<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdd89c7e80680e0a0c08jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Scars of injuries sustained by Shyam in his scalp when his Nepali employer in a restaurant in Luxembourg allegedly beat him with a tandoor skewer, ladles and other objects.</figcaption></figure>The Nepali restaurant is located in the richest country of the European Union, and its Facebook page is full of recommendations from guests lavishing effusive praise on its cuisine and service. The page also contains a post from its owner saying that the restaurant's chefs and staff prepare all meals with great care so that guests leave with satisfaction and good memories. What the Facebook page does not say is that the chef and staff had been made to work more than 18 hours a day as virtual slaves with their bank accounts, and in some cases passports, in the hands of an abusive owner. Luxembourg is Europe’s smallest country, and has the world’s highest GDP per capita. It is one of the founding members of the European Union, is one of its four capitals, and is also the seat of the Court of Justice of the European Union. Some of the restaurant’s regular customers could have been rich Europeans and those who worked on human rights. However, they were oblivious to the mistreatment and abuse of the restaurant’s Nepali staff by its Nepali owner. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/two-decades-of-debate-on-female-migration/">Two decades of debate on female migration</a>, Upasana Khadka “I arrived in Luxembourg in October 2015 with a work permit sent to me by the owner of the restaurant,” says Shyam from Baglung, who paid for his own air ticket. “I wanted to live a decent life and save enough to provide for my family. But what a disappointment it has been.” In a series of phone calls from Luxembourg, Shyam spoke of chronic beatings, abuse, withholding of salary, and substandard living conditions. Unable to bear it any longer he and some other co-workers lodged a complaint with the Luxembourg police in July.  The case will now be further investigated by the Police Judiciaire, and based on its verdict the prosecutor's office will decide whether there is enough evidence of human trafficking to file charges. After several attempts to contact the restaurant owner, he finally responded via an email from his lawyer denying all accusations. He says he had neither mentally nor physically abused his staff, or forced them to work for free for 16 months or work extra hours.  ‘All the claims made by my ex-employees are false. They might have received a better offer from competing business and hence they fled from the restaurant housing overnight leaving a resignation letter in my mailbox,’ he states in the email. ‘This is nothing but a stunt to defame my image and damage the reputation of my very well-established business.’  Luxembourg law does not permit naming of the restaurant and the owner, unless convicted, but Shyam’s story has been corroborated by two of his colleagues as well with depositions he made with the local Nepali community and the police.   When he arrived Shyam was given space above the restaurant to share with two other co-workers. The toilets were rudimentary, and they were allowed to take a bath only once a week and that too, very grudgingly.  The restaurant’s cook, Binod, left soon after Shyam arrived because he could not tolerate the injustice of the owner, who happened to be his relative. Nepali Times tracked down Binod in Chitwan this week, and he confirmed that the owner was physically abusive and exploited his employees from Nepal. Binod is an experienced chef, having worked for 12 years in India and seven years in Qatar before spending €3,000 of his own savings to go to Luxembourg to work for his relative, who sent him a work permit.   <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/caught-in-the-middle/migration-agency-exploitation,4003">Caught in the middle by middlemen</a>, Upasana Khadka He also agreed to work for 12 months without pay in lieu of his work permit. He was hired as a chef, but was asked to also do all the shopping, carrying heavy goods into the store, cleaning and other chores. He had been promised a four-hour working day, but ended up doing 18-hours a day.  Binod’s passport was taken away from him, and his phone calls were monitored. After he found the abuse intolerable, Binod asked his relative for his passport and money, but he lost his temper and beat him with anything he could lay his hands on. His employer opened a bank account in Binod’s name and would deposit about €2,000 every month. But the restaurant owner kept all the passwords himself and Binod could not have access to his account. The owner then withdrew most of the salary he had deposited, and gave only €500 to him. At first, Binod says he did not complain because he thought that was the way things were done in Luxembourg. Binod’s unwritten agreement with his relative was that he would work for free for one year to repay him for the work permit. But he ended up working at the restaurant for no salary, no leave and no weekends for most of the 3.5 years. “When I did not do as asked, he hit me with a metal tandoor skewer or a ladle,” Binod recalls. “There were many nights when I could not sleep because of the pain from the beatings, and the pillow would be soaked with blood from wounds in my ears.”  Binod would plead with the employer to take him to hospital to get stitches, but was not allowed. After nearly four years of this, Binod’s father died and he asked his employer for leave. When the owner refused, Binod got relatives back home to buy a one-way ticket back to Nepal and never went back to Luxembourg.  Both Binod and Shyam thought the prospect of a job in Europe would change their lives, and trusted a fellow-Nepali employer. But while Binod returned to Nepal because he could not bear the mistreatment, and did not want to turn against his relative, Shyam lodged the complaint with the authorities.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-and-malaysia-rewrite-rules-for-migrant-labour/">Nepal and Malaysia rewrite rules for migrant labour</a>, Kunda Dixit Binod and Shyam talked to us separately, and one did not know the other was in touch with Nepali Times. But the pattern of abuse and the method of exploitation they described unprompted were identical in both cases.  In July, three of the Nepali workers complained to the Non-resident Nepalese Association (NRN) Luxembourg, and a section of the interaction was recorded by someone there. Shyam also said he had to work 16 hours a day without holidays, not allowed breaks or to meet with other Nepalis “I was imprisoned for seven years,” he said in the audio clip. Like Binod, Shyam’s verbal deal with the employer was that he would work without pay for the first 16 months to compensate him for arranging the work permit. But because that is not allowed under Luxembourg law, the employer would deposit €1,600 every month in his account, and he would withdraw the amount every month and hand it to the owner. He was sometimes allowed to keep €150 for himself as an allowance. For the first six months he was treated well by his employers, and he did not complain about the bad accommodation and poor food as the other employees were in the same predicament. But after that he started facing physical violence – being hit by skewers and boxed in the ears, like Binod. After 16 months, the owner made him sign an official contract as required by law. But even after that, he kept most of Shyam’s salary himself. In addition, the owner only gave the workers left-overs, vegetables and a thin gruel to eat.  “Sometimes we used scrap bones to make soup, and he would beat us up calling us thieves,” Shyam said on the phone. “At other times he would summon us in the middle of the night to massage his legs.”  Shyam says he tolerated the beatings and abuse because he did not want to lose face back home, and wanted to protect his mother from social stigma. He sold his land in Nepal, and brought his wife and two children over to Europe as well, and for this he needed his employer’s help. When he visited Nepal for the first time since leaving for Luxembourg, family members asked him about the scars on his face. He told them it was work related. Finally, unable to bear the abuse any longer, Shyam and three other staff – one of them another relative of the owner – decided to tell their story to the NRN. In the audio recording of their deposition, the relative of the owner is heard saying that although he and his wife were also mistreated, he could not come out openly to lodge a complaint because of his family ties to him.  Another staff member is overheard in the clip saying he was forbidden even to drink water or take a toilet break while in the kitchen. Shyam explained that after meeting the Nepali community, the three of them got the courage to file a complaint with the Commissariat Luxembourg on 25 July 2021. The NRN Chair in Luxembourg Hari Khatri and his family own a restaurant and grocery. He was shocked by the revelations of the four Nepali restaurant workers.  <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/women-migrant-workers-are-doubly-vulnerable">Women workers are doubly vulnerable</a>, Rojita Adhikari “In my 23 years living here, this has never happened before in the Luxembourg Nepali community. We all lived together as one family,” Khatri said on the phone. “The case is now with the police, they will investigate and we will soon know the facts. I will try to help the staff as much as I can.” There are about 450 Nepali residents in Luxembourg and some 120 households. Many of them have come as cooks to work in Nepali restaurants, and earn enough in about six months to bring their families over. Luxembourg law allows restaurant owners to import cooks if a citizen who qualifies for the job cannot be found.  That is how Khatri himself brought his brother over in 2006, who is now well settled with his family in his own house. “But I had never heard of any Nepali not paying 16 months salary to a fellow Nepali,” he added. Like other countries in Europe, Nepalis also try to come to Luxembourg on student visas by paying agents in Kathmandu up to Rs1.6 million. He warned Nepali youngsters not to get duped, since the cost of living is very high, and it is difficult to pay living costs and school fees by working. With the pandemic, there are also fewer jobs in the service industry. Most are now working on home delivery and take away.   After the interaction with the NRN, the restaurant owner’s mother and father pleaded with Shyam and his colleagues not to press charges against their son. In an audio recording of a telephone conversation that Nepali Times was provided, they can be heard apologising to Shyam about the way their son treated him.  Shyam then asks them why they did not speak up even though they knew that their son was abusing employees. The restaurant has remained closed since the four employees left and filed the complaint. Many Nepalis in Europe have said in interviews that they are not surprised by this story from Luxembourg. The practice of friends and relatives misusing the work permit in restaurants to engage in human trafficking is said to be rife.  But such is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepalis-lost-jobs-in-past-month/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">desperation of young Nepalis for jobs</a> that they are willing to risk all for a decent income to support families back home. Many of them tolerate the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guard-beaten-in-malaysia-goes-viral/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">abuse and exploitation</a>, and are also not aware of their rights in European countries.  Service Info Traite, which supports victims of human trafficking in Luxembourg says that the investigation and judicial process could take up to three years. It says the restaurant owner using a bank account to get around labour laws to exploit his employees is not new.  Says Frank Wies, who is a lawyer with Luxembourg’s Human Rights Commission: “The police, the courts and the prosecution often lack the necessary sensitivity to recognise and treat human trafficking. I have often seen cases where victims are given a settlement and deported back to their countries.” That is not likely to happen with Shyam and his two colleagues who have work permits. But they have gone to the police in one of the world’s richest countries in the hope that justice will be served, and maybe set an example to other Nepali employers in Europe.   Some names have been changed. Luc Caregari of Reporter in Luxembourg collaborated in this investigation. This report is published simultaneously in English in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHtSVNSRWqbuFfj0xvYbhurabXE-A">Nepali Times</a>, in German in <a href="http://reporter.lu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://reporter.lu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHmoJ1q5lxrWAGKSIqhvoLQ1ds7Yw">reporter.lu</a> and in Nepali by <a href="http://onlinekhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://onlinekhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExFo0zvEqQtb7MfZDSAfMpQv1MvQ">onlinekhabar.com</a>._________________  <h2>Dark shadow of the European dream</h2> During my reporting trip to Europe in 2019, I visited many Nepali restaurants, interviewed their Nepali owners, and met with employees. I also met government officials and visited police departments. In Luxembourg, it was not easy to get information. After the initial chit chat restaurant workers suddenly went quiet when asked about their working conditions and seemed intimidated. Owners liked to highlight how they were helping fellow Nepalis attain their European dream. I soon found out that the reason was that many of them are victims of physical and mental torture, not aware of their labour rights in Europe because of lack of education or being unable to speak the local language. They trusted the employer who was often a relative or friend from back home.  It was in Luxembourg, the country where the Court of Justice of the European Union is situated, that migrant workers were facing some of the worst violations of their human rights at the hands of fellow Nepalis. Outwardly, the restaurants looked spic and span, the guests were all well-groomed, and seemed to be from the higher echelons of society. The Nepalis all said they were happy. But behind this veneer, I had a nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true.  Sure enough, after some digging, I found a similar story to what I had uncovered in Helsinki earlier. Together with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195528000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE_Bi1ton1z4xOyqLRgwTTz1UfqsQ">Helsingin Sanomat</a>, we at Nepali Times had covered the story on human trafficking of Nepali workers by a Nepali restaurant owner in 2019, after which the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-restaurateurs-fined-in-finland/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEsSkybqU-hj0KgZBpma0xalqzAAg">Finnish government took action</a> on the perpetrator.  Like in Finland, some migrants who had entered Luxembourg legally were being abused and denied basic human rights, including the right to decent working hours and salary as per the labour laws of the country, right to safe housing and good food and the right to live with dignity.  The stories of Binod, Shyam, and their colleagues prove that there are Nepalis who themselves rose up the ranks to be restaurant owners who are now preying on vulnerable and desperate people from the home country.  There is no other label for this but human trafficking — anyone who is made to work in a different place than their home country without a fair salary, housing, food and health services are victims of human trafficking, even if they are not subject to physical, verbal, mental and sexual violence.  Shyam and Binod’s Nepali employer has all the legal paperwork for their contract and bank accounts. Still, they were exploited. It is now up to the authorities there to find out how such violations  could occur in a country which has such strict safeguards. <img width="97" height="103" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfddb9c7e80680e0a0c09jpeg.jpg" alt="">Namrata Sharma is former chair of the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal. This article has been developed with the support of the <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.money-trail.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.money-trail.org&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHi58yJp7lYGXJm-u7RxXB37cRrBw">Money Trail Project</a>, <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="https://www.journalismfund.eu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.journalismfund.eu&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFgo-S83vRTW2_zljHaM5pvCj-uzg">Journalism Fund EU</a>, and <a style="font-family: georgia, serif;" href="http://www.financeuncovered.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.financeuncovered.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1629986195529000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5Rn24XIEKJ2NEdArVvblHbVcR1A">Finance Uncovered</a>.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/">In the minds of Nepal’s migrant workers</a>, Upasana Khadka<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/south-asias-migrants-shared-problems-share-solutions/">South Asia’s migrants share problems, share solutions</a>, Upasana Khadka

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Nepalis abused by Nepalis in Luxembourg

