The 7 October Hamas attack on southern Israel near the Gaza border killed 1,139 people, 764 of them civilians, 251 were taken hostage, with Nepali student Bipin Joshi possibly among them.&nbsp;
Of the 17 work-study Nepalis at Kibbutz Alumim, 10 were mercilessly murdered by Hamas. This newspaper covered the tragic deaths, profiled the students describing their hopes and dreams, and spoke to their grief-stricken families in western Nepal.&nbsp;
Although the conflicts in West Asia may seem distant, the deaths proved that they directly impact Nepalis. There are thousands of Nepali caregivers and students in Israel, and at least 2.5 million others employed in the Gulf region who will be affected in case the conflict spreads. A larger conflagration would affect food and fuel prices, and further harm Nepal’s struggling remittance-driven economy.
The Israel-Palestine conflict is rooted in history that goes back to the British mandate by the League of Nations and the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 following the Holocaust. Although the Jewish people were granted a national home, they were also supposed to protect the rights of the Arab majority in the land.
The conflicts in Gaza, Yemen, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq today are essentially proxy wars between Saudi-UAE vs Iran. And because an enemy of an enemy is considered a friend, Israel patched up with Saudi-Emirates which explains the muted response from Gulf governments (and the West) about what is happening in Gaza.&nbsp;
Since 7 October, the world has watched the unending horror of Israel’s asymmetric and disproportionate retaliation against Palestinian civilians. Nearly 38,000 people have been killed in Gaza alone, more than 15,000 of them babies and children.&nbsp;
The Israeli state cannot use Hamas terrorism as an excuse for its own war crimes. The air time and column inches the Western media devoted last week to the freeing of four Israeli hostages was much more than the collateral killing of 274 Palestinians during the rescue.&nbsp;
More journalists (mostly Palestinians) have been killed in 8 months than in all the six years of World War II. Nearly all schools and hospitals have been destroyed. Journalists in Gaza are risking their lives to bring the humanitarian catastrophe to the world's attention. Without them, we would not know the truth.&nbsp;
But even as a military strategy this is not smart. Israel does not have an exit plan.This is not war, it flouts all international conventions on the rules of warfare. A genocide perpetrated 80 years ago cannot justify another one today.&nbsp;
The Israeli government must know what it is doing is wrong because it is thin-skinned about any reference to ‘genocide’ and label everyone from student protesters at US universities to world leaders who speak out ‘anti-Semites’.&nbsp;
When António Guterres only obliquely said the Hamas attack “did not happen in a vacuum”, it was intolerable for the Israelis. The government lashed back at the United Nations Secretary-General. Israel has also hit back at South Africa for filing a genocide case at International Court of Justice in The Hague for its conduct of the war.&nbsp;
After nearly eight months of relentless bombardment, many Gazans are so fed up that there is reported to be growing resentment against Hamas for using them as human shields. It is clear Hamas does not care much about civilian lives either.&nbsp;
But there is also deep distress among ordinary Israelis about how Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has sullied their country’s international image.&nbsp;
Netanyahu himself is not fighting Hamas, he is fighting for his political longevity by appeasing extremist coalition partners.
On Monday he dissolved the war cabinet after former general and opposition leader Benny Gantz resigned, Netanyahu is replacing it with a smaller war council made up of hard-right members who now want to go after Hezbollah in Lebanon.
During his acceptance speech at this year’s Oscars in March, Jonathan Glazer, the Jewish director of the movie Zone of Interest set in Auschwitz during the Holocaust, said: “Right now, we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October 7 in Israel or the on-going attack on Gaza — all the victims of this dehumanisation, how do we resist?”
Nepal recognised the Palestinian state in 1988, and was only the second Asian country to establish bilateral relations with Israel in 1960 at a time when the Jewish state was regarded as a pariah by most of the world. B P Koirala’s friendship with David Ben Gurion was an important factor behind the move.&nbsp;
We wonder what B P would say today of the annihilation of Gaza.
Sonia Awale

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Crime against humanity in Gaza

