While most Nepalis understand ‘media’ to mean tv (21.5%) and radio (20.6%), younger, urban, and educated audiences also equate Facebook (19.9%) and YouTube (16.9%) with 'media'. In provinces like Sudurpaschim, reliance on radio (40.4%) and tv (30.7%) far outpace digital platforms, but in Bagmati Province, Facebook (35.4%) and YouTube (32.8%) are more common sources of news. Respondents with at least a Bachelor’s degree are far more likely to associate media with both traditional and digital platforms, with 59.3% mentioning tv, 54.7% radio, and 42.1% citing Facebook. Defining Facebook as ‘media’ reflects its accessibility and role in delivering diverse, user-generated content that resonates with younger, urban, and educated audiences. This shift indicates a transition from traditional gatekeeping to algorithm-driven news consumption. Madhes and Karnali Provinces, with lower literacy rates and limited access to electricity and local media outlets, show lower media engagement. On the other hand, Bagmati and Gandaki Provinces have higher adoption of both traditional and digital platforms, indicating that media habits are shaped by infrastructure and socio-economic status.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226151224_88ff2e60339e15f20999c74052a4a4c1ddb5832218221b06fdc3c13bae550f4c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241226151224_88ff2e60339e15f20999c74052a4a4c1ddb5832218221b06fdc3c13bae550f4c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  However, a high proportion of ‘Don’t Know’ responses indicates gaps in media awareness, particularly in areas like Madhes Province, and among less-educated populations. For Nepal’s media sector, therefore, the challenge is to navigate this evolving landscape by balancing the strengths of traditional media with the growing demand for accessible and engaging digital content. While digital news is steadily gaining ground, tv and radio remain relevant for significant population segments. Print media, however, is in steady decline. News on mobiles  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_fd348dd2ddfe3b1035accf96a2959c179c80886f24244938276ebfd9288dd91c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241226141212_fd348dd2ddfe3b1035accf96a2959c179c80886f24244938276ebfd9288dd91c" data-rendition-name="original" width="868" height="645" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Digital platforms are increasingly the preferred medium for news, with 46.8% of respondents using the internet (33% of surveyed population) saying they read the news on their mobiles or computers. This trend is most pronounced in Gandaki (69.5%), Bagmati (53.2%), and Kosi (57.0%) Provinces. The younger, better educated are leading this digital shift. For example, 83.3% of respondents with higher education consume news digitally, compared to just 13.1% of illiterate respondents. The gap is evident in regions like Madhes, where only 19.9% engage with digital news, underscoring disparities in access and adoption. This digital transition can be attributed to the accessibility and convenience of mobile devices and the internet, the immediacy of digital news, and the interactive nature of online platforms. Younger and educated audiences increasingly prefer digital platforms for personalised and real-time content, which mainstream press often cannot match. Additionally, the declining relevance of traditional media in some regions stems from their limited ability to adapt to the fast-paced, on-demand consumption habits that digital platforms readily fulfill. This shift underscores the growing importance of technological access and user-centric content in shaping media preferences. Despite its gradual decline, television remains a significant medium, with 37.3% of respondents saying they have watched tv in the past three months. Tv is strongest in Bagmati (48.0%) and Kosi (43.6%) provinces, while Karnali lags at 22.7%. Respondents with higher education (60.7%) are more likely to watch tv than their less-educated counterparts with a notable gender disparity.