<figure></figure>										<img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171144/636bd9459c7e80680e080204jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bodies of the 13 Nepali security guards after they were flown home in 2016 who were killed during a Taliban attack on the Canadian Embassy in Kabul. Photo: BIKRAM RAI</figcaption>												Families of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/06/23/lives-of-our-brothers/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/06/23/lives-of-our-brothers/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFN7I5wvC7gnbdfZyt5m3-uYxaQVA">13 Nepali security guards</a> killed in a Taliban attack on the Canadian Embassy in Kabul in 2016 and the Canadian government which <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guards-sue-canada-government/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-guards-sue-canada-government/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH6kEYoleH4UbvpmvfHfm_7jjcGdg">they had sued</a>, have come to a court settlement on compensation.  The case was filed in 2018 at the Ontario Superior Court of Justice in Toronto by five Nepali soldiers wounded in the attack and 13 widows of those killed for $20.4 million in compensation.They alleged that Sabre International, the security company that had been hired by the Canadian government to guard the embassy, had provided an <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/nepali-guards-kabul-bombing,748" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/nepali-guards-kabul-bombing,748&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGvNP__8VoLQFFywVBL8AjGAQ4oIg">unacceptably low compensation</a> to some of the families before closing the shop.After the attack, Sabre International terminated its contract with the Canadian embassy, and shut down all its contact offices in Afghanistan and in Nepal. Sabre is no longer operating, and a legal notice is yet to be served to it.The lawsuit was filed on the eve of the second anniversary of the Kabul attack. On 20 June 2016, 13 Nepali guards were killed and five injured when they were travelling to the Canadian embassy on an unarmored bus. A lone suicide bomber blew the bus.The Vancouver-based Canadian lawyer for the plaintiffs, Joe Fiorente confirmed to Canadian Broadcasting that a settlement had been reached, but he refused to provide further details because of possible implications for the families in Nepal.     "I can tell you the families were satisfied with the settlement and that they are confident the Government of Canada <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/07/08/10405/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/07/08/10405/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGSvAqPLPbFO4emkfgBmi5lRXSpIw">has recognised the sacrifice</a> and service of those gentlemen who were protecting our embassy in Kabul at the time of the bombing," Fiorante told CBC News.The families had first filed a case against Ottawa and Sabre International, and were promised $300,000 which never materialised.The slain Nepali guards lived in dorms away from the embassy, and used to make a risky journey by bus to their duty station every day following the same route. The plaintiffs have asked the Canada government what measures it had taken to protect the Nepalis guarding its people and property in Kabul.There are still about 9,000 Nepali security guards employed in Afghanistan according to official records, but the number is said to be much higher. The deaths of the Nepalis also exposed how <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/06/21/nepal-mp-slams-canada/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/06/21/nepal-mp-slams-canada/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFG6mo_owRrLe6KzzO-LV4ycZk1jw">desperate Nepalis</a> sought employment in some of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/canada-and-nepal-want-to-up-trade-tourism-and-investment/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/canada-and-nepal-want-to-up-trade-tourism-and-investment/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1601896207881000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFruYiC0kjAkXUPo6z8lrunZqCpYg">riskiest war zones in the world</a>, and were not sufficiently protected with insurance and compensation.

Canada settlement with families of Nepali guards

More than 43,000 overseas migrant workers have returned to Nepal during the Coronavirus pandemic out of 125,000 who registered to be ‘rescued,’ according to Nepal’s Labour Ministry. The pace of the repatriation exercise has been painfully slow, and many workers who have lost their jobs or cannot bear to be so far away, are desperately trying to return home.Many stranded workers have spent any savings that they had, and are barely surviving with support from friends, co-workers or other Nepalis, including from the Non-resident Nepali Association (NRNA). Others still do not know how they will manage to buy a ticket if they ever get on a flight list. Here are some of their stories as part of the Nepal Photo Project.<h2>KUWAIT</h2>Etubar Kisku went to Kuwait in 2017, encouraged by a friend from his village who was already working there. “I actually got lured into it — he painted such a rosy picture. I got excited about the idea of working at a hotel in a foreign land with a good salary. He told me that I would get 100 dinars (Rs39,000) per month. I have two daughters and a wife to look after, so I agreed.”“When I came here things were different, I wanted to return home,” says Kisku, 36, from Bhagudubba of Jhapa district. His job was not at a hotel as promised, but in a restaurant. He was paid about Rs36,000 and was sending home Rs20,000 from it every month. But the restaurant closed, and Kisku has been without work for four months. “Thankfully the company has provided accommodation and we don’t have to pay rent,” he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb5229c7e80680e07bbe6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="655"/>When the pandemic started, Kisku and some of his Nepali flatmates stocked their pantry with essential items like rice, oil, salt and potatoes. He has been able to find some construction work through Indian and Bangladeshi migrant worker friends, but it is back-breaking. “The work is not regular, and for 12 hours I only make about Rs2,000,” Kisku says. “Still, it is better than having no work — it at least helps me to survive.”He has been waiting to return home for many months, but the flight costs more than he can afford. “The ticket home is Rs85,000 one way, I don’t have that kind of money,” he says adding, “At this rate, I wonder if I will be able to go home.”Kisku’s company still has his passport despite efforts to get it back. “I keep calling them, but they always say one thing or the other and hang up.”Kisku has built a community of Nepalis who he calls his ‘solti’ and ‘soltini’. Every morning after waking up he calls his soltini who works at the airport to check ticket prices. “I am not educated, I do not know the ways of the world, so I ask them, and I trust that they will help me in my time of need,” he says.-          Bunu Dhungana<h2>SAUDI ARABIA</h2>Raju Murmu — When we talked to Raju Murmu in late August, he was crammed into a room in Saudi Arabia’s capital Jeddah with 14 other Nepalis. They had pooled their money and bought an internet package to ensure that they could tell their story to the world, but the data pack was running out, and they could not afford to buy another one.Of the workers Murmu, 31, from Jhapa was the only one who knew how to use the internet. “Where are the concerned authorities? We want them to see the condition we are living in now, we want them to rescue us,” said Murmu then, via video call.Murmu had been stuck in Jeddah since December. After he lost his job as a cleaner at the airport, he tried to find another one in the city, but he was not allowed to work. When the Nepal Government announced that international commercial flights would resume in August, he asked his family in Nepal to send him Rs50,000 and paid Rs84,000 for a ticket home. He also paid Rs7000 for a PCR test.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb5249c7e80680e07bbe7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="636"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb5269c7e80680e07bbe8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Finally on 6 September, Murmu landed in Kathmandu and quarantined in a hotel in Bag Bazar, where last Thursday he did a PCR test. He tested negative and has been with his family in Jorpati since then.Murmu made the journey home with a heavy heart: “How can I be happy when the people I spent four years with are stuck, and have no hope of coming back? I can only be at peace when I know all my friends in Jeddah are home safe.”-          Nitu GhaleNarendra Sarwariya, Mahendra Hemran, Narendra Prasad Chaudhary, Ramnepal ThakurAmong those who shared a room with Raju Murmu are Narendra Sarwariya, 30, and Mahendra Hemran, 26, from Mahottari and Morang districts. They worked as cleaners in Jeddah but have been unemployed for the last six months.The men have been sharing the single room with up to 14 other Nepalis. They first pooled their money and bought an internet data pack to ensure that they could share their plight. The internet ran out, and now they are selling gifts they had bought for their families — blankets, chocolates, watches, etc — to pay for the internet.