<a href="https://www.ranjanadiga.com/">Ranjan Adiga</a>’s debut short story collection, <a href="https://www.penguin.co.in/book/leech-and-other-stories/">‘Leech and Other Stories’,</a> is a bold and honest exploration of a wide variety of modern experiences of Nepalis home and abroad. A million Nepalis leave the country every year, mostly for work, and about 90,000 to permanently resettle abroad. The ten stories in this slim volume revolve around characters who have migrated and are dealing with issue of identity in their adopted homes.&nbsp; Four of the stories involve Nepalis in the United States navigating success, divorce, cash jobs in Indian restaurants, diversity committee politics, and the Broncos. America is where Adiga himself is based currently, teaching Creative Writing and English at <a href="https://westminsteru.edu/campus-directory/directory-profiles/adiga-ranjan.html">Westminster College in North Salt Lake, Utah</a>. After publishing a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17263">few articles for this newspaper</a> in 2010, and a brief internship at The Kathmandu Post, he spent some well-paying years in advertising in Kathmandu and Bahrain.&nbsp; Fascinated by fiction, he did an MFA in creative writing at <a href="https://uncw.edu/">University of North Carolina Wilmington</a>, before completing a PhD at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. Observing Nepalis struggling with identity and acclimatising to American culture gave the fiction writer in Adiga plenty of plot material to work on.&nbsp; Adigais often mistaken for <a href="http://www.aravindadiga.com/">Aravind Adiga</a>, author of the Booker-prize winning author of the 2008 book, <a href="https://kenyonreview.org/kr-online-issue/2009-winter/selections/review-of-aravind-adigas-the-white-tiger/">The White Tiger</a> that was made into <a href="https://www.netflix.com/np/title/80202877">a Netflix movie</a> starring Priyanka Chopra. “When you introduce yourself in Nepal, it’s never just your first name. If I just say ‘Ranjan,’ the next question is automatically ‘Ranjan ke?” Adiga tells us during a recent visit to Nepali Times. “People are often intrigued, and some harbour preconceptions about who I am.”&nbsp; And if it is not being mistaken for Aravind, it is to be taken for an Indian. But Ranjan’s pedigree is even more exotic: his grandfather was a <a href="https://www.telegraphindia.com/india/kathmandu-ripples-in-karnataka/cid/507815">high priest of Pashupati Temple</a> in Kathmandu, whose predecessors have been traditionally sourced from <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/andhra-pradesh/coastal-karnatakas-bond-with-nepal/article7144615.ece">Udupi of the Karnataka-Kerala border</a> in south India for the past 300 years. Both his parents are Nepali. Like many people who straddle multiple cultures, Adiga does not feel completely accepted in either place. In fact, the uprootedness of being at home everywhere and nowhere helps him in his writing, and that is also reflected in many of the characters in his stories.&nbsp; They too feel alienated in new cultures with various values and different requirements for getting by: whether a Madhesi in Kathmandu, a newly-Christian Dalit woman, or a homocurious uncle. One of the ten stories is titled Leech, and seems to be inspired by the experience of author and former American Peace Corps volunteer Broughton Coburn, whom <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11933">Nepali Times profiled in 2006</a>. Says Adiga: “A lot of my characters feel like parasites in the system, they feel alienated in the places they find themselves, often facing dilemmas between morality and survival.” Indeed, the protagonists in Adiga’s stories are mostly morally ambiguous. They may steal, lie, cheat and drink, but ultimately own up to their mistakes. “Most of my stories tell themselves as I write. It’s a process of discovery, of observing what the characters do and how they interact,” Adiga explains, adding that in only one of the stories did he start with the plot completely outlined beforehand.