This is the 89th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. Growing up in a remote village in Parbat disrict, we walked uphill 90 minutes to get to school. We were never on time for morning assembly. We had to cut grass, feed the livestock before school.&nbsp; My father served in the Indian Army and came home once a year. I preferred it when he was away because he was strict. Even his shadow scared me, and until I was 16, I could not even look him directly in the eyes.&nbsp; I now know that he had good intentions, and if I had followed his guidance, I would probably be in a much better position today. Despite my father’s discouragement, I prepared for Indian Army recruitment walking up at 3:30 to run and do workouts.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_14b41a7f5380221adf841ad58f73b905a86399817a4e3643ec8d7aca496aa1ec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260323130328_14b41a7f5380221adf841ad58f73b905a86399817a4e3643ec8d7aca496aa1ec" data-rendition-name="original" width="1285" height="831" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  I failed thrice despite making it to the final round. I accepted my fate, it was not meant to be. Like everyone else, I sought my fortune in the Gulf. I paid a recruiter Rs40,000 and headed to Qatar to work in a garment factory. The heat there terrified me. My salary was not what the agent had promised, but since I was &nbsp;already there I decided to work hard. My managers took notice and promoted me to supervisor. It came with its perks: a higher salary, a brown shirt that commanded more respect, fewer number of people in our room, and basmati rice.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_dad6c1d476e08e0f79072612fb6b9dfefd7fa9ccd3bfc368474e65196db49858.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260323130328_dad6c1d476e08e0f79072612fb6b9dfefd7fa9ccd3bfc368474e65196db49858" data-rendition-name="original" width="1360" height="913" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  I was promoted again to an assistant timekeeper, keeping track of the shifts and overtime of 600 workers. I also learnt to use a computer with the help of a friend from Kolkata.&nbsp; Rising up through the ranks made me understand what other workers were going through, and I treated them with empathy and respect. This made me quite popular in the company.After three years in Qatar, the company shut down. I returned to Nepal but saw an ad in the papers asking for security guards. Two Americans interviewed me, and I gave them my best salute. They did not ask me much, and said they wanted to see me in Kuwait the following week. My father somehow managed to collect Rs60,000 for the job.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_dbec508694937ea6c9e19fa7dc00fc23b742abc4b985e7490bf4d2f53fc21cbc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260323130328_dbec508694937ea6c9e19fa7dc00fc23b742abc4b985e7490bf4d2f53fc21cbc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  It was tough at first. We did not have food or mattresses. Later, news reached the main client that our contractor was not providing us good facilities so they intervened and things started improving. I soon got promoted to the post of a site supervisor. A group of us were smart and disciplined, the kind of security guards our contractor proudly showed to potential clients as ‘Gurkha’ guards. This helped them gain new business and opened opportunities for more Nepalis to be recruited. People there called me ‘Tyson’ because I was hot headed. I never started fights, but if someone came at me, I did not back down. I was dismissed twice for hitting an Egyptian after he struck me first, and a Bangladeshi who grabbed my throat when I told him not to park in a restricted area.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_e681354e16121cffecc7bb909d5b5ef5ded910e39202599a54441604b411b13c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260323130328_e681354e16121cffecc7bb909d5b5ef5ded910e39202599a54441604b411b13c" data-rendition-name="original" width="896" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  In both cases, the management was forced to reverse the dismissal. First because nearly 150 Nepalis protested the decision to fire me, and second because American managers from the client intervened and instead promoted me to patrolling supervisor. I married young at 17, and by 19 I already had two children. For me, they were my biggest priority. While working at the American base camp in Kuwait, I often saw VIPs and wondered why I had not studied harder so I could be more than a security guard. People in suits with neatly combed hair, and the cars they stepped out of were impressive. I wanted my children to have such positions. I invested heavily in their studies.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_65f6ab934b90aab26fdeee2b24338f0bad6eef4f1e2c6d82ad5145814273b496.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260323130328_65f6ab934b90aab26fdeee2b24338f0bad6eef4f1e2c6d82ad5145814273b496" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="479" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  After six years, I returned to Nepal and applied for a seafarer position in the United States. The screening process was intense. I passed the first interview, after which we had two months of training focused on physical preparation, language, and preparation for the final interview.&nbsp; Going to America was the dream, so I took the preparation very seriously. I practice English with my niece and nephew and often studied throughout the night. The questions I had prepared for were mostly about security work. But when Philip, an Australian, came to interview us, he asked random questions such as my favourite Western food and why I wanted to work on a ship.&nbsp; I still remember him asking whether the tie I was wearing belonged to me. I explained that I borrowed it from the guy who interviewed before me, which he had noticed. My honest reply made him smile. That night I could not sleep a wink in anticipation. 10AM. No call. 11AM. No call. At 3PM, I got too anxious so I called the office. They said I did not get the job. Disappointed, I packed my bags to return to my village. Just as I left my in laws’ house they got a call informing me that the recruiter was joking and I had in fact gotten the job. I was so happy I cried.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_9e212dbf6bacc277196ea5ed83217d9bce922ebee3fde3254345b04929c5948b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260323130328_9e212dbf6bacc277196ea5ed83217d9bce922ebee3fde3254345b04929c5948b" data-rendition-name="original" width="896" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  Going to the USA was exciting. People in my village did not believe me. For someone who used to get off in Doha, this time I was in transit. After Doha, the passengers were different and wealthier. Their standards seemed higher, and the food provided was different. I felt out of place on that leg of the flight. My new job was on a cruise ship. Our room, shared by two, was below water level and had no windows. Sometimes the waves hitting the ship were so loud that they kept us awake. Back then, there was no wifi, and we typed long messages to post when we got free wifi when we docked at a port.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_2e3a94fa27963867a89814da259b7b9d203ee62561841170b1b2a7bbb79f991c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260323130328_2e3a94fa27963867a89814da259b7b9d203ee62561841170b1b2a7bbb79f991c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  I sold the land I bought in Pokhara with my Kuwait earnings and purchased land in Lalitpur with my maritime earnings. I also bought a house in Pokhara where my mother and brother live. As I was managing loans and major expenses like my children’s education, my younger brother, who had gone to Qatar as a security guard, fell sick with kidney failure.&nbsp; He received a transplant as our mother was a match, but even after the operation the medical costs remained extremely high. I took care of his family and the &nbsp;bills. Because the problem was long term, I encouraged my sister in law to apply for a job like mine. She failed the first interview, so I had her enroll in English language courses.&nbsp; She passed the second time and has been working on another ship since 2016. This has helped my brother’s family immensely. Then, there was Covid and I was stuck in Nepal. The next job was on the humanitarian Mercy Ship, that offered free medical treatment to poorest people around the world. Right now we are stationed in Sierra Leone and will go on to Ghana.&nbsp; The medical personnel volunteer their time to serve, and the patients receiving treatment are also grateful because they are given a second life. I can see it in their faces when they leave the ship post surgery or treatment. I have now built a house in Lalitpur. My son is studying in Japan and my daughter is in public health. My journey has helped those around me.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260323130328_bfa7ba1c52186e1f610767b817a710a58c75e93a90e7db9907a6d41fd3c2252a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260323130328_bfa7ba1c52186e1f610767b817a710a58c75e93a90e7db9907a6d41fd3c2252a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="DD 89"> </figure>  My father unexpectedly passed when I was away. Baba was the pillar of my house. Without him, everything has fallen apart. All responsibilities fall on my shoulder. He had an orange orchard with 700 trees and used to sell the fruits in Kalimati, but now we have leased it. I am not sure when I will come back to Nepal. &nbsp;The work is easy because we just have to work six hours a day and four days a week. I get to come home for three months every six months on paid leave to be with my family.&nbsp; I am very lucky that way. I see other Nepalis staying 17-18 years until they cross their 60s. Even when they leave, they pass the baton to their sons who take their positions. I think I will also stay on this job as long as my health allows me.