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb5299c7e80680e07bbe9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="535" height="864"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb52b9c7e80680e07bbeajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="535" height="864"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb52d9c7e80680e07bbebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="535" height="864"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110915118/636bb52f9c7e80680e07bbecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="535" height="864">While two among them have managed to make it back to Nepal, the others whose families do not have money to send for tickets have remained behind. They are running out of food and water and have been ordered to vacate their single room. Weeks after we originally talked to Hemran, last week he left this voice message on our mobile phone: “Please help me get back home. I want to come home, I love my country. If I could come home everything would be good.”Also sharing the room are Narendra Prasad Chaudhary, 48, from Nawalparasi and Ramnepal Thakur, 53, from Dhanusha. They cannot go home because the company they worked for refuses to return their passport.Chaudhary says he was asked to pay Rs187,000 and Thakur Rs125,000 to get their passports back. “How can we pay such a huge amount?” asks Chaudhary. “We have been unemployed for the past six months.”He continues: “Having worked for 12 years, I should have received a bonus. Instead, I have to give them money. And have to pay an additional amount to go home. Why do we have to pay to go home in times like these?”-          Nitu Ghale<h2>UNITED ARAB EMIRATES</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5319c7e80680e07bbedjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>RajRaj (who asked us to hide his real name) from Bhaktapur resigned from his job in Abu Dhabi in February because he was planning to go to Croatia. However, his company did not process his resignation on time, so he got stranded in Abu Dhabi without work.After applying twice, he got his name on the Embassy of Nepal list for a chartered flight, behind 7,000 others. In June, he trusted a friend of a friend with 1,500 dirham (Rs48,000) to book his ticket. But the agent failed to get a ticket and did not return the money.Running out of cash, Raj, 43, started doing odd jobs like painting and moving goods to cover his basic expenses. With the help of the NRNA he got hold of the agent, who provided a small space in a room that he shared with two others, sleeping on the floor. Then the owner of the room asked him to move out or pay rent.While he struggles to return to Nepal, at home his family is also squeezed. Raj has a son, 13, who was studying in a private school. Without any earnings the boy will have to leave that school and move to a government one.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5349c7e80680e07bbeejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5389c7e80680e07bbefjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480">Raj has now found a new place to stay and has a flight ticket for 22 September, which he bought for Rs79,000 after collecting small amounts from many people. As of 9 September he has about Rs6,500 left, from which Rs4,800 is for a mandatory PCR test before boarding the flight.“I’m a very strong-willed person. I have faced difficulties in these past couple of months, but I have never given up. I was ready to go live on the streets if I had to. I took up odd jobs just so I could eat. I would not have survived if I was weak inside,” he says.“I have not shared the hardships with my family back in Nepal. Both my parents are old and I do not want them to be stressed because of something they cannot control. I do not think my situation will change if I share it with my 80-year-old dad — what is the point?”-          Tripty Tamang PakhrinKumar Shrestha<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb53b9c7e80680e07bbf0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="640">After more than five years working as a security guard in Dubai, Kumar Shrestha had hoped to clear his loans and save a little with this year’s earnings. Little did he know that he would be stuck in a camp in Al Quoz without a job from March onwards.Things were going according to plan until January, when his company cut his salary after business declined. In March they told him to stay home until they called. Every day his roommates would leave for work while he waited for the phone to ring. “I was unemployed for six months. I was getting 300 dirham (Rs9,600) per month for food. It is not enough for an expensive city like Dubai but I do not have any other choice,” says Shrestha, 32, from Dhading.Frustrated with the waiting, Shrestha is resigned to his fate. “I do not want to come back now. I was planning to stay for another year, pay off my bank loan, save some money and go back to my own country. The plan has been shattered by this pandemic.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb53e9c7e80680e07bbf1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="640"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5419c7e80680e07bbf2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="640">Now living with five others in a labour camp, he applied for a chartered flight from the Nepal Government but has not heard from the embassy. He planned to use his savings of Rs51,000 to buy a ticket home, but prices have risen to Rs84,000 so he cannot afford one.He dejectedly describes his life in the camp: “I have not been in a real jail but this does feel like one … there is nothing to do and I cannot go anywhere. I am just waiting for the ticket prices to go down.”-          Tripty Tamang PakhrinDipesh BhattaraiIn July, when Dipesh Bhattarai read that Nepal would resume international flights by mid-August he was thrilled. The 21-year-old has been stuck in Dubai for the last four months on an expired visa without a job, and no way to support himself. Then, his excitement turned to disappointment when the Nepal Government reversed the decision and announced that international commercial flights would remain suspended until 31 August.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5459c7e80680e07bbf3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="426"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Bhattarai left Bardia two years ago to support his family. In Dubai, he worked as a supply assistant. He calls the Nepal Embassy in Abu Dhabi every day but has not been bale to get through to someone with information. “The embassy doesn’t answer when people like us call," he says.Bhattarai has no food, is running out of money and his passport is with his former employers.“They took our passports the day we entered Dubai because they think we will run away,” he says, “this is not my country, and my country does not want me — I feel like I do not belong anywhere."-          Nitu Ghale<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb5479c7e80680e07bbf4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="571">Krishna Bahadur GandharvaKrishna Bahadur Gandharva, 30, from Sandhikharka of Arghakhanchi district was one of the 17 Nepalis who reached Dubai to work with Flex Facility Management in January 2020. The following month they were all left stranded, jobless. When their visas were cancelled, the company citing Covid-19 related reasons.The group did not have money to return to Nepal. Additionally, they had borrowed from friends and banks to pay Rs140,000 each to the recruitment agency in Nepal to get their jobs. For five months, Gandharva and his friends were stuck in the Jebel Ali camp. “It was torturous. We did not have money for food, there was no running water, there was no AC and it was 55 degrees,” he says. “The NRNA gave us food once in a while, but it would only last a few days. Some days we begged for food, some days we slept without it.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb54a9c7e80680e07bbf5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333">Their lives were made harder by supervisors and camp personnel who mentally and physically harassed them to try to force them to leave. Finally their employer and the Nepal Embassy reached an agreement and booked their tickets for free for 10 August. “We were so delighted to return to Nepal. I forgot all the hardships we endured during those five months the moment I heard the news,” says Gandharva.When they reached the airport, the UAE authorities said they would charge them for overstaying their visas. “We were asked to pay 1,287 dirham (Rs41,000) each. It was a shock,” says Gandharva, adding, “we tried calling our employer but they told us to never contact them again. We had no money so we were sent back from the airport.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109151112/636bb54d9c7e80680e07bbf6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The NRNA stepped in and provided them with a room in Bur Dubai, where they have been living ever since. “It’s been a month now and the NRNA has asked us to find a way to go back — the fine for living in Dubai without a visa is 25 Dirham (Rs800) per day,” says Gandharva. “Please rescue us and take us home.”-          Tripty Tamang PakhrinStories produced in collaboration with @NepalPhotoProject and the Photo Circle 2020 grant.