&nbsp; That story is ‘Student Visa’ about a Nepali youngster named Sanjay on whom his parents have great expectations: he will go to America and eventually bring Mom and Dad, too. Sanjay completely bombs the interview but lies to his parents (and to a neighbour uncle who has a brother in the States, and is naturally an expert) that he got the visa. The author seems interested in how Nepalis deal with relationship norms abroad. Adiga writes about couples in the US where the wife has a ‘better’ job and earns more than the husband, and a visiting father of a divorced son who looks past all of his successes in tech and only talks to him about his failed marriage. This is a story titled ‘A Short Visit’and has a strong plot with real writing. Nirmal is the son who works in tech and has a fancy house and a Tesla. His Baba is an electrical engineer turned alcoholic. Father and son bond over alcohol as a poignant, vulnerable story unfolds. Baba is not supposed to drink at all, and when Nirmal’s sister in Nepal finds out, she berates Nirmal. Brother and sister also have an interesting dynamic. Nirmal is rich and divorced in Denver, while Binita lives in Nepal with a stable joint family and children. The question looms: who has made the bigger sacrifice?As the booze flows, son and father process their different understandings of the divorce, get into arguments, and head to a party where Baba gets on stage and tells the crowd that he loves his son. “That was the story that I had to write quickly, as a replacement for one that fell through,” Adiga explains. “I wrote it in about three weeks, while usually take several months on each one.”&nbsp; Adiga’s stories are observant, uncomfortable and true. Like when he talks about Nirmal texting his ex-wife occasionally and liking each other’s photos on Instagram. Or when he writes: ‘Baba looked like someone’s driver at a wedding in Nepal, cowering in a corner, scrounging on leftovers.’ In ‘A Haircut and a Massage’ a middle-aged man named Krishna is in a sad sexless marriage and teeters on the edge of homosexuality. When his wife sends him out to buy veggies, he starts frequenting Iqbal’s salon for full body massage. Krishna’s marriage had started out well but deteriorated after his wife had their first child. Most of Adiga’s stories feature strong, pragmatic female characters who are in charge, with weaker and often embarrassing male counterparts. Adiga writes bravely about issues that we usually skirt around. ‘High Heels’ looks at a Dalit woman who converts to Christianity and works at a bank, doing better than if she did what her caste identity dictated. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/sermon-on-the-mountain,3911">Prosletysation may have its problems</a>, but the Church treats her as an equal.&nbsp; The story ‘Diversity Committee’ is about the tension between a professor and his white female student after he follows an awkward hug with an iffy text. Soon there is rumour spreading around school that the prof has a staring problem. The student has heavily bought into diversity brainwashing and is a star student, and now does not know what to do that her Professor-Of-Colour has hugged her and stroked her back. Meanwhile an interesting interaction is taking place between the Nepali professor and a Black lesbian professor in the same department. They are good friends in lily-white rural Idaho, but also compete for leadership and inclusion grants from the diversity committee. Adiga admits that one his inspirations is fellow-Nepali writer in America, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/writing-about-nepal-from-afar">Samrat Upadhyay</a> (<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4483">The Guru of Love</a>, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9235">Arresting God in Kathmandu</a>, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Kathmandu-wont-let-go-of-me-samrat-upadhyay,3649">Mad Country</a>) who is also a Kathmandu St Xavierite. The short, clipped sentences, sparse prose and simple plot lines involving Nepalis are indeed vintage Samrat. And like Subcontinental authors who write in English, Adiga also grapples with making the vernacular dialogue sound authentic. The stories are set where the author lives and works, and it is about fictional fellow-Nepalis, so it is natural to wonder how autobiographical they are. Ranjan Adiga leaves us guessing.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024070411070_c4a190ab73e414a17b257fe459d8845b2615b9dbcd3eff06e202fafbe7f902d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2024070411070_c4a190ab73e414a17b257fe459d8845b2615b9dbcd3eff06e202fafbe7f902d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Leech and other stories NT"> </figure>

