The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">Bhote Kosi flood </a>this month was a stark warning of the increased risk to Nepal’s hydropower plants due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown</a>, and the disaster has prompted a rethinking into solar energy options. Nepal has pursued an energy strategy that relies almost totally on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-first-hydropower-from-a-glacial-lake">hydroelectricity</a>, but grid-scale solar power is becoming cheaper and offers a viable alternative. Solar energy accounts for a mere 0.1% of Nepal’s total installed generation of nearly 3,800MW. The rest of the world can now afford solar power because of China’s production. The price of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">solar panels</a> has gone down by up to 90% in the past decade. “One advantage of solar over hydro is the speed at which projects can be set up,” says Kushal Gurung of WindPower, “a 100MW hydro might take ten years to build, while a solar plant of the same capacity can be set up in six months.” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/disasters-in-nepal-come-in-waves">Landslides, floods and earthquakes </a>frequently damage hydropower stations. The Rasuwa flood last week affected 230MW of generation capacity from four plants along the Trisuli. Last September’s flood badly damaged the 456MW Upper Tama Kosi.&nbsp; The <a href="about:blank">Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) </a>and private power producers lost much revenue, and Nepal had to stop exporting monsoon <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/securing-nepal-s-electric-future?%3Dhttps://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/securing-nepal-s-electric-future?%3D">surplus electricity</a> to India last year. Damaged solar projects, on the other hand, can be up and running after repairs within a few weeks.&nbsp; “The main limitation of solar is land,” explains Gurung. “While a relatively small hydro project can generate 5-10MW pretty easily, a 1MW solar plant requires 500 m2 of land.”&nbsp; Where the plant is situated matters as well. The best region is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang</a>, because it gets the most solar radiation per unit area over a specific period. The Tarai may get a lot of sun but cloud cover, fog and pollution makes it less ‘irradiated’. The efficiency of a photovoltaic cell also drops, the higher the ambient temperature. “A 1kW panel in Mustang might give you 6-7 units per day, while the same panel in the Tarai would give you half that,” says Gurung.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025072007078_a3d7a85cd25d15db78077a60a62d121a2e6aa8c7a669e13345297be142272333.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025072007078_a3d7a85cd25d15db78077a60a62d121a2e6aa8c7a669e13345297be142272333" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="810" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  Another advantage for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-s-cooking-in-nepal-besides-politics">solar in Nepal</a> is how decentralised it can be. An unreliable grid and difficult terrain make it hard to build <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/hydrocarbon-to-hydropower">hydropower stations</a> and transmission lines, but home solar systems can be set up easily and provide reliable energy especially when paired with batteries for &nbsp;morning and the night.&nbsp; Hydropower dams submerge large tracts of fertile valleys, impact ecosystems and displace people. But NEA and energy producers are locked into hydro, and are reluctant to shift to solar.&nbsp; <a href="https://ghampower.com/">GhamPower</a> is moving into solar in a big way, offering strategic funding to make panels available to poorer communities, and setting up solar microgrids.&nbsp; The company was one of ten winners, out of 2,500 applicants, of the $50,000 Keeling Curve Prize which honours high-impact <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-can-lead-in-zero-carbon">clean energy solutions</a>.&nbsp; The company sets up solar water pumps for farmers so that they can access water from boring wells year-round. It also set up solar systems that can power equipment needed during and after birthing such as baby warmers, incubators, sterilisers in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health">remote health posts</a>. &nbsp; “Industries generally have large, unused rooftop spaces ideal for solar systems that can help reduce <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-electricity-demand-soars">electricity bills</a>,” says Pradip Humagain at Gham Power but points out a flaw in national policy, which caps the capacity of a solar power plant for a particular industry at 1MW. “This limitation makes no sense, and removing it would actually help the NEA by making them better able to provide electricity to industry.”&nbsp; Nepal’s energy mix should be expanded to other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/right-climate-for-nepal-s-energy-transition">renewables</a> like solar, wind and even geothermal to reduce the risk of catastrophic damage to hydropower generation in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/danger-nepal-s-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up">future glacial floods</a>. Reverse metering would allow solar producers to sell electricity to the grid, and time-of-day tariff would balance load. “Our energy policy is heavily biased: 90% hydro, and 10% ‘other’,” says Gurung, “we should aim for at least 30% solar.” Net metering involves <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-roof-is-the-limit">solar rooftop systems </a>that are connected to the grid, which would allow people to ‘export’ surplus energy generated during the day. This would offset the price of electricity the household uses at other times of the day, and the grid would essentially be like a battery.