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

From desert to sea

As war escalates across West Asia, Nepali workers navigate fear, uncertainty and the pressure to keep earning, while back home a new government readies to take charge. &nbsp;&nbsp; Khagendra Basnet, 42, has spent seven years as a security guard here. He sits silently during a long night shift as his mobile phone screeches alerts. Explosions follow as Iranian missiles and drones are intercepted overhead.&nbsp; Three weeks into the war, residents in Qatar have gone from fear to resignation, some even returning to dinners at the Pearl and Souq Waqif under flashes of missiles in the sky.&nbsp; Basnet’s company contracted him to US-affiliated institutions and he works near the American Embassy. He is apprehensive, “I panic from time to time as there is no saying when it is safe.” Qatar’s location and its US air base at Al Udeid puts it at risk of Iranian missile attacks. The base was struck on the very first day of the war on 28 February. Oil and gas installations in Iran and across the Gulf were targetted this week.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090332_e3b4c07574b9680a40263d0a005bd08a2864a4c49747762203fd92d01cdf799a.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260319090332_e3b4c07574b9680a40263d0a005bd08a2864a4c49747762203fd92d01cdf799a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1036" height="582" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Doha during war"> </figure>  While no deaths have been reported in Qatar so far, there is fear among Nepalis in the Gulf states, as well as in Israel itself where there are 7,000 caregivers and nurses.&nbsp; Three South Asian migrant workers were killed by debris from intercepted Iranian drones above Abu Dhabi on 28 February. Among them was 29-year-old Diwas Shrestha from Gorkha, who had been working as a security guard. “Hearing that news made my heart ache,” says Basnet. “What if my family has to bear a similar tragedy without saying goodbye, and hearing from news sources?” Basnet came to Qatar to save enough to support his family. His company had promised him a plane ticket home in April, but Doha airport is only partially open for limited routes. He says, “My family is really worried. I assure them that it’s all ok, just to lessen their fear.” Basnet’s thoughts are about the political change back home in Nepal. He blames the decades of corrupt governments for not creating opportunities for people like him in Nepal, and forcing him to work in a war zone. The Foreign Ministry issued an advisory to the nearly 2 million Nepalis in Israel, Iran and other West Asian countries telling them to follow local security instructions.&nbsp; “We have formed an Emergency Response Team with different departments in light of the ongoing conflict in West Asia. We are closely monitoring the situation through our 24/7-operating control rooms, our embassies and advisories in the region, and online information forms,” says Lok Bahadur Poudel Chettri of the Foreign Ministry in Kathmandu. More than 65,000 Nepali citizens have registered in the ministry's online system, among whom roughly 6,000 requested emergency assistance.&nbsp; Foreign Minister Balananda Sharma has said Nepal would “use both air and sea routes” if the number of people requiring assistance increases.&nbsp; However, the department sees no immediate need for mass-evacuation from the region.&nbsp; But for many workers here, the issue is not only whether they are officially asked to leave. It is whether they can afford to.&nbsp; On 14 March MoFA advised Nepalis in Qatar to secure Saudi tourist visas in advance so they could use the Salwa border route and fly out to Nepal.&nbsp; Other governments evacuated their nationals through overland transfers, charter flights, and consular assistance routed via Saudi Arabia or Oman.&nbsp; The Indian Embassy in Qatar facilitated departures through limited Qatar Airways flights and through Saudi Arabia, including temporary 96-hour Saudi transit visas for its Indian nationals.&nbsp; “I checked the available options and it will cost at least 4,000 riyals (Rs157,000) to fly to Nepal via Saudi Arabia, and most flights are already booked,” says Basnet, whose salary is only 1,800 riyal a month. NEW NORMAL For most migrant workers in Qatar, fear has become routine. Arun Thapa, 31, works at a food delivery company here, and was in his room scrolling through TikTok when he first saw videos and updates about war breaking out 28 February.&nbsp; Before he could fully process what was happening, emergency alerts began ringing on his phone, followed by explosions in the sky.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090332_4eeb6f20a1006baa2eaaa8461759a99a8c257099725c7bc3acf1b4b21a893603.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090332_4eeb6f20a1006baa2eaaa8461759a99a8c257099725c7bc3acf1b4b21a893603" data-rendition-name="original" width="1096" height="319" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Doha during war"> <figcaption>Snoonu, a Qatar-based food delivery app, message to its customers on the initial days of the conflict</figcaption> </figure>  For Thapa this was less scary than the Israeli air strike in Doha last September targetting the Hamas leadership. He was delivering food when he heard the bombs go off at that time.&nbsp; “That day, I was really frightened. It was my first time seeing this,” recalls Thapa. “That is not to say I am not scared now, of course, I am,” he says. “I try not to overthink, and get on with my job.” Thapa came to Qatar 10 years ago after being first rejected for medical reasons. He first worked in Bangalore as a waiter, and connections he built there helped him secure a job in a supermarket in Qatar. Unlike many migrants he did not have to pay an exorbitant amount to recruiters. Still, he was promised a salary of 2,500 riyals a month, which was the main reason he agreed to come, but found out he would earn only half that.&nbsp; His job is risky even without war: riders spend long hours on the road, exposed to traffic, heat and now the possibility of falling missile debris. But he came here to earn and save, and this means he has to overcome his fear. Thapa wants to stay on for another two years because he still has loans after buying land for his family. “It has become a habit. If I hear an alert, I park my bike to watch the fireworks, and get back to delivering,” he says. “People are not as scared as they were at first. Despite everything, Qatar feels safe.”&nbsp; But if the war escalates, Thapa does not expect much from his company beyond the annual return ticket, he will have to fend for himself. He is somewhat more optimistic about the Nepal Embassy helping than before.&nbsp; Even though Nepal is a neutral country, its citizens are now scattered across the globe — many of them in war zones like West Asia. Ten Nepalis were killed in the Hamas attack on Israel in 2023, at the Canadian Embassy in Kabul in 2014, and the dozen Nepalis were killed in Iraq in 2004. At least 1,000 Nepalis are fighting in the Russian Army against Ukraine, and 110 have been killed. Economic desperation and tempting offers by recruiters pushes many to risk their lives just to support their families. “Labour and migration must be diversified and not be entirely dependent on Gulf countries,” says Pitambar Ghimire at the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Social Security in Kathmandu. “We must ensure safe and dignified migration in our labour diplomacy.” With the change of government in Nepal, there is hope among migrants that in the long term there will be better job opportunities, but there is the immediate risk posed by the West Asia war.&nbsp; Nepal needs to move beyond lip service to migrant workers for supporting the country with their remittances, to ensuring their safety and security.&nbsp; Khagendra Basnet stares out at the glittering Doha skyline, gives a worrying glance at the sky, saying,“I hope I can still live safely and be here to work and earn. If not, I will have to find a way back.”&nbsp; Some names have been changed to protect their identity.

Migrant workers in wartime

This is the 79th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. <h2>Jitu Mahato</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_c150516456fed4f4408836b4b955ab937ec54df96456f1f2836d138c597ef7e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260111140148_c150516456fed4f4408836b4b955ab937ec54df96456f1f2836d138c597ef7e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Jitu Mahato</figcaption> </figure>  I have three sons. My eldest worked in Saudi Arabia for ten years and then went to Dubai. My second son has lived in Dubai for four years. My youngest worked in Malaysia but came back after his company went bankrupt. Here, we don’t have much land so what they have earned has helped with the grandchildren’s education and other household expenses. My sons feed me, buy my clothes and medication. I take loans from others when I need it for our work in the field and pay them off when they send me money. My farm work is not affected without them here because they had no interest in खेती बारी anyway, even when they were here they did not want to step in the fields. Many youth have migrated from our village. Some have gone to Malaysia, others to the Gulf. Some have done well, others have not. Some buy land or pay off loans, others come back without saving much.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_086cc14e33c827865d30c07b18bf34d0d06427459ba7b44f6f9ff6b84264e9d7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260111140148_086cc14e33c827865d30c07b18bf34d0d06427459ba7b44f6f9ff6b84264e9d7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Jitu Mahato with a scooter that his son brought him.</figcaption> </figure>  Children can go to school wearing better clothes because of the money migrants send home. There are both good and bad sides of foreign employment. The earnings help because without it we would die hungry. But there are no young men in the village, everyone is abroad. We are old. We are not educated. Even small things like paperwork that require someone who knows how to read and write become inconvenient without them around. During hardships, it becomes more difficult and whoever is left behind comes together to help each other in whatever way we can. My son recently bought me a scooter, as I am getting older and it has become difficult to get around. It has made it convenient to visit my daughters' house and other places. <h2>Mohan Bahadur Karki</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_cc859f5911adbc106596042b13f89007ea09652046683397351a4f7ef11bab2e.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260111140148_cc859f5911adbc106596042b13f89007ea09652046683397351a4f7ef11bab2e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1446" height="796" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Mahan Bahadur Karki and his wife.</figcaption> </figure>  All three of our sons are working in Malaysia. We had trouble feeding ourselves so they wanted to go and earn for the family. Having sons overseas has helped ensure we can survive, and have clothes to wear. We used to live in a mud house in the past, which had to be repaired over and over again. Now we have a concrete house. All our children and grandchildren should have been living with us, but feels empty sometimes with just the two of us.&nbsp; We have moved many times in our life. This is the ninth place we are living in. Now we won’t move. My son sent the design of the house from Malaysia. He sent a picture of a house he liked from there to the contractor here. It is an exact replica, and people even come here to make Tiktok and music videos.&nbsp; Even in my dreams, I never thought I would one day live in a house like this. Our sons were smart, and managed it. People get surprised that I, a labourer who worked in others’ fields, live in a house like this, but we still have outstanding loans for this house. Many youth from our village have left. Some have lost their jobs and returned. Ours are thankfully okay so far, but one of our sons' companies has started laying off workers so he might be next on the list. Overtime hours have also been cut in Malaysia, they say. We will see.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_504a381f7e06431c61d75a4e890e48a786f9b3eea4e23d280dd55161378ce84d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260111140148_504a381f7e06431c61d75a4e890e48a786f9b3eea4e23d280dd55161378ce84d" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  We have faced too many difficulties during our lifetime. We don’t know what is waiting for us next. All our lives, we have faced difficult periods uncertain about the next day, the next night. Life has been full of tests. Farming is not reliable because the rains are erratic. Too much of it this year. It was okay for paddy, but not for tomatoes. As you get older, you cannot work as much. While you have your youth, you can earn. I never got to migrate overseas, I grew old just ploughing fields. I did not get an opportunity to study. I don’t even know how to write my name. I worked as a labourer all my life to take care of the family because the land did not produce enough. Now I cannot work, even if I wanted to. I am not so strong anymore, and my mind is not as sharp. Thankfully my sons have taken over and they tell us not to work hard and to rest, they will take care of us.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_2f483a1ed383f6697f928147b2d1ab5544cca96ae4902a31ca353c135ec0bb67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260111140148_2f483a1ed383f6697f928147b2d1ab5544cca96ae4902a31ca353c135ec0bb67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  They remind me not to carry heavy loads or push myself too hard in the fields. I have started getting sick more frequently. I spend quite a lot on medication. At some point, I had become near immobile for two months and could not even go to the bathroom. I had to come back from Kathmandu with medicine that cost Rs14,000. If my sons had not gone overseas, we would be relying on our farming. Things would have been tougher. We don’t know how long they will stay overseas. I heard there is a limit of ten years in Malaysia. Once they are back, maybe they will go back to the fields. What other option do they have? But we cannot always rely on overseas work either. What to do? Life’s challenges don’t go away but you have to figure ways out to deal with them. As long as there is even one breath left, we must keep fighting. <h2>Tukra Bahadur Ale Magar / Gangi Maya Ale</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_8111f8c7205ccf48f9671e1fd3661aec32bd522819447c648037f84b70a0b55f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260111140148_8111f8c7205ccf48f9671e1fd3661aec32bd522819447c648037f84b70a0b55f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Tukra Bahadur and Gangi Maya Ale.</figcaption> </figure>  [Gangi] My son is in Malaysia. He sends us money and we spend on household expenses. I wish we could save money too but we have not been able to. It balances out. He could not get a job here, so he left. Parents do not want to send their children away, but what could we do? We have to spend Rs3,000 just on medicines every month. I am always worried about my son, it's not the same as having them in front of me. When he falls sick, there is no one around and he does not even get to take time off without wage deduction. Those things worry me, having him around was more assuring. Before Malaysia, he worked in Dubai for six years and was back here for two years in between. He got married then and re-migrated as responsibilities increased. The earnings of Dubai is this house. [Tukra] We used to have a small mud house but my son said we should invest in a stronger house. I did not go abroad myself because it was not common in our village back then. But now it has become a trend and our son also left. I wish I had got to migrate as well. By not migrating, I think I did not get to see the world. How is the world? How is it to earn abroad? I have never been in a plane, I just have six goats and the farm. Everything is going alright. <h2>Nirmala Rana Magar</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_92f559b9b08434a9eaeddaee13ae180304453dd300a24e7b86a8dbab78e454f6.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260111140148_92f559b9b08434a9eaeddaee13ae180304453dd300a24e7b86a8dbab78e454f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1388" height="797" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> <figcaption>Nirmala Rana Magar</figcaption> </figure>  Two of my sons are abroad. One in Kuwait, the other in Malaysia. The younger son migrated more recently and his earnings have mostly gone to pay off recruitment loans. The elder son built this house for us. Before this, we lived in a mud house which I had built with the earnings when I worked in India. &nbsp;Money is important but I miss my sons everyday. I have a lot of love for them. When you have your children, you have the world. We talk in the mornings and evenings via video calls.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260111140148_b66a6e79992800e5525b65993fa589b126b58c4a1c549a010ca88ece85891608.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260111140148_b66a6e79992800e5525b65993fa589b126b58c4a1c549a010ca88ece85891608" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="Our migrant sons NT"> </figure>  They had to move overseas because we could not survive on their earnings here. We can now afford the school fees of the granddaughters, but their dads around would have been better for them. But what can we do? We had no choice. The recent GenZ protests gave us some hope that things will be better, but it is still unsure. When will the day of the poor come? Will we ever get to live a decent life? No matter what happens, no matter who is in government, it is the poor like us who suffer. So many governments have changed but we are stuck where we were. If our children got good jobs, we would be happy.

