<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b24b0ad905ca02f027jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b54b0ad905ca02f028jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b74b0ad905ca02f029jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0ba4b0ad905ca02f02ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bd4b0ad905ca02f02bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bf4b0ad905ca02f02cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

Pratibha Tuladhar

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cc9c7e80680e0878dejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cf9c7e80680e0878dfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d29c7e80680e0878e0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d59c7e80680e0878e1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d79c7e80680e0878e2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9da9c7e80680e0878e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

Sahina Shrestha, Digital Products Strategist<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77e29c7e80680e064662jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2208" height="1562"/>As the results of the<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mobile-nepal-is-hooked-on-youtube/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> Sharecast Initiative Nepal Survey 2020</a> featured in this issue show, Nepal is going digital in a big way. There is a dramatic increase in ownership of mobile devices, a vast amount of video content is being uploaded on YouTube and Facebook, and internet use is set to grow further with demand for smartphones and data plans.Following this trend, Nepal’s media companies are also opening up to the use of digital tools in storytelling. There has been an explosion of news and entertainment portals and YouTube channels. It is fair to say that the Nepali Times was one of the pioneers of online journalism in Nepal. It was ahead of the pack in 2000 when it started a digital edition even before making a splash with its first print copy. Over the years, even as the hardcopy version took precedence, we made sure to experiment with data visualisation, audio-visual content and interactive graphics. After the 2015 earthquake, Nepali Times adopted a digital-first policy, uploading content online before a version appeared on Friday in print. Today, as more of our audience meet us online, we are rethinking not only our product but also our business model. Journalism worldwide is increasingly dependent on and being influenced by the likes of Facebook, Google and Twitter. These are no longer ‘just platforms’ for our content. On the one hand we compete with them for audience and ad revenue, and on the other we rely on them for technologies and dissemination.With shrinking budgets and revenue pressures, ‘legacy’ newsrooms like that of Nepali Times are being forced to think innovatively with the resources we have. As a traditional news organisation seeking innovation, growth opportunities and sustainability, we will continue to explore new platforms to distribute content and grow audiences. We will continue to work around the algorithms and experiment with social- and mobile-optimised formats that are shareable and quick to ingest.I am glad to be back at Nepali Times in this new position just as the paper marks its millennial milestone and am looking forward to streamlining a new media strategy for the future.Sonia Awale, Associate Editor<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77e69c7e80680e064663jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2032" height="1480">Welcome to this 1000th print edition of the Nepali Times weekly that also celebrates the 8 March International Women’s Day. It has been a two-decade long journey, during which my predecessors who have transitioned through this newsroom have witnessed history first-hand: the war, the 2001 palace massacre, the royal-military coup of 2005, restoration of democracy, a prolonged political transition, the earthquake, the Blockade and finally federal elections in 2017.The earthquake struck on my first week as an intern at the Nepali Times five years ago. Reporting on the aftermath of the disaster was like being thrown off the deep end. In 2017, after completing my master’s in digital journalism, I returned to the paper with a focus on covering health, environment and the climate crisis.Unlike other newsrooms, the Nepali Times does not have much hierarchy, and we are not rigid about beats. I was involved in the team that redesigned the online edition of the Nepali Times, which has seen a three-fold increase in reader numbers in the last three years. We have tried to bring the newsroom and the audience closer, refined our multimedia content and come up with original, in-depth coverage of a Nepal outside Kathmandu.    For the past two decades, the Nepali Times newsroom has pursued context and process, rather than simply covering events. This gives the hard copy edition a longer shelf-life, and the archives impart research value to Nepal-related topics that will be useful into the future.Every week,<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> www.nepalitimes.com</a> has more than 100,000 unique visitors, most of whom have bookmarked the homepage and begin browsing there, instead of clicking on story links on social media. The average reader spends five minutes per page, which is remarkable in an age of short attention spans.  