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_775249f428ea98b1749613cf86585eaadc8382fb8145e2c9c609ddab6e9a7ab4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241226141212_775249f428ea98b1749613cf86585eaadc8382fb8145e2c9c609ddab6e9a7ab4" data-rendition-name="original" width="500" height="587" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Radio, once a dominant medium, now caters to a shrinking audience (32.2%). Print media faces the steepest decline (only 13.8% saying they read a newspaper or magazine in the past 6 months), with higher engagement only among urban (28.2%) and educated audiences. Lowest print usage is in Karnali (5.7%). But print still has remarkable staying power among those with higher education (53.4%). Of the surveyed population, 58% say they go to at least one of the legacy media, whereas 73% have internet access. The message for the mainstream press: innovate to remain relevant. Print outlets must rethink strategy, perhaps by targeting urban and educated audiences with specialised or niche content. Previous surveys had shown that many Nepalis would read print if it was available. Nepal’s media landscape is at a tipping point, and the industry must adapt to the changing and diverse needs of an evolving audience. In media we trust  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_d75127854185d1b944d0e2979824c064c3284c706711a41bba47c1ba07f4839b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241226141212_d75127854185d1b944d0e2979824c064c3284c706711a41bba47c1ba07f4839b" data-rendition-name="original" width="844" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  Respondents who primarily associate media with the mainstream press are more likely to express ‘Complete Trust’ or ‘Mostly Trust’ driven by the credibility they have built over the decades. Conversely, digital media audiences, while appreciating its accessibility and interactivity, have cautious optimism about the credibility of their content. Bagmati Province with Kathmandu Valley’s media hub leads in trust, with 47.2% expressing ‘Somewhat Trust’. While urban respondents generally report higher trust levels, there is some skepticism in rural areas. Younger respondents aged 16–24 show the highest levels of trust of digital platforms, highlighting their greater engagement and openness to newer forms of media. By contrast, older demographics, (age 60 and above) show lower trust and more uncertainty about online content. This generational divide shows that legacy media need to meet the expectations of younger audiences, while maintaining relevance for older groups. Respondents with higher education consume media more diversely and report higher trust levels (55.4%), while 45.2% of illiterate respondents remain uncertain, reflecting broader literacy, access, and inclusivity issues in the media landscape. The Nepal Media Survey 2024 shows a media landscape in which traditional and digital media coexist. While trust in media remains relatively strong, significant gaps in representation and accessibility persist across regions, age groups, and educational levels. Not surprisingly, younger urban audiences gravitate towards interactive digital platforms, while older and rural populations continue to rely on traditional media. However, pervasive uncertainties among specific demographics highlight the need for a more inclusive and localised approach. As Nepal’s media landscape evolves, it faces dual challenges: maintaining credibility and trust, while adapting to diverse and shifting consumption habits. Media stakeholders need to think about the steps they now need to take for their own survival, to ensure pluralism and healthy public debate, and ensure that the voices of the marginalised are included in the national conversation. Policymakers, media owners and journalists must strive to balance innovation with accessibility, fostering a trusted space that informs, empowers, and connects all Nepalis. This media transition is shaped by regional disparities, generational differences, and the growing dominance of digital platforms. Consumers of news An overwhelming majority (81.7%) of respondents report engaging with news in some form, underscoring a widespread appetite for staying informed. However, 18.3% do not use media for news at all either because of lack of access, or distrust. Regionally, news consumption is strongest in Bagmati (91.6%) and Sudurpaschim (90.5%), while Madhes (60.6%) lags significantly behind. This finding reflects potential challenges in access or outreach in the region. In rural areas, 79.5% of respondents consume news compared to 87.6% in cities. Urbanisation continues to drive higher engagement with media. Among social media platforms, Facebook (62.0%) and YouTube (44.4%) dominate, particularly among younger and urban audiences. In the 16-24 age group, 82.6% of respondents rely on Facebook as their primary news source, while 51.5% turn to YouTube. In contrast, their use of radio (23.6%) and tv (21.3%) is considerably lower. Among those 60 and above, 