Our migrant sons

The Tokyo High Court this week ordered the Tokyo Metropolitan Government to pay over JPY39 million ($250,000) in damages to the family of Nepali migrant worker Arjun Bahadur Singh who died in police custody eight years ago.
The order brings justice to the family of Singh, who was 39 when he died after being handcuffed and restrained following his arrest in Tokyo in March 2017.
With help from Japanese human rights lawyers, Singh’s widow Ambika had filed a lawsuit claiming a JPY62 million compensation for her husband’s death at a police station, allegedly due to mistreatment.
The Tokyo District Court had initially ordered a compensation of only JPY1 million to the family citing reciprocity for Japanese nationals in Nepal, but after the Tokyo Metropolitan Government appealed that decision, the court slapped a much bigger amount.
“Police violated their duty to ensure that Arjun was not restrained too tightly than necessary, and it was this action that restricted his blood circulation, leading to his death,” the court order said.
It justified the higher compensation saying it calculated Singh's salary in Japan before returning to Nepal, and added: “Strict adherence to reciprocal compensation could lead to injustice and violation of international human rights law.&nbsp;
<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank">Arjun Singh</a> first came to Japan in 2011 as a migrant worker to work in a Nepali restaurant in Saitama Prefecture. With his savings, he supported his two daughters and wife in Bajura district in Nepal. But he fell sick and went back to Nepal where he could not pay back his debts.&nbsp;
He re-migrated to Japan, but could not hold on to his job and police picked him off the Tokyo sidewalk where he was living. In his possession, police found a credit card, which they accused him of stealing, although he had just found it on the street and had not used it.&nbsp;
Police said Singh was disorderly and violent in detention, and had to be restrained before being interrogated at the Tokyo Prosecutor’s Office. They said his handcuffs were taken off just before he collapsed and was rushed to hospital where he was declared dead. No cause of death was determined.&nbsp;
Japanese lawyer Tohru Takahashi who works for Solidarity Network with Migrants Japan, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/worker-s-widow-sues-japan-government" target="_blank">told Nepali Times in 2018</a> that a doctor's testimony showed that being handcuffed and shackled for a long period was the cause of death due to muscle necrosis.&nbsp;
Takahashi and another activist Azuma Toyohisa took Singh’s body to a Zen temple in Nagoya for an autopsy before cremation. The two activists took care of the expenses and also flew in Ambika Singh from Nepal for his funeral.&nbsp;
“If it wasn’t for the Japanese people who helped me, I would never have been able to take my husband’s ashes back to Nepal, I hope no one has to go through what I did. I couldn’t tell whether I was living a nightmare or a reality,” Ambika had told Nepali Times in 2018 after returning from Japan.
One of the Japanese lawyers defending Singh, <a href="https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2018/07/27/national/crime-legal/wife-nepalese-man-died-interrogation-sues-state-tokyo-metropolitan-government/#.W1xJsi0Q0Wo" target="_blank">Ryutaro Ogawa, told the Japan Times</a>: “This is about how foreign workers don’t get the support they need when they lose their job … I think there is a lot to learn from this case.”
The number of Nepali migrating to Japan has surged in recent years as the country sees a shortfall of workers due to a calling birthrate. There are said to be <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank">nearly 200,000 Nepalis</a> in Japan, mostly working in the service sector, manufacturing and studying. &nbsp;

Compensation for death of Nepali worker in Japan

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

Every day is closer to pay day

Last year, 775,000 Nepalis left for employment abroad, and another 100,000 students flew out to study overseas. Nearly a million young Nepalis left in 2021-22, and that figure does not even include those who went to India.&nbsp; This is the largest mass exodus of young Nepalis in the country’s history. No country can sustain such a sustained haemorrhage.&nbsp; There are few Nepalis left in villages, and those in cities seem to be mostly waiting for documents to leave. Every day, 3,000 Nepalis leave on student visas from Kathmandu airport. The 2021 census put the country’s absentee population at 2.1 million, and that appears to be a gross underestimate. “The youth are not keen to stay at home, and their parents do not want them to stay here either,” says sociologist Ganesh Gurung. “It seems as if the entire nation is on the move.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">Migration not a wish, but necessity for Nepalis</a>, Shristi Karki <div class="embed-block"><iframe src='https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/14955345/embed' title='Interactive or visual content' class='flourish-embed-iframe' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' style='width:100%;height:600px;' sandbox='allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation'></iframe><div style='width:100%!;margin-top:4px!important;text-align:right!important;'><a class='flourish-credit' href='https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/14955345/?utm_source=embed&utm_campaign=visualisation/14955345' target='_top' style='text-decoration:none!important'><img alt='Made with Flourish' src='https://public.flourish.studio/resources/made_with_flourish.svg' style='width:105px!important;height:16px!important;border:none!important;margin:0!important;'> </a></div></div> An increasing number of Nepalis are leaving to study while working: primarily in Australia, Japan, Europe, and North America. Those who leave face bureaucratic hassles trying to get no-objection certificates, and when they come back they get the run around trying to obtain an equivalency for foreign degrees so they can work here. Last month, six young Nepalis from Rasuwa left their studies, jobs, and businesses to seek employment in Croatia. “With luck, I can get a PR (Permanent Residency) in some other European country, Croatia is just a stepping stone,” said Bhuvan Neupane, one of the six. Elsewhere in Nuwakot’s Bidur village, Binod Poudel is hoping to go abroad and has handed his passport to a foreign employment agent. “All my friends have left Nepal,” he says. “What am I supposed to do here?” Aakriti Timilsina is a high school graduate, and has given up on college in Nepal and is preparing to study in either Canada or Australia by working part-time there. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">Nepal’s hard working students overseas</a>, Sonia Awale <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Studying Abroad " aria-label="Map" id="datawrapper-chart-0JsdR" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/0JsdR/4/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="900" height="483" data-external="1"></iframe></div> A recent study by the online platform Studyportals revealed that Nepali students make up 14.3% of international students across the world. Sociologist Dinesh Prasain notes that a lack of employment and meaningful earnings are the primary reasons for the young to leave. Basic items have become unaffordable even in fixed-income households. But there are other push factors as well: peer pressure, falling living standards, and a growing hopelessness that the future will be better because of corruption and political disarray.&nbsp; At the end of the Maoist insurgency in 2006, there was expectation that stability would yield a peace dividend. But Nepali politics remains in the stranglehold of tried, tested and failed leaders. Volatile and populist behaviour of new elected leaders has disappointed many young people, while some parties resort to religion and bigotry.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/inconvenient-truths">Inconvenient truths</a>, Editorial  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230908040920_e0cbd240a58b106e912ff5929f838821076ca23de511298525fc5a6fb19da0d1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230908040920_e0cbd240a58b106e912ff5929f838821076ca23de511298525fc5a6fb19da0d1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Page 1"> </figure>  Young Nepalis enthusiastically voted for alternative candidates in the 2022 local and federal polls, but mayors Harka Sampang and Balen Shah have been more adept at posting inflammatory comments on social media than actually delivering on election promises. This week Shah made outright threats to burn down Singha Darbar because the car carrying his wife was stopped for speeding. The post got millions of shares and likes before he took it down. Many also took the outburst as a sign that the Kathmandu mayor offers no real hope of reform. A series of corruption scandals from fake refugees, the Baluwatar land scam, gold smuggling and politicians trying to protect each other by transferring police investigators has added to the public disillusionment. “Nepali society has lost faith in politics and the leadership to make things better,” explains sociologist Dinesh Prasain. “Nepali parents &nbsp;would rather their children go somewhere better, and youngsters do not want to remain in what they see as a sinking ship.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/false-equivalence-in-nepal-academia">False equivalence in Nepal academia</a>, Aastha Dahal <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="No-Objection Certificate for students" aria-label="Column Chart" id="datawrapper-chart-c67xC" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/c67xC/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="450" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> Nepalis are lining up to fight in foreign armies, and even recruited themselves into both sides of the Russia-Ukraine war because of the promise of earnings and citizenship. This movement is helping keep Nepal’s economy afloat. Remittances contributed significantly to lowering Nepal’s poverty rate to below 17%, but over the long-term the cost of losing such a large proportion of the working age population is incalculable.&nbsp; Some 65% of Nepal’s total population is in the 15-64 age group, and Nepal is losing this demographic advantage. The country has only one-and-a-half decades left to take advantage of an active youth workforce. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/in-a-federal-kleptocratic-republic-of-nepal">In a Federal Kleptocratic Republic of Nepal</a>, Shristi Karki <div class="embed-block"> <iframe title="Population by age group" aria-label="Split Bars" id="datawrapper-chart-3L11U" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/3L11U/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border: none;" width="600" height="595" data-external="1"></iframe></div> Sociologist Dinesh Prasain describes the exit of young Nepalis as a moral crisis: “It is a failure of the political leadership. A country without its youth has lost its soul.” Meanwhile, Nepal’s politicians are just mouthing platitudes. Finance Minister Prakash Sharan Mahat last week urged young Nepalis to “change their mindset”, even arguing that Nepali students should be barred from studying abroad. Economist Pushkar Bajracharya says that there has to be a step-by-step strategy to create opportunities for Nepalis at home in order to prevent a brain and brawn drain: “If out-migration continues to grow as this pace, we are not only looking at a socio-economic crisis but also a threat to our sovereignty.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance">High-risk remittance</a>, Upasana Khadka