Nearly half of the Nepali Times’ readership online is women, mostly in the 25-34 age group. Contrary to common perception, more than 80% of readers are Nepali, and 35% reside in Nepal. Most diaspora readers work and study in the United States, India, the UK, Australia and the Gulf, in that order.Thank you, readers for being with us the past 1,000 times. We in the Nepali Times  newsroom look forward to the next 20 years of making sense of the three-pronged crises of democracy, media and climate that Nepal and the world face today – and trying to find solutions.Alisha Sijapati, CorrespondentStarting when I was six years old, my grandmother had me read the headlines from the Nepali newspapers out loud to her every morning. She enjoyed hearing me read the news and as I became a better reader, I read whole articles to her. My interest in journalism developed from this morning practice that we still share.My career as a journalist started with internships first at The Himalayan Times and then at Himal Southasian. The journey of a trainee journalist is not always rosy, but these experiences taught me a lot. Later, as a full-time reporter at The Kathmandu Post, I was on the culture beat, but also had the opportunity to do business reporting and some investigative stories.Leaving a large daily for the smaller newsroom of the Nepali Times has been a big change for me. This place is a breath of fresh air. There is a calmness here even during frantic deadline pressure, and as media becomes faster paced the way our newsroom operates has lessons for everyone.In preparation for this 1000th issue of the Nepali Times, my colleagues and I flipped through the archives of the paper, and I got a glimpse of its underlying philosophy of 'solution journalism'.This means not limiting ourselves to a description of the problem, but looking beyond the current difficulty and searching for answers. It may take the form of analysis or profiles of people who have overcome obstacles despite tremendous odds. The Nepali Times has consistently and doggedly pursued issues that matter, always holding out for a better future and suggesting how we might get there.After seven years in journalism, there are some important understandings that I take with me from one newsroom to another. I believe that we journalists work for our readers and viewers and that we must be accountable to and sensitive towards those we write about even as we strive to uncover wrongdoings through honest and unbiased reporting.Monika Deupala, Photojournalist<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77e99c7e80680e064664jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1985" height="1330">Two years ago, during my internship at the Nepali Times, my editor told me: “You have the eye to see things others don’t.” That was the first time anyone had recognised my passion for photography.Soon, I was a Nepali Times staffer, but while shooting events I saw how few of us women were out there taking pictures. This is a problem. In a competitive field, the gender gap manifests in people not taking women as seriously. I am still not very confident in crowds.There are advantages, too: being women gives us access that many male colleagues would find difficult. But it will take time to make people understand that female photographers are good on their own merit, and not because of their gender.Back in high school, I was part of a class group that monitored the daily newspapers. We had to arrange them in rows before morning assembly. I was not much of a reader, but was intrigued by the photographs. I told my teacher I wanted to be a photojournalist, and he frowned, asking if I thought it was a profession for a woman. But I pursued my goal. I took a media course in college, bought my first DSLR, and honed my camera skills during class assignments.The last two years at the Nepali Times have been a journey of self-exploration for me. I understand my abilities now beyond limitations, and have more confidence travelling alone to new places and talking to strangers I am photographing. This paper has shown me what true professionalism is.Sanghamitra Subba, Reporter<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77ec9c7e80680e064665jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2376" height="1493">Fresh into my first job, I entered the welcoming, sunny and dog-filled newsroom of the Nepali Times. I came in as an intern, bright-eyed and ready to learn from the editors and reporters whose work I had admired as a student rifling through the colourful newspaper every Friday in the library.Into my first week, I was invited to join a journalism dialogue between graduate students from India, Pakistan and Nepal. Those three days provided a crash-course in crossborder journalism, and fired my interest in reporting. This was the first of many amazing opportunities that I have had working at Nepali Times.With the freedom to pursue the topics that I wanted to and the generous encouragement of newsroom colleagues, I covered everything from community homestays in Panauti to multiethnic marriages. At every step, I received the generous guidance of seniors, who taught me everything they knew about being an effective interviewer, editing videos and most importantly, maintaining composure during even the most challenging assignments.This women-dominated newsroom has been both a source of inspiration and a reliable support system. While my peers struggle to find their footing in other jobs, I have a positive work environment that has helped me grow as a multimedia reporter, and as a woman finding my way in the world.