38.4% rely on radio and tv equally for news. Although Facebook is not a media platform in itself, the tendency to perceive posts on Facebook as ‘news’, or view content shared by traditional media on the site as originating from Facebook likely contributes to this perception. There is a blurring of boundaries between mainstream media and social media platforms, and the content they host. Print media is struggling to maintain relevance, with only 5.3% of respondents citing newspapers and magazines as their go-to news source. This sharp decline in print engagement suggests a broader shift toward instant, accessible digital content, leaving traditional formats struggling to adapt. Interestingly, media aggregate sites like Hamro Patro (6.2%) and emerging spaces like TikTok (1.4%) show how niche tools and apps carve out their own spaces in the news ecosystem. Higher education is a strong predictor of news consumption with 99.1% of respondents using news content in one form or other. Only 52.1% of illiterate respondents engage with news, raising issues of literacy, access, and media inclusion. Responsive media  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241226141212_2201d79424e162f11ab79f3de8675cd7da8018f71cc99ebd49bd9961d362d3cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241226141212_2201d79424e162f11ab79f3de8675cd7da8018f71cc99ebd49bd9961d362d3cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="898" height="810" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal Media Survey 2024"></figure>  The question of how much Nepali media cares about the public issues reveals disparities across regions, demographics, and platforms. While 38.5% of respondents believe the media cares about their needs, a significant 31.2% feels otherwise, with 20% are uncertain. Confidence in media is strongest in Bagmati and Karnali, while Sudurpaschim and Madhes highlight gaps in engagement and relatable coverage. This divide reflects earlier findings about Nepal’s media landscape, where digital platforms dominate urban and younger demographics, while traditional platforms hold sway in rural and older populations. Nepal’s journalism needs to bridge this gap in representation and trust by creating inclusive, localised content that resonates with diverse audiences. The age, urban-rural and education divide is also reflected in how media responsiveness is perceived. The survey result shows that while journalism is often seen as addressing more significant national issues, it struggles to connect with individual or localised concerns with a persistent trust gap and regional disparities. This likely stems from the media’s tendency to prioritise macro-level narratives, such as politics and societal challenges which resonate on a broader scale, while often overlooking the lived experiences of individuals or underrepresented communities. Over half of respondents (51.3%) feel that journalism cares ‘A Great Deal’, ‘Quite a Bit’, about public concerns, while 34.2% feel the media pays only ‘Slight’ or ‘No’ attention to their needs. Age and education continue to influence perceptions of media responsiveness. Younger respondents aged 16–34 are more optimistic, with over 35% stating journalism cares ‘Quite a lot’ about public concerns. However, confidence diminishes among older age groups, where 39.8% of those aged 60 and above express uncertainty. Urban respondents (35.2%) consistently report higher trust in media responsiveness compared to 33.8% in rural areas. This data aligns with earlier findings, where urban audiences, engaging more with digital platforms, feel better represented. The contrast between personal and public perceptions suggests that while Nepali journalism is recognised for addressing large-scale, national issues, it struggles to connect with localised or individual concerns. Digital platforms, which dominate urban and younger audiences, likely contribute to the more positive perceptions of media care for public concerns. In comparison, mainstream media, which is used more by older and rural audiences, may not foster the same level of trust or engagement. Nepal’s traditional press must balance coverage of national issues with more relevant local content to build lasting trust. Bridging this gap requires headline-worthy grassroots storytelling that resonates with individuals and communities while building a national narrative, fostering trust and representation in society. Madhu Acharya is the CEO/President, and Bhumiraj Chapagain, PhD, is the Research Director at Sharecast Data Initiative.