Nepali workers stuck in no-man's land

Nepal has shut down dozens of social media platforms in a move that is widely seen as an effort to tax the revenue they generate in the country, and to control content critical of government. The sites were blocked as of midnight on Thursday, 4 September and affects all Meta products including WhatsApp and Messenger, Threads, and others. Although YouTube, Google and X are also on the government’s list, they were still working as of Friday midday.&nbsp; The government says it took the action after repeated warnings to the platforms to open offices in Nepal, a Cabinet decision last month setting a deadline, as well as a 17 August Supreme Court ruling also requiring them to register and pay requisite taxes. However, the Bill cited in the ban, ‘The Operation, Use, and Regulation of Social Media in Nepal’ has not yet been passed by Parliament. Some social media platforms which were already paying taxes in Nepal even though they are not officially registered, have also been blocked. The move is the latest in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/big-beautiful-bills" target="_blank">a slew of draft legislations</a> designed to undermine Nepal’s open society. A Bill amending the Print and Publications Act would allow district bureaucrats to shut down media. Another draft Bill would allow political appointees to head a new Media Council with the power to revoke the licenses of journalists.&nbsp; A counter-intelligence Bill would let just about anyone in government to arbitrarily tap phones, read emails and trail citizens. On Wednesday the government announced new immigration requirements that would allow it to track the movement of all foreigners in the country. Yet another draft Bill has been set to Parliament to dissolve the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10675" target="_blank">Social Welfare Council (SWC)</a> and move registration and monitoring of non-governmental organisations, nonprofits and charities to the Ministry of Social Welfare. Seen in this light, the blockage of social media platforms this week is seen as the latest government attempt to constrict freedom of press. Nepal is one of the few remaining open societies in Asia, and now appears to be drifting towards authoritarianism. The government’s sudden shutdown of social media has been greeted with howls of protest on platforms that still remain open, like Viber and TikTok, as well as in Nepal’s mainstream press. Even senior members of the ruling UML-NC coalition have sharply criticised the move, asking if the government is trying to “turn Nepal into North Korea”.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656" data-rendition-name="original" width="4280" height="5187" loading="lazy" alt="social media ban in Nepal"> </figure>  The Regional Director of the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) Beh Lih Yi said in a statement: ‘Nepal’s sweeping ban on social media sets a dangerous precedent for press freedom. Blocking online news platforms vital to journalists will undermine reporting and the public’s right to information. The government must immediately rescind this order and restore access to social media platforms, which are essential tools for exercising press freedom.’ Besides undermining press freedom, blocking social media platforms will also hurt commerce and the economy since so many small and medium business trade through Instagram, Facebook and other platforms. Nepal’s vibrant social media has also been a boost or citizens to assert identity, build solidarity against injustice and play an adversarial role when the mainstream media does not do it. Social media platforms have also become the tenuous link for Nepali families scattered across the world to keep in touch with each other — its importance growing with the increasing size of the diaspora. The government wants social media platforms to register, pay taxes and remove posts on their sites that ‘undermine the national interest and Nepal’s territorial integrity, disturb social and religious harmony’.&nbsp; In response, rights activists have said while there is need for the government to regulate extreme content and hate speech, officials appear to be more intent on clamping down on free speech and trying to force platforms to share the revenue. On Friday, the government had allowed WhatsApp back online, but there were reports that it had instructed the Nepal Telecommunication Authority (NTA) to instruct mobile and internet service providers to block by Friday night all platforms, including Facebook, Instagram, Messenger, WhatsApp, X (Twitter), YouTube, LinkedIn, Reddit, Threads, Snapchat, Pinterest, Signal, Clubhouse, Rumble.&nbsp; Platforms that have registered and are allowed include TikTok, Viber, Nimbuzz, Popo Live, WeTalk, Global Diary and the Nepali portal Hamro Patro. TikTok was banned last year for ‘disturbing social harmony’ and it was lifted after the platform registered its office in Nepal. But even while it was banned, many users simply switched to VPN. Telegram was also banned for ‘financial crimes’ and it has since also been allowed back. NTA officials confirmed that some Asia-Pacific regional offices of platforms, including Meta had been in touch overnight inquiring about the registration process.&nbsp; Nepal is not alone in regulating social media. China bans most Western platforms, Russia and Turkey regulate their and require platforms to locate their data servers in the country. Gulf countries allow social media but keep a tight control on dissent.&nbsp; Experts have said even the government will not dare close down YouTube since so many Nepali individuals and companies make money with posts on that platform, and closing it would also impact on Google and Gmail. Facebook had also just launched a monetisation scheme for videos and reels, and Nepalis uploading content would lose revenue.&nbsp; Blocking the platforms has already hit content creators, influencers and cut small businesses from reaching customers. A survey of social media use in Nepal by Sharecast Initiative showed that 94% of those with smart phones used YouTube, followed by Facebook (92%) while TikTok was in the 50-60% range. X and Instagram were in the single digits. A YouTube ban will also hurt the mainstream media since up to 20% of the revenue of Nepal’s main tv channels came through YouTube. Some 11.1 million Nepalis watch YouTube content every day, the survey showed. ‘For global giants like Meta or Google, Nepal is a small market, and they may not even flinch — but for millions of Nepalis, these platforms are central to daily life, livelihoods, and connections across the world,’ wrote AI consultant Naresh Newar in a LinkedIn post. Some experts said the government’s sweeping ban on social media networks was untenable and the government would be forced to rollback sooner or later. Said editor Shiva Gaunle: “The platforms had given citizens a voice and broken the monopoly of the government, legislators, the courts and journalists over public opinion. This is an effort to reassert that monopoly, but Nepal can never be turned into a North Korea.”