Newswomen

While the streets of Kathmandu were erupting violent GenZ protests that brought down the government, Nepal’s athletes were achieving different kinds of breakthroughs on Spain’s mountain trails and in the cricket qualifiers in the UAE.&nbsp; On 27 September, two weeks after the uprising back home, Nepal's cricket team stunned the sporting world with their first-ever victory against a full member nation — defeating two-time World Cup champions West Indies by 19 runs, then crushing them by 90 runs two days later to seal a historic 2-0 series victory. On that very day, 5,000km away in the Spanish Pyrenees Sunmaya Budha stood on a podium alongside American and European champions, clutching a silver medal from the 3rd World Mountain and Trail Running Championships. No Asian athlete had ever finished this high in the Long Trail competition at the World Championships. While youth back home showed they would not tolerate injustice and could carve their own future, young Nepalis were securing it on the global sports stage even in moments of national crisis.&nbsp; The Long Trail event at the 2025 World Championships was designed to break even the strongest athletes. Stretching 82km through the Spanish Pyrenees, the course features an unrelenting 5,413m of elevation gain and descent.&nbsp; Athletes faced everything from steep scree slopes to narrow ridge lines, from boulder fields requiring scrambling to precipitous descents demanding total concentration. One misstep could mean injury, one lapse in focus could cost precious minutes.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_81152b4754331c4858ed2d0d28204e6a92559faf089fea9ebc84156766ff228a.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101909108_81152b4754331c4858ed2d0d28204e6a92559faf089fea9ebc84156766ff228a" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="731" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>The Nepal team at the World Championships 2025 with the final four: Sangge Sherpa, Sunmaya Budha, Suman Kulung, Man Kumar Roka Magar. Photo: PREETI KHATTRI</figcaption> </figure>  WOMEN'S COMPETITION Katie Schide (USA) - Winner • Time: 9:57:59 • Average pace: 7:18 per km&nbsp; &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sunmaya.budha.942">Sunmaya Budha </a>(Nepal) - Silver Medal • Time: 10:23:03 • Gap behind winner: 25 minutes and 4 seconds • Average pace: 7:36 per km Most recreational trail runners need 18-24 hours to complete this course, if they can finish it at all. Budha's pace means she was running at a speed that most casual runners could not maintain on a flat course, let alone while constantly climbing and descending mountains. MEN'S COMPETITION Jim Walmsley (USA) - Winner • Time: 8:35:11 • Average pace: 6:17 per kilometer (10:07 per mile) &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/runnersumankulung">Suman Kulung (Nepal)</a> - 32nd Place • Time: 10:06:25 • Average pace: 7:24 per km • Finished 1 hour 31 minutes behind the winner • Best performance by an Asian male athlete &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rokamagarmankumar764">Man Kumar Roka Magar (Nepal)</a> - 37th Place • Time: 10:10:53 • Average pace: 7:27 per km • Finished just 4.5 minutes behind Kulung <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Yetimannnnn">Sangge Sherpa (Nepal)</a> - 116th Place • Time: 12:33:09 • Average pace: 9:11 per km  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_2255845b43e68b14d3b111099124f9c98898bbe9016299b9af278aca8b4377f7.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025101909108_2255845b43e68b14d3b111099124f9c98898bbe9016299b9af278aca8b4377f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="904" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Sangge Sherpa organising himself post gear check in Can-Franc.