Vishad Raj Onta

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Feeling at home nowhere and everywhere

Theresa Rebeck’s 1992 script What We’re Up Against has been translated by Priyankar and directed by Akanchha Karki of Katha Ghera as Play द सिस्टम . The play shows a not uncommon experience of female employees in offices in Nepal.Namita is a young talented architect newly hired at a prestigious firm who is exasperated by lazy colleagues who hide their incompetence behind workplace politics.&nbsp; Played with panache by Ranjana Bhattarai, Namita is eager to work on projects, but her boss Sailesh (Eelum Dixit) is a scotch-swigging manipulative control freak who does not assign her anything because he is threatened by her competence.&nbsp; Namita is consigned to a converted storage room, while Pankaj Basyal (Rishikesh Basyal) has a much better location for his desk despite being even newer than Namita. Basyal is a sloppy grifter who makes pompous, long-winded presentations and curries favour with Sailesh by keeping the whiskey flowing.&nbsp; The office is involved in a big project to restore a mall in Lalitpur. Basyal is on the project, as is Biswas (Suraj Malla). Biswas understands what is going on behind the scenes between fellow staffers and is concerned about a piping problem that is delaying the project.&nbsp; The fifth person in the office is Chahana (Roshani Syangbo) who is not much of an architect but keeps her job by playing a ditzy simpering damsel who seconds anything the men say.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240626120620_60a615435151b3721e96bacb1bef4063596bbfc5203dc65a9c4298877f89fca0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240626120620_60a615435151b3721e96bacb1bef4063596bbfc5203dc65a9c4298877f89fca0" data-rendition-name="original" width="5516" height="3677" loading="lazy" alt="Play the system"> </figure>  The deadline for the mall is looming and the only person with the solution is Namita. Sick of being underestimated and overlooked, she brings a design supposedly by Basyal to Sailesh, who initially okays it. But after finding out it was hers, he trashes it.&nbsp; Sailesh is incensed at Namita’s trick, and throws her out before putting Chahana on the project instead. Yet Namita is following Sailesh’s advice: to get work, you must show initiative.&nbsp; So Namita takes up a project Chahana has just about abandoned to modify a court building. Her pitch to the team is imaginative and focused on meeting the client’s demands.&nbsp; Sailesh uses his status and corporate doublespeak to dominate the meeting, and bully Namita. Humiliated, Namita confronts Chahana who sided with Sailesh in the meeting and the two have a row. Brilliantly acted, the scenes are a realistic portrayal of office hierarchy with gender politics also thrown in that gets in the way of getting work done. People want credit but do not want to work for it.&nbsp; The men cannot stand Namita because they all know she is a better architect. They describe her as difficult to work with and whiney. But they are fine with docile, unthreatening Chahana. However, she too is scared of the notion that she might soon have to play sidekick to Namita. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240626120624_a694966f0f4ff4a53c36f81ee7b646078720234812a86a1232e6b95edcec4a86.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240626120624_a694966f0f4ff4a53c36f81ee7b646078720234812a86a1232e6b95edcec4a86" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="Play the system"> <figcaption>Photo: TUPHAN JUNG THAPA</figcaption> </figure>  In a final act of rebellion, Namita ‘plays the system’ of egos to push a flawed design through Chahana to Sailesh, letting Chahana take credit. As Sailesh presents the imperfect plan to the firm’s founder, Biswas has found out what happened and comes to Namita’s office to talk, only to find her packing up, expecting to soon be fired. The two agree to talk about the piping problem over dinner.&nbsp; The play ends abruptly right here, leaving us guessing what happens to Namita. Bristling with swear-words, this is a tense, angry play, but has a light-hearted tone. The message seems to be that women can either be like Chahana, not getting in anyone’s way to keep her job. They will keep her, but have to squander her talent and self respect. Maybe Chahana was once competent too, but is now too jaded and resigned to her fate. Or, they can be like Namita. Confident and competent, and hence perceived as a threat. Many men do not like admitting that another man is better in their profession. But when it comes to women, their ego is hurt and they seek petty ways to get their own back.&nbsp; Sailesh refers to Namita as a “ball-crusher” (the word sounds pithier in Nepali). But if they looked around it would be clear why they are getting left behind: they drink too much, are easily flattered, and have too much time to backbite. They engage in many of the same behaviours that they may jeer at as feminine, such as gossip and hysteria.&nbsp; One scene in particular demonstrates this hypocrisy. Sailesh and Basyal are drinking in Sailesh’s office, a den of toxic masculinity. They make abusive remarks about Namita, but not once in the play do the two actually do any work.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240626120624_3349985b6341a7913c6030f1f8b5c142e39e86420ee429a3eeed2126e54e9ef2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240626120624_3349985b6341a7913c6030f1f8b5c142e39e86420ee429a3eeed2126e54e9ef2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4166" height="2777" loading="lazy" alt="Play the system"> </figure>  Suddenly Namita invades the scene and Basyal cowers pathetically in his chair, not meeting her eye. Namita pours herself some of the whiskey (gasp) and downs it straight before threatening to go to the founder. &nbsp; While Biswas is smart enough to figure out what is going on, he does not &nbsp;have the courage to stand up to Sailesh, or ask Namita for the solution, or “do the right thing”.&nbsp; Rebeck’s script came out in 1992, and 32 years later it still transcends time and space, and is a relatable and realistic depiction of the workplace anywhere. This a universal, perennial issue, and the play can also be taken as a call to maturity in gender relations. &nbsp; The play runs smooth as it uses one big set throughout, lighting up where the action takes place. In the centre is the presentation table and to the left and right are Chahana and Namita’s offices. Overlooking everything up a staircase is Sailesh’s office. The original script is in English, and it adapts well to a sort of Nepali-English hybrid dialogue that would feel natural to the Nepali Times readership. Rebeck curses quite liberally in the original English script, but the adaptation is a bit too generously sprinkled with colloquial Nepali swear words. It certainly has shock value and brings laughs.&nbsp; Kausi Theater, Lagan Every day except Tuesday till 15 July Time: &nbsp;5:15PM, &nbsp;Matinee show on Saturdays at 1PM Front row: Rs1,000&nbsp; General tickets: Rs500 Contact: 9861078876