Protest grows against Nepal’s social media ban

It was 30 years ago this month that investment into ‘Baby Arun’, the 201MW first phase of the run-of-river Arun III project, was brought to a screeching halt when the World Bank officially withdrew its support. This brought about profound and fundamental changes in the way Nepal’s power sector subsequently developed. Nepalis suffered debilitating power outages between 2008-2016 due to shortages attributable to the cancellation. At the same time, the gap left by Baby Arun was filled by private sector investment in ways that were not obvious in 1995. It took 30 years, but in many ways Nepal’s power sector is more healthy today than it has ever been, and likely better than if the project was built as planned. At a projected budget of $1.08 billion, Baby Arun would have cost the equivalent of Nepal’s entire annual government expenditure in 1995. It was to be funded by concessional grants and loans from multilateral and bilateral funders, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank (ADB), KfW, and investment by the government itself. At the time, Nepal’s total electricity generation capacity was only 230MW, and the trajectory of the power sector changed dramatically following the cancellation. In the past 30 years, $5.4 billion has been invested in the power sector led by private investors, and much of it from domestic banks and pension funds (table, right).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="984" height="521" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Nearly 70% of the new megawatts generated were by private independent power producers (IPP) in the past 30 years, while the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) and its subsidiary companies added 30% of new capacity. Almost 80% of total debt financing came from domestic banks and employee retirement funds. International assistance for power generation dropped dramatically over this time, accounting for only about 15% of investment. Before 1995 new power projects used to be entirely dependent on foreign aid. Since 1995, 63% of new generation came from 171 small hydropower projects with an average capacity of 12MW, while 4% was from 21 solar photovoltaic and biomass projects developed by local IPPs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="503" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Over three decades, investment in Nepal’s power supply came primarily from new actors that had never before been involved in this sector. The rate of electrification rose from 10% to close to 100% -- sufficient to meet domestic needs during most of the year, and in 2024 made Nepal a net exporter of power to India for the first time in its history. As practically all the new investment in this period went into run-of-river hydro and solar projects, rather than into hydropower reservoirs with seasonal storage, Nepal continues to rely on imports from India during the dry winter months. Surplus electricity generation for export during the monsoon is slated to grow rapidly as another 200 solar and hydro projects are nearing completion of construction, with over 5,000MW of power capacity. Private Power The cancellation of Baby Arun inadvertently accelerated the entry of the private sector into Nepal’s power generation. The government enacted the Electricity Act in 1992 to attract private IPPs and diversify away from total dependence from international aid, but had been struggling for several years to conclude the first agreement with the 60MW Khimti Project. There remained a large gap between the tariff that the government thought was reasonable versus what was demanded by the Norwegian investor Statkraft, and the private sector arms of the World Bank and ADB that were financing the project. The shock of World Bank withdrawal from Baby Arun put tremendous pressure on the government, then led by the UML as it is now. The Bank’s decision to terminate its involvement was ostensibly, at least partially, taken in response to a letter critiquing the project sent by the UML while it was in the opposition.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347" data-rendition-name="original" width="949" height="446" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>BAD NEWS: Newspaper clippings from the early 90s on tender announcement ahead of loan approval (left) and secrecy surrounding environmental assessment (centre) of Arun III before its eventual cancellation in August 1995.</figcaption> </figure>  The government was forced to soften its position and agree to the investors’ terms following the cancellation of Baby Arun. It directed NEA to sign a power purchase agreement (PPA) with Khimti. It was concluded in January 1996, and this was followed by a second PPA in July 1996 with Panda Energy, the American developer of the 45MW Upper Bhotekosi project. The expensive USD-denominated agreements to buy power from two international private producers, with price escalation clauses tied to the New York Consumer Price Index, sent alarm bells ringing. There was worry that the country was heading towards unaffordable tariff rates for the consumer and potential bankruptcy for NEA as a result of inevitable future weakening of the Nepali Rupee. The government had strong-armed NEA into signing these agreements, and realised that concessionary financing terms that Nepal was used to receiving for public sector projects such as Baby Arun and Kali Gandaki A, that included below-market interest rates and 40 years repayment period with a 10 year grace period before starting repayment, were not the norm for private sector investors. Nepal’s status as a less than attractive destination for foreign investment meant that the country had few options but to accept expensive dollar PPAs from international developers with the high commercial interest rates and short repayment periods imposed by their banks because of high investment risks. In the end, the government ended up having to additionally provide a sovereign guarantee in order to close the deal at the insistence of the lenders – committing it to repayment in case NEA defaulted on paying the IPPs. It is reasonable to assume that the extraordinarily high political cost of agreeing to the PPA terms would have meant that no government would have willingly agreed to them in 1995 had it not suffered the trauma of the loss of concessionary-financed public sector projects as large as the Baby Arun. It has taken NEA 25 years to consider offering dollar-denominated PPAs again: to cover the foreign exchange portion of the investment in the 216MW Upper Trisuli-1 and 120MW Rasuwa-Bhotekosi Hydropower projects. It seemed unlikely at the time, but it turned out that the dire situation Nepal found itself in 1995 planted the seed to mobilise investment for affordable power from within the country. Double Whammy After the dual shock of first losing investment in Baby Arun and having to sign expensive power purchase agreements with international IPPs, the first proposal for an alternative strategy to mitigate the risk of foreign currency investment into hydropower projects came from a group of engineers within the Arun III team at NEA. Led by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4900">Deputy Director Damber Bahadur Nepali,</a> engineers convinced the leadership that NEA needed to invest in a subsidiary company to build a series of locally-designed and domestically-financed projects that would have lower cost with rupee-denominated PPAs. They registered the Chilime Hydropower Company Limited (CHCL) in October 1995 with 51% shares from NEA, 25% from its employees, and 24% available for the general public, 10% of which was prioritised for local residents at the project site. The 22.1MW project is in Rasuwa on a tributary of the Trisuli, and mobilised debt financing from the Employee Provident Fund, which manages retirement savings for employees of the government, public enterprises, and private sector institutions. CHCL’s experience showed that NEA employees themselves believed that individual hydropower projects with operational independence from NEA could be developed profitably in Nepal by its own engineers -- and they were willing to put their own money on the line. Chilime also demonstrated that there was money in the country, particularly with retirement funds, looking for opportunities for long-term investments. Following completion of Chilime in 2003, CHCL led the formation of three other NEA subsidiary companies that completed construction in 2023 and 2024, producing 168.3MW using fully rupee-tied investment. NEA’s largest subsidiary, the Upper Tamakosi Hydropower Limited, completed construction of its 456MW plant in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1571" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>DAMNED: The $700 million 456MW Upper Tamakosi built entirely with domestic funds before it was destroyed by the September floods last year. </figcaption> </figure>  There were some delays and cost overruns on this run-of-river project, the largest in the country with a final cost of over $700 million -- all of it sourced domestically. The five subsidiary companies