially, China shifted from city-by-city firefighting to a regional airshed approach. Provinces shared data, coordinated emergency responses, enforced unified standards, and tied environmental performance to political accountability. South Asian countries have done none of this.
Isolated national actions are insufficient when pollution itself ignores borders. India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan share the same airshed. Without cooperation, each country keeps breathing its neighbour’s mistakes.
“As the government representing the largest population affected by air pollution, India should lead this effort. Instead, the region has drifted away from cooperation, and the cost is becoming catastrophic,” Subedee says.
The haze over Kathmandu is not only Nepal’s burden. It is a <a href="https://sapannews.com/2024/12/27/could-climate-diplomacy-be-the-googly-a-gamechanger-for-regional-cooperation/" target="_blank">regional failure</a>. The melting of South Asia’s glaciers is not just a global warming story. It is also a local one, written in the smoke rising from our own fields, factories, and highways.
If we keep ignoring black carbon, the Himalayas will keep losing time, snow, and stability. The disappearing peaks of Kathmandu are not a metaphor. They are a warning.
And like the air itself, that warning is already crossing borders. ©Sapan News
Pragyan Srivastava is an Indian journalist and associate editor at <a href="http://www.sapannews.com/" target="_blank">Sapan News</a>. <a href="mailto:pragyan@sapannews.com" target="_blank">pragyan@sapannews.com</a>