Hate the game, not the player

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Nepal, here comes the sun

Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday, protesting what they have called the interim government’s inadequate efforts to address the demands of the GenZ movements. The demonstrators also sought to bar the UML from gathering at Maitighar, where party chair K P Oli was expected to announce its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. The organisers consequently relocated the event. Friday’s demonstration at Maitighar comes as UML and GenZ representatives agreed to sit down for talks in Simara, where a curfew was imposed this week after youth protestors and party cadres clashed near the airport as demonstrators sought to stop UML leaders from flying in for a political event to Simara from Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> <figcaption>Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday. Photos: SUBASH SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1439" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> </figure>  &nbsp;Nepal’s interim government is increasingly cautious about the nation’s sensitive security situation in the lead-up to the 5 March election, as evidenced by pro-monarchy businessman Durga Prasai’s midnight arrest earlier this week over his inflammatory remarks as he called for protests this month. On Thursday, the Supreme Court ordered the government to present Prasai before the court within 24 hours.&nbsp; As it stands, the UML’s inauguration of a youth collective amidst its disregard for the demands of Nepalis for party reforms and a change in leadership highlights party chair and former PM K P Oli’s continued lack of remorse for the excesses of 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1707" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force NT"> <figcaption>The UML launched its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1706" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force"> </figure>  Families of those killed and injured on 8 September have demanded that the ousted PM and home minister be held accountable for state brutality.&nbsp; This week, Human Rights Watch published a <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/11/19/nepal-unlawful-use-of-force-during-gen-z-protest" target="_blank">comprehensive report</a> concluding that security forces fired indiscriminately on youth-led protestors on 8 September.&nbsp; The human rights watchdog urged the Sushila Karki-led interim government to investigate the excessive use of force as well as arson, vandalism and mob attacks on individuals on 9 September. The government has created a judicial commission to inquire into the deaths of 76 people over two days of protests.&nbsp; “The recent violence in Nepal included serious human rights violations, and those responsible should be held accountable, whether they are security forces or political actors,” said Meenakshi Ganguly, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch.&nbsp; She added: “The government should ensure that the investigations are independent, time-bound, and transparent, and that no one found responsible for breaking the law is unfairly protected from proper prosecution.” HRW’s investigation was based on testimony from 52 witnesses, victims, journalists, healthcare workers, politicians, and sources close to security forces. Researchers also verified photos and video footage shared on social media and with researchers; and visited the scenes of protests, properties subjected to arson and vandalism, and hospitals.&nbsp; A police officer said that officers opened fire with lethal force five minutes after the District Administration Office declared an emergency curfew around Parliament. Witness accounts and analysed footage did not show grave and imminent danger to life that would justify the intentional use of lethal force, stated the human rights watchdog in the report.&nbsp; The protestors and witnesses identified security forces who fired live ammunition at the protestors by their uniforms as members of the Armed Police Force (APF) and Nepal Police’s Special Task Force (STF). &nbsp; “They literally aimed at us and started shooting,” said one witness who sheltered behind a barricade as police continued shooting.&nbsp; A retired senior police official said police had failed to follow procedures for dispersing protests and using lethal force.&nbsp; Pathologists at a Kathmandu morgue told HRW that they determined 35 cases of death caused by “high velocity gunshot wounds” to the head, neck, chest, or abdomen.&nbsp; The witness recounted being taken into custody along with 33 other protestors by STF officers in riot gear, and said that police police personnel beat him with batons. Detainees were threatened and their IDs destroyed. Several witnesses said that the mob attacks on businesses, politicians, media companies, and educational institutions were very targeted, noting the absence of security personnel on 9 September as arson and violence raged across the capital.&nbsp; Some suggested that the violence may have been instigated by infiltrators associated with various political movements.&nbsp; On Discord, the platform where a significant number of demonstrators organised, participants noted that while there were calls for peaceful movement in the days leading up to the protest, some on the platform advocated for violence.&nbsp; Human Rights Watch has said that any credible allegations of criminal acts contributing to the violence must be investigated.&nbsp; Said Ganguly: “The authorities should recognise that widespread impunity for human rights violations in the past helped enable the violence that occurred this time in Nepal. It is crucial to reverse the decades-long tendency by successive governments in Nepal to bury investigations and stall prosecutions, and to bring about accountability and security sector reform.”