&nbsp; But NEA is fixated on hydro and has opposed net metering for decades, seeing it as a threat. The government actually passed a net metering policy in 2018, but the NEA never properly adopted it.&nbsp; In fact, despite hardly any solar energy systems that allow net metering having been installed, the NEA changed it to a ‘net billing’ system that makes exported energy cheaper than energy used in the home instead of a 1:1 offset.&nbsp; Then the NEA quietly dropped all net metering in July 2022. This blindsided consumers and developers who had implemented such systems, the distrust scared away <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/can-nepal-be-the-powerhouse-of-asia?fbclid=IwAR15ylL8qfMfhWxHahQYOj1e1WQjS6N7Ljs42cR9UDSw0fGRndr-M7c6lf0">potential future investors</a>.&nbsp; The technology is affordable, but solar energy needs political will in Nepal. The policy should be to generate as much renewable energy as possible, instead of making solar and hydro compete. Even more efficient than solar energy is wind power. In terms of area needed, wind is even more cost-effective, and much easier to set up than hydro. India and China are already the biggest producers of wind turbine blades. Even though Nepal lacks coastlines where wind power is most efficient, there are places in the trans-Himalaya where it is viable. The only problem is the lack of roads, says Gurung. This article is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250307140328_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758.jpg" data-media-id="editor_22" data-image-id="20250307140328_30c3782f9c09219bf1c249b51483a3cfb7a53a06d117d2aebd23ca7080d12758" data-rendition-name="original" width="680" height="103" loading="lazy" alt="SDG logo"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Vishad Raj Onta

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Here comes the sun

The recent removal of Kulman Ghising a few months before his tenure heading the National Electricity Authority (NEA) ended made headlines. Hitendra Dev Shakya, whose previous tenure ended amid similar behind-the-scenes politics that <a href="https://en.setopati.com/political/157021">never saw a final court verdict</a>, was put back in charge.&nbsp;
For many, Ghising was the architect of the end of 18-hour-a-day power cuts till a decade ago. His abrupt removal sparked outrage across the public sphere, and the political spectrum.
Leadership at the NEA has never been just about performance, it has long been entangled in political proximity, not merit. The agency is more than a power utility, it is more about control of budgets, contracts, and narratives.
As long as the lights stay on, many Nepalis will willingly overlook the messy compromises that greases the system. Appointments, removals, court cases, and backroom political bargain are the norm. Sometimes like with Ghising, a figure emerges as a public hero, sometimes, they do not.
A decade after routine load-shedding ended, political leaders still scramble to claim credit, over what should fundamentally be just the day-to-day work. The sector is mired in controversies, from metering disputes to ad hoc political committees, tariff issues, to negotiating cross border power trade.&nbsp;
Even basic statistics like electrification rates are held hostage to executive narratives with no clear standards and compliance on what counts as real access. Nepal's power sector seems to be running without a referee.
There are three agencies involved: the <a href="https://moewri.gov.np/">Ministry of Energy</a>, the NEA, and the little-known <a href="https://erc.gov.np/">Electricity Regulatory Commission (ERC),</a> each with a distinct mandate, at least on paper.
In a well-regulated market, issues like metering disputes and executive appointments would barely register outside the industry. In Nepal, such decisions often spill into political crises and can shake the fate of governments. Yet, the ERC is rarely seen or heard, even when these issues strike at the heart of its regulatory mandate.
Blurred roles have left Nepal’s power sector in a state of chronic overlap. The ministry often interferes with operations, drawn by the quiet influence that comes with the turf: contracts, budgets, and visibility.&nbsp;
NEA straddles the line between implementer and influencer, while the regulator still seems hesitant to assert its space.
Created in 2019 after years of industry bargaining, the regulator’s job is to establish rules, resolve disputes, and bring predictability and fairness back to the system. And this critical role remains a blind spot in Nepal’s energy debate and power struggles.
Disputes that should fall under regulatory inquiry and consultation, from the Time-of-Day (ToD) meter disputes and industrial payment defaults, to the NEA’s role in cross border power trade negotiations have instead become political flashpoints.
Despite the politics, if a regulator cannot assert itself in matters squarely within its mandate like pricing, contracts, disputes, compliance, what exactly is it regulating?&nbsp;
We did not create this new regulator just to be another spectator. But that, for now, is all it seems determined to be.