Push factors driving Nepalis out

Migrant workers returning from the Gulf and Malaysia make up 40% of infertility cases at Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital in Kathmandu. Studies have highlighted the problem of sterility among men who have<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/caring-for-nepals-women"> returned from working abroad</a> in extreme temperatures and are prone to unhealthy lifestyles including smoking and alcohol consumption. Sarlahi resident Sanjeev Sah had gone to Saudi Arabia for work just a year into his marriage. Concerned about his wife having to raise a child alone during his absence, 32-year-old Sah and his wife postponed their plans for a baby. Three years later after his return, the couple has not been able to conceive. They sought treatment at Paropakar Hospital in Thapathali. Sah was diagnosed with azoospermia, with no measurable sperm count. “Doctors told me that working in high temperatures abroad reduced the quality of my sperm,” says Sah. Suraj Adhikari from Dhading worked in Malaysia for three years, He married at 28 but was unable to conceive with his wife and was also diagnosed with azoospermia at an infertility clinic. Adhikari worked at a construction site in Malaysia which left him little time for basics such as food and water. Despite<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/gulf-workers-need-protection-from-heat"> extremely high temperatures</a>, he often went without water for prolonged periods because it was not always available. Doctors blame his time and lifestyle for the decline in his sperm quality. “Neglecting essentials while working abroad has led to a costly and time-consuming treatment for me,” Adhikari laments.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_17d0de92dd3eb03aa0e268ca5e30187ad21900f10f86f1bc6b7e9cc7ca1d540b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230903040916_17d0de92dd3eb03aa0e268ca5e30187ad21900f10f86f1bc6b7e9cc7ca1d540b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  Infertility is on the rise, globally and in Nepal. This is especially true for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-not-a-wish-but-necessity-for-nepalis">workers returning</a> from the Gulf and Malaysia, having worked in hotter temperatures. Half of the patients with childlessness visiting the outpatient department at Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital every day are migrant returnees. “Working conditions with high temperatures reduces the quality and quantity of sperm in young men,” confirms Vinita Thapa, sperm specialist at the hospital. Shree Prasad Adhikari, the director of Paropakar Maternity and an infertility pathologist, notes that 25 out of every 100 couples face infertility presently, and the problem has now grown particularly among those returning from foreign employment. Two years ago, Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital conducted tests on 186 men seeking infertility treatment at the institute. Of these, 46.2% had previously worked in the Gulf. The research report, published in the journal PubMed, revealed low sperm quantity and quality in some cases as well as a very low number of sperm capable of fertilising eggs in others. According to the WHO, one in every six adults, or 17.5% of the world’s population suffers from infertility. In Nepal, where children are seen as a form of security and add to the social prestige, infertility can have far-reaching implications. An increase in infertility could also be a contributing factor to an ultimate decline in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/counting-on-nepal">population</a> together with delayed marriages. And yet, assisted reproductive technologies such as in vitro fertilisation (IVF) remain financially inaccessible and carry social stigma for many individuals.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_fc6932b9f60d4f08e3c9834b4e141afba4d939726f297f9d4f1bcd8a674ebb23.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230903040916_fc6932b9f60d4f08e3c9834b4e141afba4d939726f297f9d4f1bcd8a674ebb23" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  A study by the Hebrew University of Israel and Mount Sinai School of Medicine in the US found that the average sperm count globally has decreased by half over the past 50 years. The study also revealed a decline in sperm quality, including a decrease in the number of sperm capable of fertilising eggs. Between the 1970s and 1990s, the rate of sperm count decline increased from 1.16% per year to 2.64% by the early 2000s. Paropakar Maternity and Women's Hospital introduced a semen storage service in June, allowing Nepalis to preserve semen and eggs if they require delayed childbirth. For instance, young individuals going abroad for a long time can <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/freezing-a-future-family-IVF-embryo-surrogacy,3881">store semen for reproduction</a> upon their return. Additionally, if the husband is absent, the wife can undergo artificial insemination using the stored semen, a technique called intrauterine insemination (IUI). In the IUI process, women are given medication and injections to stimulate egg production. Once mature eggs are produced, they are released through an injection. About 36-40 hours after releasing the eggs, a viable sperm is selected and placed into the uterus using a catheter, explains sperm specialist Thapa. The hospital is performing IUI on four to five women on a daily basis, at Rs5,000-10,000 per procedure. If pregnancy doesn’t occur after six IUI attempts, IVF is recommended. Adds Thapa: “Many are not aware but 90% of couples facing childlessness can be treated.” Since the introduction of the storage service in June, 15 couples have inquired but only two couples have agreed to store semen. The maternity home is also launching semen and egg donation programs wherein women having difficulty producing eggs can use donor eggs and the husband’s sperm. Similarly, when their husband’s sperm isn’t viable, the wife’s egg can be combined with donor semen for insemination.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230903040916_bb962f67de4e8325418117724d37ab0d9cc744195c68224e45973832aad89be1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230903040916_bb962f67de4e8325418117724d37ab0d9cc744195c68224e45973832aad89be1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Migrant infertility NT"> </figure>  “The stored semen remains effective for almost six years, retaining 60% of its initial quality,” assures Thapa. But more often than not, most childless couples fail to seek medical attention on time, resorting instead to shamans, witch doctors, and other ineffective measures. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-first-human-milk-bank">Paropakar </a>is the sole government facility providing effective treatment for childlessness at present. Hospitals often lack counselling services. Infertility treatment depends on the underlying cause ranging from pharmaceuticals to embryo implantation through assisted reproductive technologies (ART). Some 80-90% of childless couples can find solutions through regular treatment, says Paropakar director Adhikari. He adds that weight loss could be a solution for obese women struggling with infertility. In the case of blocked fallopian tubes, there are medications. For those with uterine tissue growth causing pregnancy complications, surgery can help their chances. But while normal medication can stimulate egg production, up to 50% of women facing infertility lack viable eggs. “Some older women might have reduced fertility despite having eggs. In such cases, medications and hormones can increase their capacity,” says Adhikari, adding that the government doesn’t need as much resources to fight infertility as much as it needs commitment. Treatment needs to be scaled up to reach all the district hospitals so that couples can easily access artificial insemination and other services while also promoting awareness and reducing the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/maybe-baby">stigma associated with childlessness</a> in Nepal. The fact that migrant workers who are in every sense the backbone of Nepal’s economy don't have access to treatment means it is even more crucial that infertility, the stigma and the treatment are prioritised and effectively addressed. &nbsp;