launched by NEA have produced almost two times as much new power as NEA has over the past 30 years. Seven other NEA subsidiaries are currently constructing projects to add another 474MW to the national grid. But even more important than NEA subsidiaries have been local IPPs: Nepali companies which have over the past three decades enthusiastically entered the hydropower sector. From a regulatory perspective, the credit for mobilising domestic private investment to engage in power generation goes to Minister of Water Resources Shailaja Acharya, who in 1998 offered a flat feed-in-tariff of Rs4/kWh for hydropower projects under 10MW. This upfront offer removed a major barrier that early developers had faced of having to spend money to carry out a detailed feasibility study before they could even start tariff negotiations with NEA. She had laid the foundation stone of the Chilime project, and proved to be the champion of opening up the sector for domestic IPPs. The guarantee of a PPA with a fixed tariff, irrespective of project specifications, gave small power developers the confidence to apply for survey licenses and invest in feasibility studies so they could directly approach commercial banks and make a case for their project producing required revenue to repay loans. Domestic IPPs started adding power to the national grid in 2002. Their contribution was initially modest, and first projects were small and commercial lenders who took time to be confident about providing debt financing to a sector which had previously not been considered suitable for private sector investment. While the first 10 years were slow, with less than 10MW being added to the grid each year, this increased twenty fold over the following ten years, resulting in the equivalent of a Baby Arun being added by Nepali IPPs to the grid each year. A total of 84 IPPs added 232MW, 328 MW, 454MW, and 400MW of new generation to the grid in 2021-2024 (graph). There was explosive, exponential growth as domestic developers have surged ahead to account for 76% of the new megawatts added to the grid since 2020, compared to 24% by NEA and its subsidiary companies. The megawatts that IPPs are adding have followed the classic ‘hockey stick curve’ with the ‘breakout point’, signaling the rapid growth phase in 2020. Private producers are expected to accelerate new generation in the coming years with 300 solar and hydropower projects adding 11,000MW. Another 166 hydropower and 96 solar projects are currently in the survey stage, and are in line to add another 11,000MW to the construction pipeline. One major challenge is finding financing required for the projects. Domestic investment will no longer be sufficient to finance this ambitious pipeline of renewable energy projects. Project developers as well as NEA and the Electricity Regulatory Commission will have to leverage their substantial experience accumulated through the construction of over 200 projects to attract regional and international investment and hedge the risks of dollar-denominated PPAs. Following the cancellation of Baby Arun, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Nepal developed a highly distributed power sector</a>. The national electricity grid is currently supplied with power from a remarkably decentralised array of hundreds of hydropower and solar photovoltaic projects spread across 43 districts and all seven provinces.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1228" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  This presents a sharp contrast to the pathway of a few large public sector hydropower projects with a sprinkling of private sector projects that was envisioned as part of NEA’s investment planning when Baby Arun was being considered the front runner for investment. The strategy then was to allow public sector investment in a few large hydropower projects with thermal plants to fill the gap. Knowing what we know now about acceleration of climate change impacts and increased extreme weather events, following this path would have made Nepal’s power sector highly vulnerable. Decentralised generation greatly improves the resilience of Nepal’s power supply as damage to power plants in one part of the country need not affect other areas that have their own generation. Following the investment plan where over two thirds of the country’s power supply would have come from power plants on the Arun River, would have greatly imperiled Nepal’s energy security. All rivers in Nepal are susceptible to flooding from cloudbursts made more frequent by climate change. The Arun River which is fed by glaciers in Tibet is also at risk to glacial lake outburst floods. Bikash Pandey is Director of Clean Energy and Circular Economy at Winrock International. People Power is his regular column in Nepali Times on global energy issues relevant to Nepal. <h2>Decentralised and Diversified</h2> In the 30 years since the cancellation of ‘Baby Arun’: Hydropower projects constructed cover capacities ranging from less than 1MW to 456MW and developed by IPPs from across the country with strong local involvement in purchasing equity shares. Renewable energy sources contributed to the generation mix through solar IPPs that further contribute to climate resilience, and cover shortfalls during low rainfall. The government is committed to solar contributing 10% of the power on the grid. Increasing solar beyond this target and providing incentives to project developers to invest in utility-scale battery storage would further improve resilience. BIG ARUN: The 900MW Arun III project under construction since 2018 at Num in Sankhuwasabha (pictured, below) is a separate initiative by a different project developer using a different financing modality. The ‘Baby Arun’ version of Arun III was cancelled in 1995.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> </figure>

30 years after Baby Arun

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2fZXyjsE28" target="_blank">Yog Narendra Malla</a> became king at age 18, and ruled Patan from 1684-1705 — his reign marked by a cultural and architectural renaissance of the city state. He put up a statue of himself in the palace square with a little bronze bird sitting on the guardian serpent above his head. It is said he told his subjects that he would look after their welfare till the day the bird flew off. During<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> the 2015 earthquake</a>, the pedestal collapsed and the statue was damaged. The bird was lost, only to be located in a pile of debris and reinstated when the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782" target="_blank">statue was consecrated</a> two years later. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/x2fZXyjsE28?si=jYfIb4p6zCLXYQ1T" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> History remembers Yog Narendra Malla as a wise king, but like most<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home"> royalty of the day</a>, he had a weakness for women. He is supposed to have consorted with 30 queens and numerous concubines. At least 33 of them self-immolated themselves on the king's funeral pyre when he died, adhering to the prevailing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Jhola,947">practice of sati</a>. When Yog Narendra Malla’s favourite queen found out that he was carrying on with yet another woman, she got the local community of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood to stage a shadow sex play to quite literally expose his unfaithfulness. Actors enacted the explicit exploits of the king and his mistress, a bright butter lamp projecting the moving shadows of their lovemaking on a thin white drape to entertain those gathered in the square below. The queen made sure that the show was designed to face the home of the king’s paramour to shame them both. She also paid for a group to chant a bhajan with lyrics that ridiculed the king’s extramarital affair. The Jhyalcha Guthi community trust that the queen set up three-and-half century ago is still active to this day, and performs the annual shadow play in the same building in Kwelachhi the day before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Indra Jatra </a>every year. This year’s show is on Friday evening, 5 September. The opening lines of the chants that accompany the play are the same words approved by the queen all those years ago: “Raja Yog Narendra ya aparadh…” (King Yog Narendra’s crime…) The community leader of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood, 62-year-old Baburaja Awale, explains the importance of the event: “This Jhyalcha is our<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303"> intangible heritage</a> and oral history. We do not have a written format, it has been passed down from generation to generation. Every word of the bhajan is the story of King Yog Narendra Malla.