This is the 44th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; Waiting outside the operation theatre in Jerusalem, I was getting restless as Prabin Dangi, one of the Learn and Earn students who miraculously survived the Hamas attack was getting surgery inside. I learnt from a Nepali community social media group chat that he had been brought to a hospital in Jerusalem where I live, so I rushed over. He had been shot in both the legs. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal">War in Israel, earthquake and grief in Nepal</a> Other bullets that would have killed him, just like his friends in the bunker, ricocheted off the wall dislodging a piece of stone which fell on his head requiring Prabin to get stitches. I was worried sick as I waited restlessly hoping for another miracle. It took six hours for the surgery to be over. Reading the news about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">fellow Nepalis getting killed</a> had broken me, perhaps a common emotion experienced by Nepalis everywhere.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231012111044_711d3b75c0ee1fd78d42478cd5265e57ce38c87d305aca61a42415c63af565e6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231012111044_711d3b75c0ee1fd78d42478cd5265e57ce38c87d305aca61a42415c63af565e6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Israel Hamas attack NT 1"> <figcaption>Prabin Dangi after his surgery. </figcaption> </figure>  A video of him hiding in his bunker saying “My mother is very sick. Please save her. I think I will die” had gone viral and yet, despite the odds, he made it out alive. I found myself cheering on a stranger in a foreign land. But then again, he was not really a stranger. When you are abroad, just coming across a Nepali makes you instantly bond, and somehow there is a close connection. And in this horrific situation, knowing about what he had been through, and realising that he was my son’s age, I had to help. He was definitely not a stranger. We were family. And perhaps the whole of Nepal is now wishing him a speedy recovery. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-nepali-s-lucky-escape-from-hamas">A Nepali's lucky escape from Hamas</a>, Nischal Pandey Finally, after six hours, the surgery ended successfully. I convinced the medical staff to let me see him, appealing to their conscience. In that chaos, rules did not matter, and they allowed me in. I introduced myself to him as his sister. He asked me if he still had his legs. I assured him that he did. Despite the injuries, much to his relief, his legs did not have to be amputated. With therapy and healing, he will be back on his in time. I tried my best to keep his morale high, to steer the conversation away from the nightmare. I had to remind him that despite the situation in that crowded hospital ward where beds were all taken up by other wounded, he was very lucky. Other Nepalis have come together to help Prabin. We are all here to work, and have long duty hours, but we have set up a schedule to make sure that there is a Nepali at the hospital to take care of him at all times. Nepalis also collected money to buy him a phone so he can stay connected with his family. As he builds an appetite, which he currently does not have, we will take turns to take Nepali food for him and make sure that he does not feel alone while he recovers. He knew his father’s number by heart, so I called him during our first meet. His father cried but was also relieved to hear about his son’s health. With him, I cried as well. What must be going through the family’s mind when your son, who had just recently gone overseas with big dreams, met with such a freak incident? Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trapped-in-ukraine">Trapped in Ukraine</a> He narrowly escaped death, and the road to recovery is long. Unexpected long-distance bad news is perhaps one of the most difficult realities for transnational families like us. You are going by your normal day, and suddenly, your life just turns upside down. With the news of a death, sickness, accident and in Prabin’s case, a terrorist attack. I myself went through a similar experience of finding out crushing news from home when my husband passed away seven years ago suddenly, unexpectedly, of a heart attack.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231012111056_95273056de34598ec25704573e0e71ff8f9a98f7c5da236b9d32a89e8ed60308.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231012111056_95273056de34598ec25704573e0e71ff8f9a98f7c5da236b9d32a89e8ed60308" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="480" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis killed in Israel Hamas attack NT"> <figcaption>Prabha Ghimire with her late husband who passed away due to a heart attack.</figcaption> </figure>  He was a loving husband, and I never got over the loss. I do not know how I made it to Nepal, neither do I know how I made it back to Israel. It is all a blur. But once I returned, the caregiver in me needed care myself. I was sick, and used to faint. I had lost my appetite and was weak. My blood pressure was low and I had to be escorted back to my room as I would pass out unexpectedly. I relied on medicines. I would break down unexpectedly and constantly. Grief hits you in different ways, and I struggled to cope. Luckily, the Israeli family I work for was understanding. They let me grieve and gave me all the space I needed. They even offered to let me go so I could be with my family. I insisted on staying on. I had to get myself out of that deep hole. In the end, it was the thought of my sons back home in Nepal that gave me the strength to try harder. With my husband gone, I was their sole guardian. I had to pull myself together for their sake. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-family-spread-across-kuwait-cyprus-uae">Nepali family spread across Kuwait, Cyprus, UAE</a>, Tsering Lama and Pasang Lama Fifteen years abroad is a significant part of your life. The caregiver job has had its ups and downs, gains and losses. The earnings are good, and I have invested in educating my sons. They are now in Canada and the US, well-educated and doing well for themselves. But how do you weigh that against not knowing what it is like to be close to your children -- watching them grow up. They too do not know what it is like to have their mother around. But had I not come to Israel to work, they probably would not have made it as far as they have.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231012111048_16388368274c2812ee2d60296b229b0129243aeaed6f6bb9a0dff0d97090c3a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20231012111048_16388368274c2812ee2d60296b229b0129243aeaed6f6bb9a0dff0d97090c3a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="776" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Israel Hamas attack NT 1"> <figcaption>Prabha Ghimire with her son and his friends in the US. </figcaption> </figure>  How do you measure this tradeoff, especially given the loss of my husband in the midst of our long-distance marriage? We were married in Nepal when I was just 14, just a child myself. My mother-in-law had passed, and even as a teenager I had to assume the role of guardian of my husband's eight younger siblings. They too treated me like their mother. At first I was unsure of what I was doing as I learnt to cook, chase and clean after them. Perhaps this trained me well for my later <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/nepali-caregivers-in-israel,3809">caregiver role</a> here in Israel when I came in 2007. Since then I have changed three employers. Sadly, the reason the last two times has been the passing of my elderly patients. It’s easy to get attached to these frail seniors who become more and more dependent on you. Keeping them company and having conversations is also a huge part of my job. They remember their younger days, share interesting snippets or give life advice. When I go home to Nepal on yearly breaks, the substitute who usually is a Nepali calls me to tell me to come back as soon as possible as savta (grandmother) is missing me and asking for me. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231012111048_2ea77043e2069c6facc4e846fffa529995d98da03d17d60ed34aa3a5d42b2d3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20231012111048_2ea77043e2069c6facc4e846fffa529995d98da03d17d60ed34aa3a5d42b2d3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Israel Hamas attack NT 1"> <figcaption>Prabha Ghimire with her elderly patients in Iarael. </figcaption> </figure>  I carry a little bit of each of these patients with me. I have had one employer who till her last day made it a point to put make up on every morning and look dolled up. She loved to eat outside and had a zest for life that was infectious. She introduced me to Turkish drama that she loved. My first employer who died within the first year I had come to Israel taught me how to make new recipes like yalanchi. Everytime I prepare or eat those dishes, I think about her. My current employer who I have been working with for 11 years has been hospitalised since the last few years, and my only role is to keep company throughout the day. Her health has deteriorated, and she relies on machines to keep her alive including for food, so I do not have any caregiving role as such, other than to provide her moral support and company. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/caring-for-her-own-and-others-ho4nidzs">Caring for her own and others</a>, Shyam Kala Rai I tell her about what is going on, and I know she understands me based on her gestures. The hospital provides all the care she needs, but her family has insisted that I stay because they say my companionship makes a visible impact on her health and morale. She turns 99 next week. She will be my last employer. After this, I will be spending time with my own family. I have visited my son in the US for a month, and it felt like I had really laughed from the heart for the first time since his father’s passing. We talked, and I cooked for him. I plan to do more of that in the coming days, as we have to make up for lost time. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231012111044_93b1cb9cc3b3643bfa05c635fe364a09e87395f05b364ac52c2c9a2a7c773189.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20231012111044_93b1cb9cc3b3643bfa05c635fe364a09e87395f05b364ac52c2c9a2a7c773189" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Nepalis in Israel Hamas attack NT 1"> <figcaption>Prabha Ghimire spent some time with her in the US. </figcaption> </figure>  In my years in Israel, sirens have been common. You rush to the bunker to hide every time it goes off. But this week was unlike anything I have experienced before. In life, you can never say what will happen next. The fact that a young man from Nepal in his 20s is lying in a hospital thousands of miles away from family after surviving such a horrific attack that killed his friends shows just how unpredictable life can be.&nbsp; Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform to share experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Bringing Nepal to Israel

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

Nepal’s AI-generated election

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

New vs New in Nepal

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

Mass migration from Muktikot

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

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