The regulatory mess runs deeper into the way Nepal prices its electricity. By many measures, Nepal’s electricity sector has made real progress. The country now exports surplus power to India while still relying on imports during peak demand. In 2023/24, Nepal became a net electricity exporter for the first time, selling as much power as &nbsp;two and half months of domestic demand.&nbsp;
Every hydropower <a href="https://nea.org.np/admin/assets/uploads/PPA_Rates.pdf">project under 100 megawatts is paid the same flat rate</a>: Rs8.40 per kilowatt-hour in the dry season, Rs4.80 in the wet season. Hard or easy, near or remote, the price stays flat.&nbsp;
Whether a project is built right along the accessible roads of Trisuli corridor or in the remote gorges of the Karnali that demand new roads and transmission lines to &nbsp;generation sites, it is the same price.
The Chamelia Hydropower Project cost <a href="https://www.adb.org/sites/default/files/project-documents/41025-012-nep-tacr.pdf">NPR 56 crore per megawatt to build</a>. Chilime came in at about Rs140 million. In a functioning system, a regulator would benchmark these costs, scrutinise financial models, and adjust tariffs to reflect real-world differences. &nbsp;&nbsp;
To give the ERC some benefit of doubt: it is a young institution<s>.</s> But institutions do not mature by aging; they need to step up and take positions, enforce rules, intervene, and speak up when it’s easier to stay silent, whether the pressure comes from a utility boss or a political heavyweight, celebrity or not.&nbsp;
Nepal’s energy industry cannot afford a regulator that hides every time the stakes get high. That responsibility weighs even heavier today. Ram Prasad Dhital, the current Chair of the ERC, was not an outsider parachuted into the role. He served as one of the Commission’s founding cohort and has seen it through its formative years.&nbsp;
His second term cannot be for keeping the seat warm. But will the ERC act, or will it continue to choose the safer path of silence? As the ERC evolves, the challenge is not just about leadership. It must resist the prevailing tendency to solely rely on short-term contracts and familiar recycled bureaucratic networks.&nbsp;
Building a credible regulatory institution requires stability and technical depth, a professional core of energy experts, economists, engineers, financial analysts, and legal specialists who can audit costs, arbitrate disputes, and navigate the rapidly evolving regulatory terrains.&nbsp;
Tariffs must reflect real costs and real geographies. Export pricing must adapt to dynamic domestic and regional markets. Disputes must be settled through credible regulatory mechanisms rather than through endless political committees.
The real question now is not just what the ERC was created to do, but whether it has the will, the knowledge, and the courage to do it. &nbsp;And the longer it forgets that and drifts further to become another spectator, the deeper the price the industry will pay.
Bibek Raj Kandel works at the intersection of energy, climate, and political economy.&nbsp;

Nepal’s Power Struggles

‘One early morning, we heard the ambassador’s wife cry out, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” A disaster has befallen Nepal!” She had heard on the radio that a fire had consumed Singha Durbar." This is not about the arson attack on 9 September 2025, but the one on 8 July, 1973. It started in the South Wing of the then single-largest building in all of Nepal. It took two days to bring the blaze under control, requiring the use of explosives to demolish one wing to protect the imposing western facade. As Bhekh Bahadur Thapa recalls in the English translation of his memoir A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy, he was then on leave from the Nepal government serving with the IDRC in Ottawa.&nbsp; He had already served as Nepal’s Finance Secretary at age 25, went on to be Finance Minister and Governor of Nepal Rastra Bank. He was already younger than some of the GenZ ministers in Nepal’s present RSP government. Thapa, now 89, was at the launch of the book in February which was attended by former diplomats and bureaucrats. After speeches by panelists, there was a question from the audience about how Thapa had managed to be the diplomat he was, managing Nepal’s international relations on the world stage.&nbsp; Writer and journalist Akhilesh Upadhyay, who was moderating the panel, responded by going into the section of the book where we see Thapa as an ambassador to the US, playing tennis with White House officials, cultivating a network of contacts to project the identity and welfare of Nepal, and making it possible for a state visit by King Birendra to Ronald Reagan’s America. The book is full of anecdotes that suggest Thapa was a clever and strategic diplomat, always calm and unruffled, easily making friends in high places with his maturity and engaging sense of humour. Thapa’s memoir is heavy on details about Nepal’s administrative history during the years he was active in public service, serving as minister and ambassador under three kings: Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra, and alongside five prime ministers.&nbsp; Aside from an insider look on how certain treaties, development deals and research projects in Nepal came into fruition, Thapa goes into great detail about his personal and professional relationships with the kings, ministers, ambassadors, foreign leaders and politicians.&nbsp; As a reader, one is struck by the level of detail around the events that unfolded in Nepal over the years during Thapa’s tenure. Was Thapa recording a journal over the years of the events and the conversations that transpired, or were they committed to his phenomenal memory? Either way, the reader gets a glimpse of Nepal’s recent history from the early days of the Panchayat, through the People’s Movement and the democracy period, the Maoist insurgency, Royal Palace massacre of 2001, and Gyanendra’s coup of 2005.