</figcaption> </figure>  The men's winner averaged about 6:17/km on a course where elite mountain runners were struggling. Kulung and Roka Magar maintained a 7:24-7:27/km pace—faster than many recreational runners' easy flat road pace. They were faster than dozens of European athletes who train in the Alps. Even Sherpa's 9:11/km average pace over 12+ hours represents an extraordinary feat of endurance, maintaining forward progress on some of the most challenging mountain terrain in competitive trail running. “What set Budha apart was her exceptional descending ability. She recorded the fastest downhill speed among all women in the competition—a skill honed through years of training on Nepal’s steep mountain trails,” said her team director Ryan S Blair.&nbsp; Sunmaya Budha, ranked world 8th for 100km category events and 17th in the world by the International Trail Running Association (ITRA), entered the race having recently recovered from injuries to both legs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_38d8bee04beaa6443480ecf4765e6b34f91d2d105128f292f73702072a820d25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025101909108_38d8bee04beaa6443480ecf4765e6b34f91d2d105128f292f73702072a820d25" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Sunmaya storming in 2nd position. Photo: WMTRC2025 CANFRAC </figcaption> </figure>  While American Katie Schide dominated from the front, Budha found herself in an intense battle for second place with Italy's Fabiola Conti, a specialised skyrace and mountain marathon runner. The two runners remained locked together through much of the course, running side-by-side at key checkpoints and pushing each other through the mountain wilderness. In ultra-trail racing, where climbs are often win by fractions of minutes, the ability to descend fearlessly and efficiently can make the difference between podium positions. Budha's technical prowess on the descents gave her a advantage over her European competitors. The decisive moment came in the final 20km. At the 65km mark, Budha held a 90-second lead over Conti. By 71.5km she had extended her advantage to eight minutes — a commanding gap she maintained to the finish. In a powerful display of national pride, she approached the finish wrapped in the Nepali flag, showing the world what Himalayan athletes can achieve on the global stage. Said Preeti Khattri, team lead for Nepal: "Standing right beside the USA and European peer. Proud. No Asian athletes have ever made it this far.” MEN, TOO While Budha captured headlines with her silver medal, the performances of Suman Kulung and Man Kumar Roka Magar were equally significant. Both athletes topped Asian athletes and numerous European competitors. Suman Kulung delivered a performance that demonstrated extraordinary mental toughness and racing intelligence. What makes his 32nd place finish even more impressive is that 1.5km he encountered a severe bottleneck on narrow technical trails.&nbsp; This critical delay pushed him back to around 92nd position—a devastating setback in a world championship race where every second counts. Many athletes would have been demoralised by such an early disaster.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_e2f358723ea8abaa262e749a4c6afb0a179cf9f3e0bb4eab1d973e25b9b00f09.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025101909108_e2f358723ea8abaa262e749a4c6afb0a179cf9f3e0bb4eab1d973e25b9b00f09" data-rendition-name="original" width="668" height="445" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Suman Kulung coming through 65km Assisted Checkpoint. Photo: DR SIGRID FOUNDATION</figcaption> </figure>  But Kulung showed why he is Nepal's top-ranked trail runner: he launched a spectacular comeback. By the 30km mark, he had charged through the field to reach approximately 20th position — recovering over 70 places in less than 30km.&nbsp; His final time of 10:06:25 placed him ahead of runners from traditional mountain running powers including Switzerland, Austria, and Germany, and was the highest-finishing Asian male athlete in the competition.