Migrants returning from the Gulf with infertility

This is the 33rd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I still remember the first day I landed in the UAE in 2009. Dubai airport was sparkling clean, spotless. Outside, there was a fancy air-conditioned van with a smartly uniformed driver waiting to pick us up. As he cruised through the wide and clean roads effortlessly, I thought to myself that the driver looked more like a pilot. But reality soon hit. It was past 3 AM, and the scene outside started looking dirtier and dimmer as we drove further away from the airport. We had reached our labour camp and were dropped off in a dingy part of the city. This was our reality, not the glamour and the glitter of the first impression. At 18, I, too, had come to work in the country as a cleaner to add to the sparkle. Despite the disparity that quickly became evident, I found a sense of warmth in the way the Nepalis at the camp welcomed us. There were no cups, I cannot recall why. But the dais cut water bottles in half, and used the lower half to serve us tea with bread. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  They went out of their way to feed us after our long journey as they told us about our new home. I will never forget their 4 AM hospitality. &nbsp;&nbsp; As I was brushing my teeth after waking up, uncertain about what awaited me, I heard someone shout out my name. It turns out two of my school friends were already working in the same company for two years. What were the odds, I thought. I had finished Grade 12 and landed in Dubai to work so as to better my life. I used to get jealous of the village boys who came home from bidesh every two years or so for a month to relax and splurge money. It was one of those acquaintances on vacation who had advised me to make my passport. Like other Nepali youth, this was my foreign dream. My father was getting old so I had to assume responsibility of a provider. My induction training in Dubai, even for a cleaning job, was three weeks long. I had not thought of cleaning as a professional job, but here, it was being taught like it was a science. We were not going to mindlessly scrub floors, we were required to have a deeper understanding of the chemicals and cleaning tools. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="692" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  I learnt a lot and as I scored over 80% in my assessment exam, and got placed in hotels. Those who scored lower had to work in office buildings and malls. At the hotel the manager had been secretly watching my work. He was obviously impressed because when a supervisor left he offered me the job. At just 20, I was unsure if I was up for the task as I would have to manage people significantly older than me. But I took a chance and was promoted from cleaner to supervisor. Over the next nine years in the UAE, I worked in about six hotels. I could not stay put in the same place for long because once the work would start getting repetitive, I wanted to move on to better things. From a normal hotel to a five star and subsequently to a luxury five star. I was also getting a degree in tourism on the side at an Indian-affiliated open university in Dubai. I did not manage to attend all classes because of my hectic work schedule, but I knew I needed the credentials for my future so somehow managed to complete it. My last employer in Dubai was Fairmont. Working at a five-star hotel has its perks. It is more professional, the staff is more competent. The managers had significantly better skills and experience that made you want to emulate them. There were also a lot of training opportunities. Lessons from books like Emotional Intelligence and Who Moved My Cheese? were taught in ways that injected Fairmont's values in our blood. I enjoyed my work and even got the 2018 Manager of the Year award, something I had never even dreamt would happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="794" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  &nbsp;At a get-together at a colleague's home, I saw a wall that was full of pictures from all over the world. I asked my friend's husband what countries he had been to. He laughed and said, "Perhaps it would be easier if you asked me what countries I have not been to." Indeed, as a flight crew, he had traveled the world. That was a turning point in my life. I had been stuck in one country for nine years, when there was a whole wide world out there. I made it a point to look for jobs that would allow me the same kind of mobility so I could broaden my horizon. Within a month, I identified a recruitment drive in Dubai for a cruise ship and passed the interview. I was to work on an Italian cruise ship as Assistant Chief Housekeeper. &nbsp;I remember the mixture of excitement and nervousness I felt when I first saw the ship at the dock: it had over 1,250 guest cabins and 800 crew cabins. It was so gigantic that when I tried to take pictures, the ship would not fit on my screen. My colleagues laughed at me saying it was a relatively small ship by industry standards and that they had worked in much bigger ones. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1293" height="1725" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  Life onboard is busy. Most of our guests are older people from all over the world who have the time and the money to travel around. As we hustle around the clock, it is easy to forget that we are in the middle of the ocean because the vessel is a world of its own. It does not matter where we are, really. Whether in the middle of the desert or ocean, we are working day and night to make money and provide for our families. Regardless of land or water, our lives revolve around that one day every month when we get our salary notification in our cell phone, this is what all this hustle is about. Everything else is secondary. I have now sailed to over 45 countries across the world in 17 months. It is like reading the review of a 300-page book: you just get a little taste of what those countries have to offer. At every port stop, we get to see the few main tourist spots, visit a couple of malls and have a meal before we hop back on to continue our journey. &nbsp;I make it a point to get good Indian or Nepali food, something I miss on board. But now that I am married, I am restless again. I am not as excited about traveling and meeting new people as I have been. My longing for home, to be with family, is growing stronger by the day. I can feel my priorities shifting, and it is just a matter of time before I act on it. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Mountain to desert to ocean

This is the 25th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; I am 70 years old, and finally got to travel to the UAE where two of my sons live. It was multiple firsts: the first time I left the country, the first time I got on a plane, and more importantly, it was the first time I saw what my sons, Krishna and Ram, had been describing to me for the last decades that they have been working overseas. We struggled to raise our children amidst poverty and hardship to ensure they got a good education, which was not easy. From dawn to dusk my husband and I looked for ways to ensure they were well fed and educated, while taking care of the livestock and farming.&nbsp; I did not have enough money to run a shop so I sold tidbits like chocolates, biscuits, cigarettes and bidi on a box by the wayside. Even this makeshift shop had its fair share of local customers in the village.&nbsp; When Krishna, my eldest, finished Grade 12, he decided to go abroad for employment. Not many people had left our village for overseas work in those days, unlike now when every house has someone abroad.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230308060348_419a84eb70a4d3131f66fbad99bd9a7a486242bc9bc2ddc73e6ca2b5e3279b9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 2"> </figure>  We were worried about sending him away, but he was determined to go. The only consolation was that we had a family member in the UAE who had helped Krishna secure his job, and would be there in case he needed support. Even then, we all wept when he left home, not knowing what to expect.&nbsp; He wrote us letters every month or so, and there was much relief when they arrived. My family members used to read out those letters to me and respond on my behalf. One message in Krishna's letters to us was not to &nbsp;compromise on the education of his siblings, like he had to.&nbsp; Ever since he went to the UAE 21 years ago, as the eldest son he had taken up the role of being the guardian of my children. Despite being young himself, he provided financial support for the family back in Nepal and ensured that his siblings had a good education. Fortunately, my children did not squander this opportunity and have done well for themselves.&nbsp; Even though Krishna sent us letters, it was only two years after he left that I first got to hear his voice. The shop with the phone was three hours away from our house, and I had to walk there to speak with him. The minute I heard his familiar voice, I choked and could not utter a single word. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230308060344_2b7622565be48a5407fbb4a4bfad30eff8cdd684bd788ab58bf296c1890f04d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 1"> </figure>  It was overwhelming and it felt like my son's voice was coming from a vacuum. The following year, he came home to visit for the first time. Since then, his trips have become more frequent.&nbsp; But this time, it was my turn to visit him in the UAE. My husband and I finally got to witness where two of my sons live. My youngest son Govinda, who is now in Nepal, is also a UAE returnee who after spending a few months there, quickly realised that if he was to progress like his brothers have in the UAE, he should first complete his studies so he returned mid-contract. I had seen the UAE through pictures and videos my sons showed me. But experiencing the place myself was completely different. The buildings are really tall, and the roads are wide. Everything is systematic.&nbsp; I especially liked how they treated my husband and me with respect in public places. We were not expected to wait in lines, for example. In Nepal, elderly people do not receive the same kind of respect.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230308060348_764ba063a4dd78891e9313833c53488cde096dd112fcf5926caab0bf0a3811a2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 3"> </figure>  &nbsp;Despite their busy schedules, my sons pampered us in the UAE for an entire month and showed us around. Even then, Krishna complains that he did not manage to take us to a couple of places he had planned because of time. I especially liked the tall aquarium and the botanical garden. We met many other Nepalis, I have lost count how many. There were at least a dozen from our own village who made it a point to come and see us. The person who drove us around was also from Arghakhanchi.&nbsp; Many of the Nepalis we met, reminded us just how lucky we were to be in the UAE. There are many Nepalis there, but not all parents have the luxury to visit their children.&nbsp; The Nepalis we met showered us with love and attention. One girl, in particular, who had lost her mother a few months back cried saying we reminded her of her parents, and that she missed them terribly. &nbsp;As we consoled her and gave her our blessings, we too could not stop our own tears.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/"> For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230308060348_09a945d0b8a91141d6a7355daf8ea087743fe52f3e0d58b093acc470101f4680" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 4"> </figure>  There were many moments like this when we felt emotional in the UAE. After all, it is a country in which my sons spent significant periods of their lives.&nbsp; One such moment was visiting Krishna's office, a travel company that he recently started in the UAE. At the office, they welcomed us with bouquets and sacred खादा scarfs. It is his perseverance that has brought him so far.&nbsp; He started small as an office boy 17 years ago and worked his way up, supporting &nbsp;his parents and siblings on his back as he rose. I could not have been prouder. What more can a mother ask?&nbsp; The month in the UAE went by quickly and I have come back bearing gifts for my grandchildren. I tell them we will visit my sons again “बाँचियो भने” (if we are still alive). Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20230308060352_714abdde7300a7d866c96050d869b77f281e0865ce049344975de509633fe467" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="A mother's sons NT 5"> </figure>  Because we were not used to travelling, Ram had come to Nepal to escort us to the UAE, and Krishna came back with us to Kathmandu. He will spend a few weeks with us, and this will make the separation somewhat easier.&nbsp; I have six children and ten grandchildren but such is life that other than during festival times, we do not get to see everyone. As they say, “छोरीहरु अर्काको घर जाने जात, छोराहरु कमाउन जाने जात” (the daughters get married and move out, the sons get jobs and move out). &nbsp; Because of my sons, we now live in a पक्की house in Butwal, very different from our thatch-roof home in the village which had खरको छानो and later a tin roof. Our home in the village is now empty. We go there once a year during festivals, when the abandoned house comes to life temporarily as we fill it with laughter, भैलो music and singing.&nbsp; Krishna refuses to let me sell the village house even though it is locked up most of the year. He does not want to give up the clan home where he was born and raised. There is too much emotional attachment.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cut-from-a-different-cloth/">Cut from a different cloth</a> Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