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1584" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How to win friends and influence nations NT"> </figure>  Not enough is said about the political parties of the time whose presence led to the way Nepal’s multiparty democracy came to be shaped. The book keeps its focus on the administration and the key figures around it, mostly those in the Panchayat era. Towards the second half of the book, we do start to hear about political parties, but not in great depth. Another figure whose presence in the book is conspicuously less prominent is that of his wife, Rita Thapa — the person who seems to have rescued him every time financial quandary or family care became a challenge. Yet, we do not see her as a full person. Perhaps because of the personal tragedies in his life, the children are also barely mentioned.&nbsp; The book is therefore less personal and more technical. Throughout, we learn about Thapa’s thinking as he navigated the world of diplomacy to win him the trust of those who mattered. There are tips here for a new generation of Nepali officials and diplomats about how much commitment and focus is needed to be good at one’s job and serve the national interest. This book adds to tomes that have been written on Nepal’s fragile relationship with India. ‘India has always wished for Nepal to remain dependent on it,’ writes Thapa, who served as Nepal’s ambassador to India and later in the Eminent Persons Group &nbsp;on Indo-Nepal relations that has been allowed to languish. The book has several insights into the Indo-Nepal trysts with diplomacy and agency.&nbsp; China’s role is also recorded, viewed through conversations during a visit to Beijing, but all that was before Nepal’s neighbour to the north emerged as a world economic and military power. The book also has such sudden instances of quirkiness and humour. For instance, we see a young Thapa in America explaining to a government official why he would like to return to Nepal instead of settling down in the US. “Because, Nepal is beautiful,” he said. The text is immaculate and does not read much like a translation, credit for which clearly goes to the team that put the edition together: translator Prawin Adhikari, &nbsp;Anagha Neelakanthan and Bhekh Thapa’s daughter, Manjushree. As Nepal enters a new era of governance and diplomacy, A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy should be essential reading for students of political science, economics and foreign affairs who can gain a fresh perspective on the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; There are dozens of forgotten state secrets recorded in the book, but the reader must also remember this is a story told from one person’s perspective and there may be others.&nbsp; So, what really made Thapa the diplomat he was? I met him in 2004 at the Kantipur TV studio when he was serving as king Gyanendra’s foreign minister. He was there for a studio interview, and I was just done with my English newscast.&nbsp; He surprised me at the door: “Pratibha! I’ve been reading your articles in The Kathmandu Post. You must keep writing.” I thanked him, glad to have been noticed for my work by a stranger. That was perhaps one of the things that set Thapa apart — he excelled at staying close to those in power, while also noticing those who were not.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

How to win friends and influence nations

This is the 91st 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. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

This is the 90th 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. The Musahar community lives in the Nepal Tarai and India, they have been historically excluded and are at the bottom of the economic and caste ladder. Many families still work as sharecroppers for landlords, but overseas migration is changing their lives as this conversation between Abhinash Sada and Lalit Majhi shows. Both were home for a vacation from work in Malaysia which coincided with the election. They are hopeful that the new RSP government will improve things.&nbsp; Abhinash: I was born into such poverty that we worried about the next meal. My family used to work near the river, mining sand and gravel. They were paid in rice. Sometimes we children went to the field to help with work, not for money but for the roti we got for lunch. I was eight when I was sent to school, and I still remember the first day. Lalit: We were classmates. Abhinash already knew how to recite the Nepali alphabet, but did not know how to read the letters. Meanwhile, I knew how to write s v u but did not know what those letters stood for. I just liked using a stick to scribble the alphabets in the sand while tending to the water buffalos. We finally learnt the alphabets properly in school. We used to skip school a lot but became interested after they offered sports like volleyball, and they also let us use a computer once every week. We started focusing on our studies, and Abinash used to stay at my my house so we could start studying together at 4AM because the teacher said our minds were freshest in the morning.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: I used to sleep over at Lalit’s house so we could get up and study together early in the morning before school. We enjoyed studying so much we even asked the teacher for more homework. Sometimes, we used to skip class to do some work to earn some money so we could afford stationery or uniforms. Lalit ranked better than me in class.&nbsp; Lalit: My best memories of childhood was us swimming in the river after the rains when water levels were high. My mother thought we would get sick, but we did not listen. When we finally came home in the evenings, she would be fuming. My father worked in Punjab as a contractor and took fellow villagers there to work.