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

As people move out of Nepal’s trans-Himalayan districts, their faiths migrate with them to the cities and all over the world. The ancient animist faith of Bon Po predates the advent of Buddhism in Tibet, and its last remaining priests and devotees are found in villages like Lubra in Mustang and Samling in Dolpo. But as those villages empty out, Bon centres can now be found as far afield as Kathmandu, New York and Tokyo. The first Triten Norbutse Monastery was founded in Tibet in the 14th century by the Bon Master Shen Nyima Gyaltsen. Its monastery in Nepal is below the forested hills of Ichangu on the western outskirts of Kathmandu.&nbsp; Many are surprised to hear that there is a Bon centre in Kathmandu, and that it is located so close to Swayambhu. This Triten monastery was established by Yongzin Tenzin Namdak Rinpoche only 40 years ago to cater to adherents of the faith who lived in the capital. True to its reverence for nature, the shrine is verdant, with plants and flowers amidst a contrasting backdrop of Kathmandu’s ugly urban sprawl below. The monastery practices Bon culture and passes on teachings to students as well, who after completing 15 years of study graduate to become ‘Gese’.&nbsp; It is believed that Bon Po was brought to Nepal from Tibet by Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. Over the centuries, Bon and Buddhism have become syncretic in Dolpo and Mustang, despite the differences in their belief systems. Followers worship nature and consider the human body, speech and mind as jewels. The human body is said to be composed of five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and the cosmos.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  The Bon faith was much more widespread during the reigns of Nyathi Chenpo, the first king of Tibet to Namri Srongchen, the 32nd king. But it was after King Srongchen Gompo that Buddhism started making inroads on the plateau, and spread also in the Himalayan rimlands. There are also Bon followers in Humla, Jumla, Baglung, Mugu, Kaski and Chitwan, as well as in the United States and 50 other countries, indicating the movement of people within Nepal and outside.&nbsp; The Bon religion believes in reincarnation and that everything, including positive and negative thoughts are a result of past life karma. Buddhism focuses more on attaining Nirvana, a state of no suffering, where the subject is released from all his/her karmas. Bon has also inducted some Tantric practices and rituals, some of which are in parts similar, yet still different from Buddhism.&nbsp; “In Buddhist culture, circumambulation of shrines is clockwise, but in Bon culture, circumambulation is in an anticlockwise direction,” explains Chhiring Lama of Triten Norbutse Monastery. “The main Bon mantra is Om Ma Tri Mu Ye Sa Le Du, while followers of Buddhism chant Om Mani Padme Hum. Buddhism emphasises enlightenment by meditation and moral behaviour, while Bon beliefs centre on nature and ancestor worship, and placating the spirits. In religious texts, it is mentioned that there were 1,008 Buddhas throughout time. Tonpa Shenrab is believed to be the 8th Buddha, and Bon practitioners are guided by his teachings contained in 140 sacred writings known as Kangyur and 300 more scriptures known as Katen.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  “We worship nature and its elements and the prayer flags contain religious texts and when the wind blows through it we consider it a prayer,” says Chhiring Lama. “We also worship ponds for the water and consider fire as a sacred element as well. We also consider snakes sacred, therefore worship ponds, considering them as the place of residence.” The interdependence between human beings and nature is clearly depicted through such traditions and practices which carry relevance today as the planet faces the crisis of climate breakdown.&nbsp; Important gods worshiped include Satrig Ersang, Shenlha Okar, Sangpo Bumtri, and Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. But what is similar to Buddhism is an offering known as ‘torma’, a cone shaped ritual offering made from flour dough. Many Bon faithful are vegetarian, or abstain from meat during festivals.&nbsp; Over time, the rise of Buddhism in Tibet and beyond overshadowed Bon, pushing many of its practices to the margins. Yet, the tradition continues to live on, carried by those who see in it a deep connection to nature, the spirit world, and the roots of Tibetan culture.&nbsp; In many ways, the endurance of Bon is a reminder that even the quietest faiths hold timeless truths, waiting to be remembered and valued. Followers of Bon today are far fewer, and the knowledge about its traditions is not as widespread.&nbsp; “As time goes on, people adopt rituals and cultures that are more convenient to their daily lives,” says Chhiring Lama. “But that means forgetting or leaving behind one’s indigenous and ancestral roots.”