A mother's sons

This is the 24th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/here-now/diaspora-diaries/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. [dropcap]O[/dropcap]ne of my earliest memories growing up in Butwal is my maternal uncle coming home with cakes on our birthdays. He ran a bakery and his arrival with cakes and other tasty pastries during festivities made me associate the profession with joy and good memories. Perhaps this is what instaled a passion for baking since my early childhood. Like my uncle, I also wanted to bring joy to others. From Butwal, I went to Kathmandu for further studies and an undergraduate in hotel management was a natural choice. My uncle had taught me things practically and a formal education pushed me to understand the theory behind what I had seen and learnt in his bakery while growing up. I chose baking as my specialisation. When Covid-19 hit, I immersed myself completely into the art of baking, and kept myself busy. I had moved back to Butwal and worked at my uncle’s bakery. The lockdown and closing of the world had made time available in abundance and I found ways to stay productive. From a loyal customer in my uncle’s bakery as a little girl, I had now transitioned to become his protégé, baking cakes in the mornings and bread in the evenings. It came naturally to me, and I realised that this is what I want to do all my life. Baking is exciting because it combines dedication, creativity and patience, and can transform seemingly familiar household items that are lying around in the kitchen like flour, oil and sugar to rise into mouth-watering delicacies. I particularly like preparing birthday cakes because it allows me to indirectly contribute to and become part of peoples’ lives and celebration. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230303150320_267981e4e01c806b8d419798715b1067221059d8cb46ce69d899bd5edcdef0eb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230303150320_267981e4e01c806b8d419798715b1067221059d8cb46ce69d899bd5edcdef0eb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1901" height="1533" loading="lazy" alt="Baking as a metaphor for life NT 2"></figure>  When things started getting repetitive at my uncle’s bakery, I moved back to Kathmandu and took up internships at Yak &amp; Yeti and the Marriott. These short-term stints were enjoyable, but what I really wanted was an actual job, and like all Nepalis, I was faced with the dilemma of staying back or leaving. Having worked in Nepal in different places already, I felt like an overseas job had more to offer by way of learning, and would give me exposure. A job advertisement for a vacancy at the Atlantis in Dubai in my college social media group caught my eyes. The ‘free visa free ticket’ scheme as advertised felt like a scam, since most recruiting agencies falsely advertise such offers despite charging workers exorbitantly. But when I asked around, I found out that the job facilitated by my recruiter, Vision and Value Overseas, indeed was free and the aspirants were not charged a single penny. This was too good to be true. Perks like these and the possibility of working at a luxury hotel made the choice to try for an overseas job easy and exciting. I applied, and the recruitment fair was conveniently held at the Yak &amp; Yeti, the hotel where I was working on a temporary contract. But my heart sank when I did not see my name in the list of selected candidates. Two months later, however, I successfully passed the interview round in another ethical recruitment drive for the same hotel by the same recruiter for which I had prepared more seriously. Until then, I had not told anyone that I had applied for overseas jobs. My baker uncle was the first person I consulted with when I had the offer, and he encouraged me to pursue my overseas dream. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230303150320_5322ce4f8213bd190624aa3dc0be6d67ce2db8bea1b7c30ce206432a902c0a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230303150320_5322ce4f8213bd190624aa3dc0be6d67ce2db8bea1b7c30ce206432a902c0a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1672" height="1700" loading="lazy" alt="Baking as a metaphor for life NT 3"></figure>  It has been four months since I came here to Dubai, but I have already learnt a lot. I get to work with colleagues from diverse backgrounds, but it is also humbling to know that despite the language and cultural differences, we are all the same. Whether from Mexico, Ukraine or Nepal, we are here in search of better learning and earning opportunities with hopes of improving our lives and pursuing our passions. There is a strong emphasis on soft skills like team work and communications. While there were language barriers initially, I think my English has now vastly improved. As someone new here, I am still in my learning phase but then again, when does learning really stop? I may have learnt how to make bread in Nepal, for example, but am also exploring new methods to do so in the UAE as there are differences in the ingredients used and procedures followed. Hygiene, in particular, is of incomparable standards in the kitchen here. I also have it easier than many because my own brother and a cousin also work together in another hotel in the UAE as bartenders. Having a support system of family members overseas has definitely helped me adjust here. I earn six to seven times more than what I did in Nepal, and am able to send support to my mother and sometimes, even to my grandparents, even though they are reluctant to accept what I send. At this luxury hotel, it is common to see high profile visitors, even though waiters and those in customer facing roles get to interact with them more than we in kitchen who are behind the curtains. But I was fortunate enough to watch a Beyoncé show during our hotel opening. It was exciting beyond words. My ultimate dream is to become a Pastry Chef, but as a Commis III, I still have a long way to go. My journey has just begun. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a> Translated from a phone conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Baking as a metaphor for life

Sometimes, we need to take a step back to realise what a tectonic movement Nepali politics witnessed this month.
In a region and world ruled by elected authoritarians, Nepalis &nbsp;went to the ballot box freely to express a collective will for change.
These faces in this group photo of the RSP’s 180 freshly-minted MPs at the ballroom of the Royal Tulip Hotel on Wednesday is symbolic of what Nepal has come through.&nbsp;
The ship of state righted itself after the September Storm, installing an interim government that held an election within six months in which voters banished obsolete politicians and their parties into oblivion.
Nepalis, fed up with the inept kakistocracy of the past three decades, took the country into a post-ideological phase — replacing Marxists, Maoists and monarchists &nbsp;with a belief in a new governing culture that rewards delivery and accountability. And they have trusted the RSP to carry it through.
Nepal’s history has never been linear, it jerks ahead in lurches. The polity also tends to take one step forward and two steps back, so the public’s great expectations is tempered by a sense of cautious optimism and guarded pessimism.
This could be the great leap forward that Nepalis have waited for and deserve, but it could also be a Gramscian interregnum in which the old is dead and the new is not yet born. We will have to wait to see whether this transitional period will also see ‘morbid symptoms’.
As disruptor-in-chief, it was the Balendra Shah ‘wave’ or ‘craze’ that propelled the RSP to power. The former Kathmandu mayor needed a party platform, and the RSP’s tainted leader Rabi Lamichhane required a booster. Nepal's voters were looking for a saviour.
Personality-wise Shah and Lamichhane are poles apart: one is Type B and the other Type A. One is enigmatic, the other phlegmatic. But yin and yang do also tend to complement each other.&nbsp;
Kathmandu’s chattering class is already making self-fulfilling prophecies about the two falling out, and are fishing for hints that they already have. Shah’s absence from the RSP’s orientation this week was taken as a clue.&nbsp;
Closing the two-day tutorial on Wednesday, Lamichhane delivered a fiery 30-minute speech that laid out the RSP’s main agenda: to function differently from the old parties, serve the people, avoid middlemen, become true lawmakers without taking the law into their own hands.&nbsp;
“The old political parties contributed to history, we will build the future with a new political contract with citizens,” he said, trying to rise over past controversies and his abrasive rhetoric to sound statesmanlike.&nbsp;
GIVE AND TAKE
Lamichhane is said to be in touch with the reclusive Shah to announce a compact cabinet next week. Its composition will be an indication of how much give-and-take there was, and whether the criteria for selecting ministers is competence or loyalty.
Will RSP ministers behave like rulers or service providers? The new government will dive right into the economic fallout of the West Asia war with soaring fuel &nbsp;prices, inflation and uncertainty about remittance inflows.
On Thursday, Gagan Thapa resigned as NC chair, taking moral responsibility for the party’s election loss. The UML’s unrepentant K P Oli does not share the same sentiment about who is responsible for his own party’s historic downfall.&nbsp;
NCP chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who was luckier than his cross-party cohort, is now a comparative relic in a Parliament largely comprised of freshmen and sophomore lawmakers.
But the NC, UML and NCP still control provincial and most municipal governments. The old parties could try to make things difficult for the RSP at the centre, but it is also an opportunity for them to clean up their act ahead of local elections next year.&nbsp;
Another test for the RSP will be dealing with a heavily-politicised klepto-bureaucracy which has to frontend its policy decisions. &nbsp;