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What do Nepalis think of the media?

The scenes from Dhaka on Monday were eerily similar to the ransacking of the residences of Ferdinand Marcos or Gotabaya Rajapaksa. Protesters took selfies lying on Sheikh Hasina’s bed (pictured above), they lounged on her sofas, feasted on biryani, and looted whatever was portable.&nbsp;
As is usually the case, it only takes a spark to light a revolt when a people’s fury at ruthless rulers reaches the tipping point. Hasina’s regime cracked down brutally on demonstrators, killing more than 300.&nbsp;
After another day of bloodshed on 4 August, Hasina lost support of the security forces, and jubilant protesters watched as their <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2024/08/05/asia/bangladesh-prime-minister-residence-stormed-intl/index.html">prime minister of 15 years fly off to India</a>. Army Chief Waker-Uz-Zaman announced an interim government would be formed.
There is a vital lesson from what has happened in Bangladesh for the rest of South Asia and beyond. Rulers cannot rest on their laurels just because they were freedom fighters. If citizens do not benefit from regime change, they will sweep rulers into the dustbin of history.
History is replete with examples of despots who plunder, torture and kill opponents, but are overthrown sooner or later. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/aug/05/why-bangladesh-prime-minister-sheikh-hasina-resigned">Sheikh Hasina</a>, was elected for the fifth time in a rigged election in January that was boycotted by the opposition BNP, and accepted only by India.
Hasina's fate is also a lesson for regional powers who back tyrants for geopolitical reasons: what they gain from such support can be tenuous and short-lived.
Nepal is presently not ruled by an elected despot, our press is the freest in the region, and the check and balance of democracy here function relatively well. Yet, the events in Bangladesh have an important lesson for our elderly rulers and mass media.&nbsp;
Are we in the media also partly to blame for increasing public frustration with politics as usual that is making Nepalis cynical and apathetic?
Nepal’s new politicians have exploited the fecklessness of old rulers by using the new media to gather populist support. Journalists are seen to be comrades-in-arms of the legacy leaders, and are collectively held responsible for Nepal’s decline.&nbsp;
In the age of citizen journalism, there is a misconception that the mass media has become redundant. However, in-depth journalism is more essential than ever to help citizens navigate information overload, disinformation and deep fakes.&nbsp;
The mobile phone and its algorithm-driven networking platforms are more for entertainment than information. And if information is a major part of content, then more often than not it is fake news and toxic trolling. Readership has not decreased, it has just migrated, and the sources of information have changed.
The main reason Nepal's politicians and journalists find themselves targetted is because they played active roles together in the people power movements of 1990 and 2006.
Indeed, journalists have been at the forefront of the restoration and protection of democracy and in upholding press freedom — through the conflict years, and after king Gyanendra’s coup in 2005.&nbsp;
But <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/stemming-asia-s-democratic-decay">when democracy fails to deliver</a>, the public and populists tend to blame not just elected politicians, but also journalists.&nbsp;
The irony is that Nepal’s leadership is reluctant to credit the mass media for helping defend democracy and making it possible for them to get to power. Instead, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/press-for-people">many politicians would like to muzzle the media</a> because of its role in holding their power to account and exposing corruption in high places.&nbsp;
The media is playing its mandated adversarial role in Nepal’s democracy, but click-bait media and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/democracy-s-discontents">populist politicians</a> see public-interest journalism as competition for public attention.
We in the legacy media therefore find ourselves being distrusted by old guard politicians, and as rivals by YouTubers and TikTokers.
The state itself refuses thus far to recognise the communication enterprise as an industry, and successive governments <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/gagging-the-press-in-installments">have tried to weaken the traditional mass media by laws and policies</a>. The ban on alcohol ads on grounds of public health, even though such goods can be openly bought and consumed, is part of that strategy.&nbsp;
New leaders like Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah were propelled to power by new media. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepals-home-minister-vs-the-media">RSP’s Rabi Lamichhane</a> also fanned cyber-populism to get elected, which is why he is so dismissive of the ‘Dirty Dozen’ (१२-भाइ एडिटर) of the legacy media that exposed his wrongdoings.
The lesson from the Bangladesh upheaval for Nepal’s rulers who have been at the helm now for decades is this: clean up your act and start delivering, or else face a similar fate.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/clywww69p2vo">Sheikh Hasina</a> persecuted the press, allowing social pressure to build up until it all exploded in her face. A free press is democracy’s safety valve, and it is in the self-interest of Nepal’s political parties to defend it.
Gunaraj Luitel is the Chief Editor of Nagarik Daily in Kathmandu.
@gunaraj