Nepali runners score breakthroughs

In 2004, Poet Durga Lal Shrestha asked me to translate 223 little poems from Newa into English. They were each written as sestet-- terse in their form but heavy in imagery and sentiment. The novice translator in me struggled to find the best way to convey his poetry in English-- but the process became a tour as I discovered my mother tongue anew. The highlight, however, was Shrestha’s handwriting. His calligraphy is immaculate. He had given me photocopies from the notebook he had written the poems in and each page looked as though they were freshly out of the press. The letters bore a consistency, unswayed by the emotions of his poetry. Sometimes, I would just stare at the handwriting in admiration.&nbsp; Someone else had been similarly besotted by his writing: “I met him 25 years ago in the UK when he was the chief guest at a Mha Puja event organised by Pasa Pucha,” recollects Ojesh Singh, writer and engineer. “We were roommates. I noticed he couldn’t stop writing.”&nbsp; Shrestha, an octogenarian now, was a teacher at Kanya Mandir School for many years, where his writing was admired by colleagues and students. Known as Janakavi or People’s Poet, a title bestowed on him by the Nepal Bhasha Parishad, Shrestha is also the recipient of the Jagadamba Shree Puraskar for his contribution to literature.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071052_b109f2ee6dbac911fb8002e8e8bb33a50a8f755d26662f333535d32c8573e782.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251021071052_b109f2ee6dbac911fb8002e8e8bb33a50a8f755d26662f333535d32c8573e782" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> <figcaption>From left to right: Suman Shrestha, Ananda Kumar Maharjan, Durga Lal Shrestha, Ojesh Singh, and Arbindra Man Singh. Photo: SUCHITA SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  “He would write on anything he could lay his hands on. On tissue paper, envelopes, cigarette boxes. It struck me how neat and tidy his writing was,” says Singh. “The structure and size were perfectly in sync-- and as an aspiring graphic designer then, I fell in love with his writing. Later, whenever I read his books, I thought it would be nice to read them in his writing.” After sitting with the notion of turning Shrestha’s writing into a digital font for years, in 2024, he reached out to a small group of people who he thought might be allies.&nbsp; “It was during Ojesh Ji’s book launch that we met and talked about the possibility of turning Durga Lal Shrestha’s writing into font,” recalls Ananda Kumar Maharjan, who has designed the Durga Lal Shrestha font and is affiliated with Callijatra, an organisation promoting Newa calligraphy.&nbsp; For Singh, the desire to immortalise the poet's handwriting wasn’t only coming from personal admiration, it was also about preserving the writing of a language and literature leader and activist. He offered to fund the font project, which meant paying for Maharjan’s time and dedication. He also drew into the conversation Shrestha’s son Suman, who has been an integral part of the process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071056_372dc34ac3ce3b70445128131a11ade8f321756c6cc7615825c4451e85f56374.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251021071056_372dc34ac3ce3b70445128131a11ade8f321756c6cc7615825c4451e85f56374" data-rendition-name="original" width="616" height="728" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  The others involved in the process were journalist Arbindra Man Singh, who had been scanning Shrestha’s writing for the book Hastakshar, a collection of poems printed in the author’s handwriting. Also an enthusiast of converting Shrestha’s writing to a font, Singh provided help in bringing together the scans, based on which Maharjan picked the best letter for each alphabet to create a complete set.&nbsp; “Doing this was different from other font developments I have done in the past,” explains Maharjan, who has also digitised his own handwriting into a font, called Anand. “To create Durga Lal Shrestha’s writing as font, I had to analyse his writing archive and pick the best.”&nbsp; He adds: “There was a book published in his writing, so there were scans and digital archiving done by Arbindra Ji, which became the foundation for my work.” He had to find a prototype for each alphabet based on the scans. He traced the letters on Illustrator and copied them to a MAC software called Glyphs where he had to enter each letter, using a traditional Devanagari keyboard instead of Unicode.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025102108100_2f6b8c0f3cf91682707ac356e11ad50b342a4198f56490ab68d041e875b15edb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025102108100_2f6b8c0f3cf91682707ac356e11ad50b342a4198f56490ab68d041e875b15edb" data-rendition-name="original" width="818" height="766" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  “I had to be very careful to keep it accurate. Conjunctions need attention,” Maharjan says. “There are half letters, saint letters, ligatures and open type features to pay attention to, this is more advanced than the fonts I’ve created in the past.” &nbsp; Maharjan has designed this font in three different variations that users can play with. “Writing changes with age. While young, people write better, but with age, it starts to change. Since Durga Lal Shrestha hasn’t been very well lately, his hand shakes when he writes. So, we had to pick the best of his writing from the records,” he adds. “People also tend to write in different styles depending on their mood so we took the best four of every letter and traced and picked one.”&nbsp; Handwriting is deeply intimate and in this day and age of tech, becoming lost.&nbsp; What bothers me about the day of phones is that I no longer know what the writing of those close to me look like. I no longer know how you press the pen between our fingers or how you tilt it against the paper or how you pause to write periods or how the nib makes a perfect tiny orb before you drag it just so, to turn it into a comma. The familiarity of the nuances of someone’s writing is lost on us.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071056_2c83ab2c3ed4cfa42e6a6a637d88fd879218fb5b7391e086ab5db1a8ec173654.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251021071056_2c83ab2c3ed4cfa42e6a6a637d88fd879218fb5b7391e086ab5db1a8ec173654" data-rendition-name="original" width="992" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  Ojesh Singh agrees with me. He says it’s important to keep handwriting alive as people become more and more tech-dependent. People are likely to interact even less with letters on paper, but at least we can have fonts, he says.&nbsp; A set of six books by poet Durga Lal Shrestha is set to be launched on 31October. One of them, entitled, Kawa, is typeset in the Durga Lal Shrestha Font. The font will be made available to the general public after the books have been released. In July, I had visited Shrestha, who I also call Durga Lal Taaba, as many Newa people in my generation do. Seated in the quiet of his home, he conversed about literature and language with my father and my uncle. Coming out of Taaba, Newa, which has a utilitarian function for me to communicate with my parents, sounded more like a lyric.&nbsp; I asked him what he thinks about his handwriting being archived as a font. He replied: “This body is going to be gone eventually, so I thought maybe my handwriting could live on.” Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people in Pratibha’s life.