People’s power

The RSP and its prime minister are being sworn in this week after gaining an unprecedented election victory. This is a welcome change for many Nepalis who see it as a remedy to decades of coalition instability.&nbsp; Yet Nepal’s political history suggests otherwise. No majority government has ever completed its full term. This reveals a deeper structural problem: weakly institutionalised parties dominated by personalities rather than ideas. 1951: Dissatisfaction with the oppressive Rana regime among the educated elite led to the creation of political parties like the Nepali Congress (NC), Praja Parishad (later merged into the Nepali Congress), Gorkha Parishad, and the Nepal Communist Party.&nbsp; They emerged secretly, mainly in India during the height of that country’s independence. They organised a successful armed uprising against the Rana rule.&nbsp; 1959: The NC won a two-thirds supermajority in the first general election. Within a year, King Mahendra staged a coup and established the partyless absolute monarchy called the Panchayat system.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130332_a416ab5703287898f0566dc6d2a6b95d797ce2f4ed55bffcfae2e8edc7737c5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260322130332_a416ab5703287898f0566dc6d2a6b95d797ce2f4ed55bffcfae2e8edc7737c5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="675" height="849" loading="lazy" alt="Mahendra and BP"> </figure>  1991: After the People’s Movement, the ban on parties was lifted and Nepal became a constitutional monarchy. Elections were held under a new Constitution and the NC won 110 out of 205 seats, joining the United Leftist Front which functioned as a loose coalition.&nbsp; Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala’s first term ended with his resignation due to infighting, particularly with Ganesh Man Singh, who accused him of <a href="https://doi.org/10.2307/2645025" target="_blank">“emerging as a dictator, downgrading democratic norms and values, and even selling out national interests.”</a> Parliament was dissolved and the NC ended up losing the ensuing elections. 1994: Following the NC’s defeat, a <a href="https://doi.org/10.2307/2645025" target="_blank">hung parliament emerged</a> with the UML forming a minority government that lasted only nine months before collapsing after a no-confidence vote, allowing a NC-led coalition to return to power.&nbsp; 1999: Voters gave the NC a second chance and the party won 111 out of 205 seats. The party was divided between supporters of Koirala and Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, who became prime minister. &nbsp;The internal NC power struggle intensified and Koirala became prime minister again only to face bribery scandals, the Maoist insurgency, and the royal massacre.&nbsp; In 2001, under growing pressure from both the public and the party, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/20/world/nepal-premier-resigns-caught-in-chaos-after-royal-blood-bath.html" target="_blank">Koirala was forced to resign</a> to be replaced by Sher Bahadur Deuba. The party eventually split into Koirala’s NC and Deuba’s NC (Democratic). &nbsp;In this chaos, king Gyanendra dissolved the parliament and assumed executive powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130332_e107b95de5641044f72a13fd20f417d16b9a2d1ecbae3492126ee5fd4244bd84.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260322130332_e107b95de5641044f72a13fd20f417d16b9a2d1ecbae3492126ee5fd4244bd84" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="753" loading="lazy" alt="Deuba and Girija"> </figure>  2017: This was the first election under the federal constitution. The UML and Maoists created a surprise pre-electoral alliance, breaking the Maoist coalition with the NC. The left alliance won a massive victory with the UML winning 121 seats and the Maoists 53 seats. Prime Minister K P Oli fell out with Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoists. The House was dissolved, with the UML itself breaking into factions. What followed was seven shaky coalition governments in eight years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130352_8b09b374d7fcb811e0a652c7f60b30eea4b9052a19ed3d768ba8ca9aaeb4dec7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260322130352_8b09b374d7fcb811e0a652c7f60b30eea4b9052a19ed3d768ba8ca9aaeb4dec7" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Oli and Prachanda"> </figure>  2022: The RSP was formed only four months prior to elections, but managed to become the fourth-largest party. In this month’s &nbsp;election, the RSP won a commanding parliamentary majority by presenting itself to the electorate as different from the discredited old parties.&nbsp; The RSP leadership structure is largely personality-driven and opaque. Party leader Rabi Lamichhane joined the governing coalition with the Maoists and UML securing four ministerial positions. Lamichhane became Home Minister and Deputy Prime Minister, using his swing vote to be the kingmaker party in the coalition. Lamichhane was embroiled in various scandals which he blamed on political vendetta. There was internal dissent within the party and among supporters who felt the coalition betrayed RSP’s founding ideals.&nbsp; Lamichhane <a href="https://thediplomat.com/2023/02/key-ally-quits-government-in-nepal/" target="_blank">reportedly</a> bypassed the party’s internal mechanisms, unilaterally deciding to pull out of the government without broad consultation.&nbsp; The youth-led September protests gave the RSP an opportunity to represent GenZ aspirations, and its popularity was cemented after Balendra Shah joined the party as a prime ministerial candidate.&nbsp; With its dramatic election victory, there is a question whether the &nbsp;party can separate itself from its two leaders, and have internal democracy. Or will it just be a vessel for new political elites to continue staying in power?&nbsp; ‘BALEN PARTY’ The RSP has increasingly relied on the same tactics that the NC once used in its heyday. Backed by Balendra Shah’s meteoric rise to fame, the RSP is called ‘The Balen Party’. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cyberia/rsp-s-pr-list-is-not-good-pr" target="_blank">RSP’s PR list</a> includes celebrities, actors, singers, pageant winners, business personalities, and athletes to maximise visibility and public appeal. Many of these soon-to-be MPs have little to no experience working in government, or together as a team. Which is perhaps why they needed a two-day orientation last week. In today’s attention economy, political currency depends on visibility. This is why the RSP’s strategy to harness Shah’s popularity was necessary to secure victory, while Shah needed a political platform for the election.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130348_abd1522a1f4f8ad4a0861c3916d86bd9688deafc7c44081b976378405d2b8e39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260322130348_abd1522a1f4f8ad4a0861c3916d86bd9688deafc7c44081b976378405d2b8e39" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Balen and Rabi"> </figure>  Political parties are essential for a democracy, but when they &nbsp;revolve around one dominant leader, internal institutions become weak, and decision-making becomes centralised in the leader rather than in party committees, rules, or ideological platforms.&nbsp; This is exactly what led to the downfall of the NC and the UML. Both over the years were ridden with inter- and intra-party strife and failed the electorate. RSP must take a lesson from this and unite to institutionalise beyond its two personalities. Or it will suffer the same fate as the legacy parties. Since its inception, RSP has espoused a populist and anti-establishment agenda. The ‘new’ RSP with the Balendra brand gained massive support by being a clear ‘other’.&nbsp; The RSP can fall into the same trap as the NC and the UML by defining itself by what it is not, rather than what it is for. Beyond the external enemies they oppose, these parties often struggle to articulate what they actually stand for.&nbsp; RSP positions itself as an alternative to established parties — a pragmatic, results-oriented political force rather than one driven by traditional ideologies. However,<a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/theorizing-in-comparative-politics/parties-and-ideology/8386083191B53EC86A239B8852D4A6A6" target="_blank"> ideology gives a party identity and direction.</a> Without ideological grounding, RSP risks becoming a hollow vessel for power-chasing politicians who oppose each other’s every move, a story that is all too familiar.&nbsp; RSP can no longer define itself as being anti-establishment. It is now the establishment.&nbsp; While RSP might look like Congress 2.0 to many who have seen Nepal’s democratic trajectory, RSP does differ from past majority parties in both positive and negative ways.&nbsp; Times have also changed. Nepal is no longer a monarchy, literacy rates are much higher, social media has made information more accessible, and Nepalis are less forgiving, as seen by the events that transpired on 8-9 September 2025.&nbsp; The RSP has fielded more qualified candidates, and they could steer the country in the right direction. Many are experts in their fields and have had years of experience prior to joining politics. Having experts from such different backgrounds is a huge asset.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130352_426011e8c377bffcef6fcb4371325b36fb940eb5a8ab66d3c76ff5cf6f1943c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260322130352_426011e8c377bffcef6fcb4371325b36fb940eb5a8ab66d3c76ff5cf6f1943c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="RSP new MPs"> </figure>  Moreover, having MPs from various other parties/fields can also prevent a cult following of hardcore loyalists within the party.&nbsp; There are members loyal to certain RSP leaders in the party, but there are also those who will not hesitate to go against their leaders if need be. The RSP has little opposition in Parliament, so its own members may have to take on a check-and-balance role. Nepal is in a much better spot institutionally compared to what it was like back in the early days of its democracy. There is a Constitution, there is no active conflict, the monarchy is no longer an existential threat to democracy, and the local and provincial governmental bodies have had the time to settle.&nbsp; This means the RSP is in a better position to work without the basic institutional hurdles that previous governments faced, but it will not be able to hide behind institutional issues if it fails to deliver.&nbsp; In the past, majority parties could easily pin the blame on an authoritarian monarchy, a Maoist conflict, a lack of consensus during the constitution-building process, or a newly implemented federal system.&nbsp; Most of these were just excuses for incompetency. Governments were formed and fell based on self-serving negotiations, but they managed to keep the parties afloat, and the citizenry was willing to give them a second, third, or even fourth chance.&nbsp; The RSP will not have this privilege. Nepal has many problems, but its governmental bodies are better institutionalised than when the NC last had a majority. A challenge for RSP now would be fixing broken institutions, not building new ones. A recurring issue during Balendra Shah’s tenure as Kathmandu’s mayor were his <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/politics/2026/01/28/can-nepal-s-viral-mayor-run-the-country" target="_blank">disputes with the bureaucracy</a> that resulted in months of unpaid salary for KMC staff, a lack of collaboration between him and Deputy Mayor Sunita Dangol, and rarely any public appearances.&nbsp; The RSP is inheriting a bureaucracy tainted by deep-seated patronage networks. Sustaining a government requires institutional collaboration and a willingness to work together, not disruption and division.&nbsp; While Nepal has seen the rise of many populist figures in its democratic history, the RSP’s victory based on Balendra Shah’s fame is new. Populism is usually harmful for a democracy because it punishes dissent, turns criticism into betrayal, and fuels hyper-nationalism, authoritarianism, and polarisation. A trend of punishing criticism is already visible on online spaces. Without an effective parliamentary opposition, the responsibility for democratic accountability will fall on the media and civil society. If the trend of intolerance to criticism deepens, Nepal risks sliding toward a majoritarian politics where popularity replaces accountability. Time and again, the Nepali people have given opportunities to parties that promise change, only to face disappointment. Nepal’s political history shows that majority governments fail not because they lack seats, but because they lack institutions.&nbsp; The electoral earthquake Nepal just witnessed could bring sweeping reforms or drown the country’s fragile democracy. If RSP hopes to succeed where others failed, it must build a party that outlives its founders. Suvexa Pradhan Tuladhar is an Early Career Policy Research Fellow at the Nepal Institute for Policy Research (NIPoRe).

Will it be different this time in Nepal?