Selfies on the prime minister’s bed

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

In December we headlined an analysis in this paper that the election was going to be a fight between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-2026-eyyt3itl">Old and New</a>. With just a month to go for polls, it is now looking more like New vs New.
The symbolic Balendra Shah vs K P Oli struggle has now been replaced by a face-off between Shah and Gagan Thapa, the new leader of the Nepali Congress (NC).
The Tarai with its vast vote bank has become the battleground for this fight with Shah contesting against Oli in Jhapa and Thapa standing in Sarlahi. And social media is the arena for this epic clash of personality cults.
Which means that instead of finding solutions to problems like health, education, jobs, inflation and social welfare, it is all about optics and stunts. AI-generated and algorithm-driven memes are influencing people’s choices.
“This is not democracy but a very morphed form of political consumerism where political men are selling their brand, and people are lapping that up,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp;
“Democracy is a way of life, it is not one size fits all, it doesn’t bully opposing voices, it is civilised, personable, tolerant.”
To be sure, Shah and Lamichhane claim to represent GenZ aspirations for cleaner and more efficient government, much like they did in 2022. But elections are expensive, and that is the root of corruption. Shah driving around Nepal in a flashy Defender SUV loaned by a noodle tycoon is proof to some that despite all the rhetoric of ‘new’ it is the same old crony-driven politics.
Author Mohan Mainali says party cadre used to mobilise voluntarily during campaigns, but Nepal’s elections have long stopped being about issues and ideology,
“But political parties lost their morality, and when their actions opposed their avowed principles, the spirit of elections was lost too,” Mainali says. “Cadre and crowds have to be rented, making elections more expensive, and it looks much worse this time around.”
Parties both old and new have moved so far away from what they promise in their manifestos, that it makes little sense to have them. All this means that this election is not so much about what the new candidates can do, but a protest vote against the tried, tested and failed legacy parties.
And that decision is made on the basis of ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Who wins in Jhapa 5, for example, will determine the future course of Nepal. The winner there will eliminate one prime ministerial candidate, and then set up the possibility of a contest with Gagan Thapa.&nbsp;
“The real question is, can the RSP and NC, which have already declared their prime ministerial candidates muster majorities in Parliament?” Mainali muses. “In all likelihood no. The proportional representation vote is very important so people are tempted to vote based on who will be the next prime minister. But that is not how our system is supposed to work.”&nbsp;
Madhes Province has over 3.6 million voters, and more than half of Nepal’s population is in the Tarai. That can make or break the election for candidates. In the past parties have canvassed in the polls only to ignore the region once in power. And that goes for many Madhesi leaders themselves.
It was only after the 2015 federal republican Constitution that Madhes saw some representation, but it has been mostly sidelined in the GenZ protests.
In his analysis for the Annapurna Post this week, Birganj-based political commentator Chandrakishore writes that the Madhes should not just be a vote bank, but a political conscience for the nation.
‘Federalism has not favoured the Madhes, but it is the duty of the state. The parties that made the Constitution should tell us why federalism was weakened. The RSP should answer why it ignored the provincial structure in the past. The Madhes only wanted identity, representation, rights, and good governance,’ he wrote.
Indeed, it is ironic that the RSP that has been ambiguous on federalism, is now actively campaigning in the capital of federalism with Balendra Shah now capitalising on his plains ancestry — something he has not emphasised in the past.&nbsp;
“On one hand you say you want to remove provinces because there are too many positions which have become extremely costly for the state but you are also assuring your aides that there are plenty of positions to be doled out in the current federal structure,” says Sucheta Pyakuryal.
She adds: “You could forgo the ideology which we have done in Nepali politics for a long time now, you don’t even have to be a diehard socialist or liberal to enter the political arena but when even the lowest benchmarks such as basic decency and honesty are not met, how can you represent the people? We want representatives who look like us, sound like us, think like us, not brand names and saviours.”&nbsp;

New vs New in Nepal

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

Mass migration from Muktikot

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

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