The Bon Po way of life

&nbsp;Nepal has finally become famous the world over for something else besides Mt Everest — the GenZ Movement. The 8 September protests in Kathmandu may have been triggered by what happened in Jakarta a week previously, but it inspired street uprisings all over the world. This week, Mexico’s GenZ are clashing with riot police. Last month, the president of Madagascar fled to Dubai. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos" target="_blank">Philippines</a>, Morocco, Peru, Timor Leste all have seen similar anti-government protests against corruption, nepotism and poor governance. A Himalayan republic, a Latin American federation, a Southeast Asian archipelago, or a North African kingdom may have little in common, their histories, religions, languages, and political systems are worlds apart. But <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/19/world/gen-z-revolutions-protests-louvre-heist-gaza.html" target="_blank">the common thread</a> running through these demonstrations were the simulacra and symbols spread on social media platforms.&nbsp; The young crowds marching through the streets of these countries were holding up the same icons. They painted the same images on cardboard, waved the same flags, stitched the same badges on their backpacks. They chanted &nbsp;the same references from the same corners of the internet.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1047" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption> One Piece reference meme on Instagram, 115K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  To anyone who did not grow up online, this looks random. To anyone who did, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. A new kind of global identity has formed — one that cuts across nationalities and cultures. In Nepal older relatives mock the ‘जेन्जी’. My neighbour asked me if ‘GenZ’ was a new political party.&nbsp; Around the world, when youth-led protests appear, reporters and politicians ask the same question: ‘Who is the leader?’ The answer is the same: there is no leader.&nbsp; Some names come up more prominently, as people did during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus?fbclid=IwY2xjawNPQnZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHk5Nazeqz3K9aNddXa-dQfCbwtId0nLclQwHzIYhTfg8tzGWXZMBJ5pjm5Qx_aem_a5JoyT1FRqzCVtnnPM7zUw" target="_blank">the Nepali protests</a>: Sudan Gurung. Miraj Dhungana, Rakshya Bam and other organisers who appeared in livestreams and interviews. But look closely and the leader is hiding in plain sight. The leader is not a person. The leader is the internet meme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="662" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Aurafarming, 233K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution" target="_blank">Memes today</a> are doing the quiet organising work that pamphlets and party cells once did. They offer identity, coordinate action, level power differences, and they do it without any central command. This is not because memes cause revolts. It is because memes are the connective tissue of a generation that grew up on the same visual language, the same jokes, the same references, and the same sense of shared digital childhood. Older generations did not share cultural symbols in the same way. Whether they read a certain comic book or watched the same cartoon depended on class, religion, caste, the country, or neighbourhood they grew up in. These divisions created stratified cultural memories.&nbsp; Today, an entire global cohort has been raised on the same visual media. The same YouTube creators. The same TikTok jokes. The same anime storylines. It is truly what McLuhan predicted the Global Village would be.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b" data-rendition-name="original" width="738" height="1012" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Masked K P Oli, 63K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  This has also created the perfect environment for <a href="https://observer.co.uk/news/international/article/revolution-20-frances-political-future-could-be-won-or-lost-by-bots-and-memes" target="_blank">memes to become political tools</a>. They are instantly recognisable, emotionally charged, and open for remixing. They allow young people to signal their values without stating them. They compress identity, anger, humour, and belonging into something that the rest of the world dismisses as unserious. The perfect example of a GenZ meme is the famous skull and crossbones in protest flags from Kathmandu to Manila to Mexico City. The Strawhat Pirates from the <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20251006-one-piece-manga-revolt-morocco-indonesia-nepal-madagascar" target="_blank">anime One Piece</a>, is a show with over 1,000 episodes and a global fanbase that spans continents. One Piece follows Luffy, a justice driven pirate who travels across a world ruled by corrupt older elites who hoard power and suppress dissent.&nbsp; It is not hard to see why that story resonates with young people who feel locked out of political systems built by generations before them. I even printed stacks of my own flyer that explained memetic warfare using Minecraft visuals and handed them out in the crowd. Each one linked to a Telegram group with the Strawhat Pirates logo called MemePack HQ.