Deadly floods two years ago along the southern fringes of Kathmandu Valley killed 200 people. Climate change was blamed, but the destruction was magnified by quarries and sand mining owned by local politicians and crony contractors. Disaster mitigation and environmental risk was not a priority for any of the political parties that ran and won Nepal’s election last week. Although the RSP has a supermajority, rural municipalities that grant mining contracts are still ruled by the established parties that supply aggregates and sand to feed &nbsp;Kathmandu’s construction boom. Here in Lele Valley, residents are worried about another monsoon season that will start in June and fear more floods bringing unmanaged gravel from quarries down the Nallu River.&nbsp; The house of Sanumaya Nagarkoti, 65, and ten neighbours were washed away by the flood on the night of 28 September 2024. She and her husband petitioned the ward and municipal council to remove the crushers but no one listened. The slopes above are scarred by landslides from two years ago, and the banks of the river are strewn with bounders the size of cars that were brought down. “We live in constant fear of landslides,” says Chakra Nagarkoti, “the heavy crusher machinery and tipper trucks also constantly shake the house.”&nbsp; Google Earth images show that 24.6 hectares of mountain flanks have been excavated since 2010, and despite the disaster no lessons have been learnt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="907" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  The RSP might have got a near two-thirds majority in Parliament but decision-making at the community level is controlled by politicians in cahoots with contractors.&nbsp; Along the Mahadev Khola, the Department of Mines cancelled excavation permits for crushers citing flood and landslide risk. Yet there are still 21 contractors mining stones and sand.&nbsp; Nearby Godavari Municipality also instructed operators who had not renewed permits to close down. No action was taken. One of them is Vinayak Multipurpose which delivers aggregate and stones for United Cement. Local ward chair Milan Silwal, has a stake in Vinayak and locals accuse him of taking the side of industry.&nbsp; Another slope is being gouged out near Mahadev Khola, and comparing satellite imagery from 2010 shows that the scar on the mountain is now five times bigger.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>United Cement operating near Mahadev Khola. Photo: ARCHANA DARJI</figcaption> </figure>  Nearby stands the lone house of 55-year-old Sabina Tamang, who lives with her husband and daughter. Due to the sound of the stone-breakers, they cannot hear each other speak. “Last year, a landslide destroyed our cowshed and latrine,” she says. “Next it is going to be our home.”&nbsp; DRY SPRINGS Lele gets its water from several perennial springs which have gone dry in recent years. One of them is near where the cement factory quarries limestone. “We hardly get any water, and the little that does flow is murky and red,” says local resident Rajesh Shrestha. A parliamentary committee directive ordered excavation to stop 15 years ago after a similar flood to the one in 2024.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="494" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Lele over the years. Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  United Cement’s manager Hari Upreti says his company has fulfilled all requirements and has permission to mine 15 hectares of its own property and 4 hectares of government land. “We have the Department of Mines permit which is valid till 2036 and extract 1,600 tons of limestone every day,” says Upreti. “The local community knew about the mining and if there is a problem with springs going dry it is not because of us.” Environmental researcher Uttambabu Shrestha, however, says there is a direct correlation between the quarry operation and floods, landslides and dry springs.&nbsp; “Extraction should not be allowed without an environmental impact assessment, and companies must stick to set limits,” he says. Investigation of permits show that there is collusion between local officials and contractors. Godavari-6 Chair Bishnuman Maharjan has investment in two quarries and crusher companies operating along Nallu Khola. A paper trail links Maharjan also to Sagarmatha Stone Crusher and Mankamana Aggregate Industries. IMPUNITY&nbsp; Godavari Municipality published a notice in June 2024, instructing crusher companies to submit environmental reports within two weeks, covering initial examination and impact assessment. It also told them to pay local development fees and clear outstanding dues. The municipality even wrote to the Department of Mines clarifying that it had issued permits to only five out of 27 contractors. Within a month, the Department wrote to the District Administration Office (DAO) and District Police Office instructing them to stop illegal excavation, and sent a copy to the Lalitpur Division Forest Office. The DAO then wrote to Lalitpur Police naming Machindranath Multipurpose as operating illegally and should be shut down. There was no followup. The municipality then issued fines worth Rs 60 million to it and one other company for non-compliance. The companies stalled, disputing the calculations.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="2250" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Another site of extraction near Mahadev Khola in Godavari. </figcaption> </figure>  Machhindranath Multipurpose operator Kedar Timalsina Shashi denies doing anything wrong, and says the landslides were collateral damage because of the steep terrain. When contacted Godavari Municipality Deputy Mayor Muna Adhikari declined to comment. It has been 10 years since Rajesh Shrestha, Nikesh Shrestha, and others raised their voices against the environmental destruction caused by the construction mafia. An agreement was finally reached two years ago between locals and mining and transport businessmen, stipulating that stone mines must close permanently by mid-2025. The agreement also stated that check dams must be built to manage mining debris, and damaged structures must be restored to their original state. Trees were to be planted at sites where stone mines had operated. But the mines in the catchment are still in operation with 500 tipper trucks working on the site every day, transporting stones and aggregate. Local youth have continued holding sit-in street protests and at Lalitpur DAO.&nbsp; After one sit-in, the mines closed for about a month but they started back up a month later.&nbsp; Birendra Maharjan owns one of the crusher units, and says he follows all environmental protocols. He told us: “You need stones to build, and we must dig to extract stones. Some trees have to be cut, people get employment, and besides, floods and landslides happen across Nepal.” &nbsp;&nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism – Nepal.

Loot in Lele

This week, the RSP held a two-day closed orientation camp for its newly elected members of Parliament. The party has also decided to assign parliamentary and Cabinet roles to leaders only after the new MPs are sworn in on 28 March.&nbsp;
This means the new prime minister and his cabinet of 15 ministers are likely to be installed closer to the Nepali New Year, and the expectation is that it will also usher in a new era of governance and politics in Nepal.&nbsp;
Between now and then, there is much speculation regarding who will become new ministers and from which camp—Balendra Shah's or Rabi Lamichanne’s. Meanwhile, the final argument in the petition against the Rabi Lamichanne case revision is set for Thursday, with a verdict expected on the same day.
“In the past, parties did anything to form coalitions and to keep them from splitting ministries and appointing anyone they wanted to, even going against the spirit of the Constitution, but the RSP doesn’t need to partake in any such activities,” says political analyst Indra Adhikari.
Adhikari notes that governance failures in the past was often the result of coalition governments formed through political bargaining that meant the primary party often had to compromise on their agenda.&nbsp;
“But nothing is stopping the party from fulfilling its election manifesto,” she says. “And if they aren’t able to deliver, we know Nepalis are prone to protests, so another revolt is also a possibility.”
Journalist and author Mohan Mainali agrees that the everyday Parliamentary proceedings should go smoothly for new government because of their majority.&nbsp;
But there are questions as to what a near two-thirds majority allows the RSP to achieve in Parliament. Its 182 seats in the Lower House allows the party to enact and amend laws without hurdles and bypass Upper House’s request for Bill revisions. But the RSP has no presence in the National Assembly, and that means that its majority in the Lower House is not enough to amend the Constitution.&nbsp;
“The Constitution poses no obstacles for the RSP to work on improving governance, development and delivery,” says Mainali. &nbsp;“If they do show some performance, it will be easier for them to go into the next election and ask for a two-thirds majority to also amend the constitution,” he adds.
The last coalition government of the UML and Nepali Congress before the GenZ protests had been built upon a primary agreement to make amendments to the Constitution. So, depending on the nature of amendments, the RSP might find some support within the National Assembly at a time when some of the older parties, such as the Nepali Congress, have committed to supporting the new government as well as internal party reforms.
“What we need is a structural overhaul, from our laws and foreign policy to economy and security apparatus, and for this the RSP needs to champion collaboration and consultation for the sake of nation building,” says Indra Adhikari. “So it all comes down to the understanding and judgment of the RSP’s leadership. If they try to go at it alone, it will lead nowhere.”
To be sure, the provincial government could also clean up their act before the next local and provincial elections, which would help the older parties to regain some of their lost footing and rebuild trust.
As it stands, RSP lawmakers will also have to learn to work with each other. Mainali notes that the RSP not being bound by one clear ideology might lead to future problems, including the rumoured animosity between party president Rabi Lamichhane and prime minister-in-waiting Balendra Shah.
“Parties that came before the RSP had an ideology, whether they followed them or not, but the RSP is made of different kinds of people,” says Mainali. “If they are not motivated by a common goal of achieving something tangible in the next five years, it might be difficult for them to stay together.”
Adds Adhikari: “Balendra and Rabi don’t seem to be compatible. Rabi has already failed when it comes to the matters of governance, and Balendra won’t carry that burden. Additionally, there is a struggle between the two in terms of party hierarchy.”
Speaking at the closing of the two-day orientation, from which Balendra Shah was noticably absent, Rabi Lamichanne said that the RSP’s image as intolerant needs to be changed, and that the country is not heading towards totalitarianism but is in the hands of good, new people.
Regardless of the assurance, the general public has seen Balendra Shah and Lamichanne’s disposition in the last several years, and analysts are worried that their personalities and ambition might lead to an environment of increased intolerance.&nbsp;
As it stands in absence of a strong opposition, the responsibility falls on the media and the civil society to be the watchdog and play an effective check and balance role.&nbsp;
“Seeing how Balendra has ignored the media so far and Rabi has made inflammatory remarks in the past, they are probably more intolerant than the likes of Trump and Modi,” says Mainali. He notes that the party does not just have technical human resource and cyber army but a large number of dedicated supporters.&nbsp;
The media must thus continue to build trust by highlighting good work, educating the public on the importance of impartial journalism in democracy and debate any Bill purposed in Parliament, Mainali adds.&nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “The media should praise the government when they do well, motivate them, but it should also point out wrongdoings without fear, and provide recommendations to do better. Otherwise, absolute power corrupts absolutely, which we have seen happen happen in America with Trump and in India with Modi, where extremism has taken over and democracy has been curtailed.”

nepali-migrants