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Sex and the city of Patan"> <figcaption>The statue of Yog Narendra Malla being reinstated after it toppled in the 2015 earthquake. Photo: GOPEN RAI/ NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Jhyalcha Pyankha, as the ceremony is called, starts with a puja for the Bhimsen — the god of wealth and prosperity, a popular <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-homecoming-of-nepal-s-gods">deity in Patan</a> who has a temple dedicated just to him in the palace square. This is immediately followed by a bhajan of Bhairab performed with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-house,670">traditional Newa musical instruments</a>. Community members serve snacks consisting of samay baji beaten rice, water buffalo chunks, soybean, green veggies, lentils, ginger, garlic and aila liquor. “In the first act of the shadow play, the man initiates the lovemaking, and in the third it is the woman,” says Laxmi Lal Awale, also a member of the trust that organises the show. The shadow action is all uncensored, but interspersed with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">scenes of everyday life</a>: the woman is spinning a thread, the king is going about his royal chores, and the two sit down to share sanacha fermented pickle that is popular this time of year. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qZ3twuG1wNQ?si=yRfkoC3A-X9cIl8r" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> “Back then, there was no tv, films or YouTube, and yet we managed to stage the shadow play using our own resourcefulness,” says Baburaja Awale. “It is important to continue the tradition.” The challenge now is to ensure that the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain"> younger generation takes over</a>, learning the lyrics of the ancient bhajan. The dafa khala group that performs all over Patan during festivals and religious events is now training teenagers to play the musical instruments and act in the shadow play. The Jhyalcha was staged even after the 2015 earthquake when the falcha where the bhajan is performed collapsed and they made-do in a tin shed. The structure was later rebuilt with a grant from the group, Photo Circle. Lalitpur Metropolitan City sets aside a budget of Rs50,000 to organise the Jhyalcha Pyankha every year, but this is not enough and is supplemented by individual donations. The performers including musicians and actors are all volunteers, and take part in it because it is their community duty. The erotic shadow play was way ahead of its time, not just in its graphic content but the use of contemporary local technology as well as improvisation and pure imagination. Says Laxmi Lal: “Whatever its origin in the legend of King Yog Narendra Malla and his queen, Jhyalcha also served as a medium of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lets-talk-about-it">sex education</a>. In the past, women were discouraged from watching the shadow play, but today everyone is welcome, we all watch it together.” Jhyalcha Pyankha Kwelachhi, Chyasal, Patan 7PM onwards Friday, 5 September

Sex and the city of Patan

This is the 72nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father ran a store and that is where I spent all my time till Grade 6. Doing my homework. Serving customers. I then moved to my maternal grandparents’ house because I used to get along with my cousin who was a year older than me. We did everything together, and were best friends. We took turns studying: I was a night owl, and he was an early riser. Before I went to bed after studying all night, I woke him up. My mother was 44 when I was born, the same year my eldest brother got married. My sister-in-law becoming a part of our family was how my mother referenced my age. I liked making money, and was always a hustler. In Grade 7, I learnt to handle a tractor and helped my brother-in-law to plough, earning Rs10 a day. As I got better, he paid me more. By Grade 9, I was already making Rs500 per day, but had to slow down to prepare for my exams. From an early age I knew I did not want a 9-5 job. There just wasn’t enough money in it. I wanted to get into business, and compared my brother who worked in the post office and what businessmen made. It did not help that my brother was honest, and never took bribes. A friend and I made money selling cheap Chinese phones at a premium to our friends. We blasted music on the phones and pretended that we were giving them a discount. After SLC, I started teaching math and other subjects. I was soon a shareholder in the same school and in the evening I was involved in our family’s floriculture business, growing amaranth and marigold for garlands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="955" height="1314" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  It was then that a friend suggested we learn the Korean language. We could be earning significantly higher in Korea for similar efforts. I had no plans to go abroad but he convinced me. I did not know anything about Korea, and was scolded at the language institute when I asked someone to point Korea on the map.&nbsp; It was only there that I learnt you had to pass an exam for the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS), and pay for language classes. After a week, I decided it was not for me and dropped out. But my friend convinced me to give it one more try. I did not prepare much for the exam, and it was no surprise that I failed. But it was just by one mark, and people would pity me for failing “just by one mark”. It was a brand of failure. It hurt my ego. I had to turn things around by taking the exams seriously, and locked myself up to study hard.&nbsp; Even when we had visitors, my wife told them I was not home. If I was not in my room learning Korean, I would be with a group of ten of us test-takers comparing notes and practicing late into the night. The exam was difficult, but this time I passed, the only one in my group who did.&nbsp; As someone who never liked the idea of doing a job, I still had my doubts about going to Korea. It did not help that one of my acquaintances had returned a month after he had left, and he discouraged me from migrating given that I was already making good money in Nepal.&nbsp; But my wife suggested that I give it a shot since I had worked so hard for it. And if it really turned out not to be my cup of tea, I could always return. What did I have to lose, I thought, at least I would get to visit Korea. My job there was in an electrical company that made circuit boards. I worked all day, earned good money. In the evenings, I kept myself busy with my real estate business back in Nepal. I had learnt the tricks of the trade from fellow real estate agents back home, but at the time did not have the capital to invest.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  In Korea, it helped that I had salary records that allowed me to get loans from financial institutions both in Korea and in Nepal. Ultimately, I started earning more from my real estate deals in Nepal than from my job in Korea. This was all thanks to my ability to take loans because of the EPS scheme. My wife has been managing the flower business while I was away. My finances grew stronger over the eight years I was in Korea. I paid off the loans that I had borrowed to buy land. But real estate did not satisfy me entirely. I wondered: what is my brand? What will I be known for? What is my contribution to society? Real estate is for wealth, but that is about it. I needed to sell one piece of land and use the revenue to start a venture. I took classes in business, and returned to Nepal six months ago and got back to my family’s ancestral roots in floriculture. In Nepal too, I am continuing the entrepreneurship training I had started in Korea with the Bridge International. Such exposure helps us reflect on our business such as our branding, vision, and proactive aspects like the importance of strong recordkeeping.&nbsp; I am now working to upgrade and expand my floriculture business. With a friend who is still in Korea I am building a cooling room to increase the shelf-life of flowers and other produce and set up a market in my village where others can sell their produce. Floriculture is our primary business, but it is seasonal and earns good money only during festivals like Tihar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  So, I grow tomatoes to ensure year-round earnings. I also am engaged in other businesses like real estate and online shopping. I work round the clock in Nepal — a strong work ethic is something I picked up in Korea.&nbsp; My Korean bosses would work alongside us, that motivated us. I work just as hard in Nepal as I did in Korea. People here often ask me why I am pushing myself so hard. But making garlands comes easy to me, it is work my forebears were involved in. My childhood memories are about plucking flowers with my sister. I have a comparative advantage in this work. It comes naturally to me, it is easy and I enjoy it. And sometimes, if there are too many garlands to make, I can multitask while holding meetings. My fingers just fly. I am good at this job, but my wife is even better and faster.&nbsp; When there is too much load, we can also outsource the work. To be known as the flower guy would be great personal branding. The मखमली guy. Or the सयपत्री guy. I decided to come home for just this with a one-way ticket. “अब पासा: जाँदैन ल्हासा!” &nbsp;