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meme Movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d" data-rendition-name="original" width="696" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Indonesia-Nepal comparison, 17.7K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  CULTURE EXPOSURE The Strawhat logo is not the only symbol making people protest. That would be like saying video games cause real world violence. Instead, the logo works like a modern version of mythology. It packs meaning for those who understand it. It represents loyalty, rebellion, chosen family, and resistance against unfair structures. It works as a rallying flag because it is already a shared story. And unlike older myths, it is accessible regardless of religion, caste, language, or national identity. Across Nepal, the Strawhat symbol has shown up on posters, badges, and protest outfits. But it is only one piece of a larger ecosystem of youth symbols. From Nepali meme pages remixing political speeches into ironic audios, to posts that place politicians into familiar pop culture formats, to clips that exaggerate the absurdity of daily life under slow moving governance, these are not just jokes. These are narrative units. Each post is a tiny story with its own punchline and its own political edge. Each TikTok video or meme functions like a religious shlok, a short piece of narrative that carries layers of meaning depending on who consumes it. Someone who has spent years studying a religion, in this case, inside GenZ online culture will recognise the symbols instantly. Someone outside this world will only see noise. This creates a literacy divide that is not about formal education but cultural exposure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e" data-rendition-name="original" width="568" height="1124" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  Protesting youth spent countless hours scrolling, interpreting, remixing, and responding to content. They built a shared symbolic universe across borders without planning to. This is why their political movements feel leaderless. They are not following individuals. They are following stories that define what justice looks like. Stories that define who the villain is. Stories that define how to respond when power is abused. In Nepal, memes about broken roads, delayed passports, political inheritance networks, and bureaucratic absurdity circulated for months before they became slogans or chants. By the time people took to the streets, the narrative groundwork had already been completed by thousands of posts liked and shared in private. The protests did not emerge from nowhere. They emerge from years of digital storytelling. Which is why the government’s ban on 26 digital platforms on 5 September became such a rallying force. The platforms that distribute these memes are not neutral, they are actually designed to maximise engagement because engagement translates to ad revenue. Right now, there is an engineer in Silicon Valley getting paid an enormous salary to find the perfect colour shade for a singular pixel on your screen so that you linger for fractions of a second longer.&nbsp; Algorithms reward content that trigger emotion. Sometimes the emotion is delight. Sometimes it is envy. Often it is anger. When rage becomes a business model, movements built inside these systems can feel powerful but unstable. The platforms democratise attention but centralise emotion. They allow anyone to broadcast, yet they shape the emotional tone of what becomes viral.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c" data-rendition-name="original" width="974" height="1156" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  GenZ sits inside this tension. Empowered by the ability to speak without gatekeepers. Trapped inside systems that monetise their attention and amplify their frustration. This is why these leaderless online movements feel both organic and volatile. The algorithm filters which stories rise and which fade. It becomes an unintentional political actor. Not elected. Not accountable. Yet influencing millions. When the state is no longer the primary distributor of information, and when the algorithm becomes the new filter of reality, the public is left with a new responsibility. We have to learn to read memes the way past generations learned to read pamphlets or manifestos. A 15 second video can carry more political weight than a two hour speech. A symbol on cardboard might represent a decade of digital storytelling. Older generations often dismiss these images as childish. They are actually literacy markers of a new political class, one that does not wait for leaders. A political class fluent in remixing power, raised on global stories that feel more honest than the institutions they inherited. The youth did not create these platforms. They inherited them. But through memes they found a new language, one that lets them organise without permission. One that lets them build solidarity without needing meetings or manifestos. One that allows them to resist systems that feel too old to reform. It is time to take that seriously. Nobel Rimal is a researcher of digital culture and political communication who studied and participated in the meme driven mobilisations during the Nepal protests&nbsp;

nepali-times-review

Feeling at home nowhere and everywhere

Hate the game, not the player

Nepal, here comes the sun

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

The Bon Po way of life

Meme movements