Cleaning up the Himalayan airshed

Kathmandu Valley alone now has over 700 cafes serving mugs made from freshly ground beans. ‘Americano double shot’, ‘Cappuccino’ and ‘Mocha’ have entered the Nepali language. It has also become a cash crop for thousands of farmers with near-perfect growing conditions along the Himalayan foothills.&nbsp; Yet, annual coffee production has declined by 15% to only 550 tons in the past years, and this meets only a fraction of the domestic demand of 6,000 tons.&nbsp; Nepali coffee fetches $22 per kg in the international market, but Nepal only exports 3% of its crop. If cleverly promoted, the international demand for Nepali coffee can be 8,000 tons. “Coffee is all about story-telling,” explains <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/Gagan-Pradhan-and-Himalayan-Java,1076">Gagan Pradhan, founder of Himalayan Java Coffee</a>. “Nepali coffee has brand value because it is grown in the highest elevations on earth and is a cash crop for cooperatives and small farmers. There is tremendous potential for growth.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100216_1f366d8a85cc133fedee0ee72d7768d3a23bf51f8d43edbdadf98443bc0c01ba.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205100216_1f366d8a85cc133fedee0ee72d7768d3a23bf51f8d43edbdadf98443bc0c01ba" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1518" loading="lazy" alt="coffee culture in Nepal"> </figure>  The reason for the decline in coffee production lately is attributed to erratic weather caused by climate change, but mostly it is because it is manual-intensive, needing initial capital and patience for a return on investment. The strategy that makes most sense for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/make-way-for-makalu-coffee">Nepal’s coffee industry</a> is to sell it as a rare, specialty product.&nbsp; Says Raj Kumar Banjara, master trainer at Nepal Coffee Academy and originator of the Himalayan Arabica brand: “There is no better crop for Nepal because we have the ideal soil and weather to grow specialty coffee, which can be exported to third countries directly instead of sending it through India like with ginger, cardamom, or tea.” These favorable conditions are at altitudes between 800m to 1,600m along the mid-mountains and temperature not exceeding 22°C, which allows cherries to &nbsp;develop slower, giving it a denser taste with complex flavours of fruits and nuts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100216_35e470381d258d9598d30165d0dbb6b4294c389c61695bf8c47d72d2273b4629.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260205100216_35e470381d258d9598d30165d0dbb6b4294c389c61695bf8c47d72d2273b4629" data-rendition-name="original" width="3872" height="2592" loading="lazy" alt="coffee culture in Nepal"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100216_f7ccb42d7a7fb656dadc7ba5132a6243b8f99a28f7877875172411b7a4c96bc0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260205100216_f7ccb42d7a7fb656dadc7ba5132a6243b8f99a28f7877875172411b7a4c96bc0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="coffee culture in Nepal"> </figure>  This is ‘Arabica’ coffee, and it is also considered ‘organic by default’ because farmers have limited access to chemical pesticides and fertilisers, adding to its premium. All of Nepal’s coffee is grown in only 4,300 hectares total, and this is just 0.36% of the area suitable for coffee farming. Still 31,000 households across 44 districts depend on this cash crop.&nbsp; Challenges include out-migration, limits on land ownership, and climate breakdown leading to colder, drier winters, droughts and heat stress. Shreeyanch Shrestha is the founder of Samparka Cloud Loyalty, a startup that helps businesses retain customers by giving them insights about customer behaviour. Among the services offered is a digital loyalty card for coffee shops, one of his biggest clientele.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100216_c80e17ac78016ae5a90f4b27105e16af6c39d1422665f9f9c9b1d8404e5e7d54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260205100216_c80e17ac78016ae5a90f4b27105e16af6c39d1422665f9f9c9b1d8404e5e7d54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="coffee culture in Nepal"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100212_968c5b264ec2fb65014dc3ebc2777f0bf19f596a4152c59f9cad9d99dee79df7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260205100212_968c5b264ec2fb65014dc3ebc2777f0bf19f596a4152c59f9cad9d99dee79df7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="coffee beans"> </figure>  Shrestha is also a coffee enthusiast, and recently collaborated with Baato Maps on the playfully designed ‘Kathmandu Coffee Map’.&nbsp; “This was a marketing campaign but also a way to pay tribute to cafe owners we worked with,” he says. “A new generation of coffee farmers, processors, roasters and consumers seem to want to invest in upgrading their coffee experience.” COFFEE CULTURE Operators such as Raj Kumar Banjara have been in that game for over 30 years, even earning a PhD in Coffee Agriculture, running farms and teaching roasting and barista courses. Now, he makes short how-to videos on social media. Banjara’s Academy is run by Specialty Coffee Association certified Q Graders and Authorised Trainers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100216_22433d3a8b71224cd8cb38105b9eb5502a104e03ccec2e3864c8b23efc9f3fc6.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260205100216_22433d3a8b71224cd8cb38105b9eb5502a104e03ccec2e3864c8b23efc9f3fc6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3612" height="2028" loading="lazy" alt="coffee culture in Nepal"> </figure>  Also promoting a coffee culture through social media is Santosh Shah of Bariko Coffee. He documents his process on Instagram, from hand picking and processing coffee cherries to brewing.&nbsp; Nepal appears to be riding the Third Wave of Coffee (see box) as the beverage moves away from the café chain culture to one that values knowledge of the cherries, beans, the roasting process and brewing -- right from the plant to the cup.&nbsp; Along the way, there are tales to be told about where the coffee is grown, who grows it, and how farmers get a fair price for the product. Coffee then becomes a shared social experience that directly connects the consumer to the producer. Nima Tenzing Sherpa returned to Nepal from the United States to start Lekali Coffee Estate in 2018, and produces fine single origin coffee beans so that the quality of the product improves the quality of life of the growers.&nbsp; He told Nepali Times: “Specialty-grade beans are the only future for Nepal’s coffee industry. I am continuously hunting for the best coffee origins in Nepal.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205100212_e08ba44d6396eb75da868404dd8cf2a26b71cd6d90ab3afaf7175790c111d21e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260205100212_e08ba44d6396eb75da868404dd8cf2a26b71cd6d90ab3afaf7175790c111d21e" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="coffee beans"> <figcaption>Photo: LEKALI COFFEE ESTATE </figcaption> </figure>  HISTORY OF COFFEE Human consumption of coffee began in Ethiopia when herders found their goats became perky after eating beans from a wild Arabica bush. The first commercial cultivation of the brew began in Yemen 600 years ago. &nbsp;&nbsp; Nepal’s coffee history is much younger. A holy man is said to have brought coffee seeds from Burma in 1938, and planted them in Gulmi, the district in the mid-mountains where the first coffee nursery was set up in 1981. The Nepal Coffee Company was founded in 1983 by Krishna Ghimire in Manigram near Butwal which educated farmers about the crop and recruited them to cultivate it. He then roasted the beans, and convinced the BhatBhateni stores, which had just opened, to sell it. The company still supplies coffee to cafes and has its own brands and farm. It supplies green beans to those who want to self-roast, or build a brand. In the 1990s, the National Tea and Coffee Development Board was established, and Himalayan Java Coffee (Nepal Made, right) opened its first shop in Kamaladi before moving to Thamel. Itr now has nearly 100 franchises across Nepal and overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260207030236_1908f4a4246d373f51affa8ac48be90129e888f1222b8f10e5cd25421e931dd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260207030236_1908f4a4246d373f51affa8ac48be90129e888f1222b8f10e5cd25421e931dd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2052" height="1455" loading="lazy" alt="coffee map"> </figure>  What is the Third Wave? First Wave: Profit-driven, mass marketing, air tight containers and instant coffee. Consumption of coffee worldwide starts growing.&nbsp; Second Wave: Artisan-driven, origin and roasting style become important, epitomised by Starbucks and espresso. &nbsp; <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Nepali-specialty-coffee,4106">Third Wave</a>: Characteristics of the beverage take centre stage: origin of the beans, consistent processing techniques, and roasting style. Independent coffee shops demonstrate craftsmanship and knowledge of coffee beans from plant to the cup, promoting ethics and transparency.&nbsp; Coffee Districts Coffee is grown in over 44 districts of Nepal (see map, above). In the last fiscal year, Nepal produced 550 tonnes of Bourbon, Typica and Yellow Caturra varieties of Arabica coffee. The total plantation area in Nepal is 4,300 hectares, a fraction of the total suitable land. &nbsp;

nepali-journalists

Bhairab Dai’s shining light

Pandemic stress grips Nepal’s journalists

Mass migration from Muktikot

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

Cleaning up the Himalayan airshed

Caffeine buzz