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260411040432_0f8b3936c1edef4ff2e3682a66131278bf822022b1e8ae3aca1418e0fa232136" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash with his family.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: My father went to Saudi Arabia to support the family. When he came home for a break, he enrolled me in a private school so my English would improve and private schools were also stricter. I was in Grade 5 in the government school, but the private school put me in kindergarten. It felt strange because everyone else was much younger. After three years, I rejoined Grade 6 in the government school but Lalit had already moved on to Grade 8. We no longer studied together. Lalit: I did not pass my SLC. Instead of retaking the exam, I went to Chennai and got a dishwashing job although I was promised waiter. I came back after a month and started getting my paperwork done for Qatar. I borrowed Rs100,000 from a villager at 36% interest. Even so, in three years there I helped my family repay loans and bail out my eldest brother who had been cheated in Malaysia. All my savings in Qatar and what my middle brother earned in Malaysia went to rescue our oldest brother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260411040436_716000dceca4fbf31b9364fa712e30cbdca83783d59c8e10b47f6ae3e39b8825" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Lalit with his mother.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: We Musahars can work hard. Our forebears worked from childhood tilling the fields of land owners whose children went to school. Saying no was not an option. Our fathers’ generation prioritised education because they did not want us to be trapped in servitude. I studied until Grade 12 but failed my exam. I worked in a sweet factory in Bangalore to support my parents. I returned after a year, and did odd jobs in a brick factory and sometimes as a day labourer with my father. I did not go abroad because I did not have money and people were not willing to lend to us. It was only when I got a free recruitment job in Malaysia that I decided to migrate.&nbsp; Lalit: I came back from Qatar, got married and remigrated to Malaysia with Abinash. It has been 2.5 years and we work in the same factory and share a dorm room just as we did as kids. With the money we earned, we have bought land back in our village. We are returning to Malaysia after our vacation here. My wife put mehendi in my palms, and told me that I should remember her whenever I see it. I also gave her a silver chain I was wearing as memento. My wife said the mehendi will last about a month and will fade away, that is the most difficult part of being overseas — but after a few weeks the working life takes over and we get occupied with duty.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260411040436_431dc4b60a1a49977f5fea69b19aaf66b172e3b606573dd9673aa32c9eb9e2b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1787" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash's family seeing him off in 2023.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260411040436_5a4faef596e76365fce3181fe8f3a215306755287cbe353c433e34758df0aaec" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> <figcaption>Abhinash and Lalit getting welcomed by family after their return.</figcaption> </figure>  Abhinash: The election coincided with my vacation and I voted for the RSP in both ballots. They have already started building a road in our area, so there is hope. People in other parties were angry, but I told them my one vote would not have made a difference, they would have still lost. You can feel new energy in the village now, maybe things will change. We Musahars have always been discriminated against, even though our situation has improved. At least we do not have to worry about food anymore. It is not just my father who is the breadwinner. Now, I am also earning to support the family.&nbsp; Lalit: The whole point about migrating is to take care of my parents and make sure they are happy. They are my role models, and struggled all their lives for us. They invested in our studies so we would not have to live through what they did. They are happy that we are earning and supporting them. We bought land with the money saved in Malaysia. Now, as we go back, the next goal is to build a house. Then we will think about our future. When Abhinash and I were children, we thought we would be ठुलो मान्छे one day. I looked up to my teacher and wanted to be like him. But now that I am grown up, I do not have anyone I look up to. I just make my goals and achieve them.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260411040436_83af55ced9108a0604495df2f808e497f6ecb73d1772c30af72cef94a4f21915" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="DD 90"> </figure>  Abhinash: We have our whole lives ahead of us, and it is our turn to support our parents. What is the point of anything if our family is not happy? I do not want my parents to have to depend on others for money. We Musahars have been historically mistreated. We are known to be too trusting, and we do as we are told. We grew up believing that we were underdogs because of our caste. People still treat us as untouchable, although less than before. We were invited to parties but made to sit separately; at friends’ houses, we were asked to remain outside. We accepted all this because that is way it always was. Even when it made us feel bad. My younger brother stopped going to parties altogether because he did not like that discriminatory treatment. The new generation is not like that thankfully.&nbsp; Lalit: I once ran away from a feast because the Musahar invitees had to eat last. High caste or low caste, we all have the same red blood. The young ones thankfully are not like that. We were invited to a wedding recently during this vacation from Malaysia, and all of us young boys sat and ate together. But if the elders had been around they would have asked Abhinash and me to sit separately from the others.&nbsp;

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