Digitising the savant calligrapher

The winter air pollution season started early this year with emissions, Diwali firecrackers and crop residue burning making the air unbreathable across north India. Much of the pollution was transboundary, with prevailing winds carrying the suspended particulates from Pakistan, across India to Nepal and beyond. All this pollution and domestic emissions killed 41,300 in Nepal in 2023, and 85% of all deaths were because of noncommunicable diseases such as heart and lung disease, lung cancer, diabetes, and dementia, according to the State of Global Air (SoGA) 2025 report released Thursday. With the onset of winter, Kathmandu Valley’s own emissions are trapped in a surface inversion layer and as in previous years will have some of the worst air quality in the world.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131016_7c42a4e8b0dce01dfeeaaf89dbb10dbfa036b41163f3ebada88c7ce17dbded49.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251023131016_7c42a4e8b0dce01dfeeaaf89dbb10dbfa036b41163f3ebada88c7ce17dbded49" data-rendition-name="original" width="921" height="850" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  The SoGa report says air pollution has now become the leading risk factor for deaths in Nepal, ahead of tobacco and high blood pressure. Interestingly, while the health impacts due to environmental risk factors such as unsafe water and sanitation have reduced significantly since 2000, the opposite is true for ambient PM2.5 (particles smaller than 2.5 microns). Globally, 7.9 million deaths were attributable to air pollution– about 1 in 8 deaths – in 2023. Of this total, 4.9 million deaths were attributable to PM2.5 exposure, 2.8 million were from household air pollution, and 470,000 were from ozone. Similarly, dementia attributable to air pollution resulted in 626,000 deaths and 40 million healthy years of life lost. And 95% of air pollution attributable deaths in adults over the age of 60 are due to noncommunicable diseases. The burden of noncommunicable diseases in relation to air pollution is rising worldwide and in Nepal. The SoGA report shows that nearly nine of ten global air pollution deaths are from chronic ailments, and half of all respiratory disease deaths are attributable to air pollution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131020_8577f464b4a73007de5dd018b8ac91dae3a9c732dbb81a44b6aa5a0ced7df3df.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251023131020_8577f464b4a73007de5dd018b8ac91dae3a9c732dbb81a44b6aa5a0ced7df3df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  In Nepal, air pollution is responsible for three out of four COPD deaths, one out of three heart deaths and one out of five diabetes deaths. More than one third of lower respiratory infection deaths were due to air pollution. “The data presented in the State of Global Air report highlight the significant impacts of poor air quality on the health and well-being of billions of people around the world, especially those living in Asia and Africa,” says Pallavi Pant of the Boston-based Health Effects Institute (HEI) that released the report in collaboration with the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation and the NCD Alliance. She adds: “Growing momentum on air quality management across those hard-hit locations, including expansion of air quality monitoring, adoption of air quality regulations, and sector-specific interventions are yielding improvements for those most impacted.” Low- and middle-income countries stand to gain most by reducing air pollution, with particularly strong impacts on children, older populations, and people with pre-existing health conditions. Indeed, of the 41,300 air pollution deaths in 2023 in Nepal, 31,600 were in adults over the age of 60 years and 3,500 in children below five years. Death rate for air pollution in Nepal, which is 178 per 100,000, is more than 10 times higher than high-income countries, which is at 17 per 100,000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131020_604e852aed4ffde0dc7d1df72fcd3e73d904136dfb1bb2407e53b7445f3ef72c.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251023131020_604e852aed4ffde0dc7d1df72fcd3e73d904136dfb1bb2407e53b7445f3ef72c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1078" height="423" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  “Win-win solutions for air pollution and NCDs exist, with added benefits for climate, physical activity, nutrition, and many other global development priorities,” says Alison Cox, Policy and Advocacy Director at the Geneva-based NCD Alliance. “These policies are effective and deliver a strong return on investment - for the sake of our people and the planet we need to implement them faster.” Fine particle pollution (ambient PM2.5) is the largest driver of air pollution’s burden of disease worldwide as kit attributed to 4.9 million deaths and 124 million healthy years of life lost in 2023. Vehicles, power plants, factories, and homes, as well as agricultural and industrial activities, waste burning and wildfires are some of the biggest sources of pollutants. South Asia is among the regions of the world with the highest exposures to ambient PM2.5 , while more than 36% of people around the world live in areas where PM2.5 levels do not meet even the least stringent interim target. As per the report, 78% of Nepal’s 30 million population lives in areas where annual PM2.5 exposure exceeds the least stringent WHO Air Quality Interim Target of 35 µg/m3. Meanwhile, exposure to household air pollution due to the use of solid fuels for cooking remains an important driver for the disease burden in the country. “Ongoing efforts to meet global development goals are not achievable without directly addressing air pollution,” says Maria Neira, Commissioner of Our Common Air. “Countries and cities must focus their efforts toward reducing air pollution emissions, including household air pollution, which has particularly severe impacts on young children and older people across Asia and Africa.”

newsroom

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

Newswomen

Nepali runners score breakthroughs

Digitising the savant calligrapher

Air pollution killing season starts early

Nepal needs to enact and enforce animal law