<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05ed9c7e80680e0a5f35jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1765" height="1000"/><figcaption>Fireflies in bushes along Phewa Lake at a resort that is promoting firefly tourism. Photos: KRISHNA MANI BARAL</figcaption></figure>Visitors from all over the world are attracted to Pokhara for its stunning mountain views and its relaxed lakeside life. But very few know about Pokhara’s vibrant nightlife: its <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/night-of-the-firefly/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/night-of-the-firefly/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625458802772000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGypwhvNzYZ3CXYzoNflxjC6Cs8Jg">fireflies.</a>However, this July 4 on International Firefly Day just like last year, there will not be many to venture out beyond the city lights to admire the lakeside come alive with these glowing insects.“Pokhara could benefit from promoting firefly tourism just like in Japan, Taiwan and Malaysia have,” says conservationist Hum Gurung, who is now promoting firefly tourism in Malaysia as Regional Project Manager with Birdlife International Asia.A native of Sikles, Gurung grew up watching fireflies on the shores of Pokhara’s lakes as well as along streams in the mountains, and says some of the wetland habitats that fireflies prefer to congregate in should be protected.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05f09c7e80680e0a5f36jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1609" height="1000"><figcaption>Fireflies compete with light pollution from the tourist city's lake front.</figcaption></figure>In Japan, visitors actually have to buy tickets to enter firefly sanctuaries during the summer <a href="https://www.hisgo.com/us/destination-japan/blog/top_5_spots_in_japan_to_see_the_summer_fireflies.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hisgo.com/us/destination-japan/blog/top_5_spots_in_japan_to_see_the_summer_fireflies.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625458802773000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFnkRR1TvSt547SLYvqHKc5bJvLdg">Hotaru festival</a>. Gurung sees no reason why Pokhara cannot do the same.“Why should mountains be our only attraction?” he asks.Indeed, the Back To Nature Resort on the western edge of Phewa Lake is already doing just that. One humid monsoon night this week, the blinking lights of hundreds of fireflies made the forest glow, while the lucky few who had heard of the place gasped with awe.“We have tried not to publicise this too much, we want to practice sustainable eco-tourism,” says the resort’s Dambar Pun. “In fact, we now have domestic tourists who come here from all over Nepal, and even extend their stay. They cannot get enough of the fireflies.”The firefly’s blinking glow is a mechanism for mating and scaring off predators, and only happens a few weeks in a year in June-July. It therefore can be a part of a package of attractions for Pokhara visitors during the monsoon, Pun says.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05f39c7e80680e0a5f37jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1568" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2020/02/03/world/fireflies-extinction-risk-scn/index.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://edition.cnn.com/2020/02/03/world/fireflies-extinction-risk-scn/index.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625458802773000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH2HlYNBoGHEyWSICYgypPFoH-wNQ">Fireflies are actually beetles</a> from the family Lampyridae and have been in existence since the age of the dinosaurs. They evolved a unique chemical reaction called bioluminescence using calcium, magnesium and a catalyst called luciferin to emit the glow, but without giving off heat.Says butterfly expert Bhaiya Khanal, previously with the Natural History Museum: “Firefly tourism opens up a lot of opportunities including the possibility of finding more species. This, in turn, will promote their conservation.”The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-fading-light-of-nepals-fireflies/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-fading-light-of-nepals-fireflies/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625458802773000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHEHvKhtSI6lRk1fHx42AG1CCgjFA">main threats to fireflies in Nepal</a> and elsewhere in the world are degradation of its wetland habitat, pesticide use, as well as light pollution that interferes with their mating signals. The climate crisis now also threatens all 2,200 firefly species so far identified. Fireflies have not been studied in detail in Nepal, and we do not even know how many species are found in the country.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05f69c7e80680e0a5f38jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1493" height="987"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>In Pokhara itself, the spread of tourism along the lakefront has added light pollution to the dangers of pesticide use and urban expansion into the forested slopes. Fireflies take a year in their metamorphosis life cycle between egg, larva and adult, for this they need clean water and dark space.However, ‘citizen scientists’ in 10 districts have been studying the insects and trying to spread awareness in communities about excess light pollution, <a href="https://www.ecowatch.com/fireflies-extinction-2645035259.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ecowatch.com/fireflies-extinction-2645035259.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625458802773000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEf3YLpG4DuRkULyH1Xrjq_E7N3DA">pesticide use and habitat destruction</a>.Says Hum Gurung: “While developing firefly tourism, we must also be careful that tourism itself is not one of the reasons the lights go out on these magical insects.”

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Pokhara comes alive at night

<figure><img width="1919" height="778" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94709c7e80680e06f200jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>All illustrations by Brian Houghton Hodgson.</figcaption></figure>“Does it have a tail?”“I can’t see because it's sitting on it.”“What about its eyes and coat?”“Bright and black eyes with spikey brown fur.”“Sounds like a greater bandicoot.”“Oh dear. Not again.”“The bamboo rat lives underground so he has tiny eyes. Stocky. Short tail. Reddish colour.”“I don’t think it’s him.”“Disappointing. Check its tail when you let it go.” “You mean when Laxman lets it go - at the bottom of the garden. It’s pouring with rain and I’m ready for bed.”“Tomorrow put the trap right up against the burrow below the bamboo clump.”“Ok. We’ll keep trying.”“At least it’s a big one tonight, not another Himalayan field rat or Niviventer like we had before.”“I really like these jungly outdoor chaps, especially the little ones with the mickey mouse ears, white tummies and pink feet.”“Careful. Don’t get attached.”“Ha!”“He’s historic, first described by <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-antelope-and-an-artist/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-antelope-and-an-artist/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624848414007000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE9iRmWBm18R4pl0PTFwQXcdB4puA">Brian Houghton Hodgson</a> in 1845.” <figure><img width="1555" height="370" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94739c7e80680e06f201jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is day six of our wildlife catching exercise, trying to entrap a lesser bamboo rat (also first recorded by <a href="https://www.currentconservation.org/brian-houghton-hodgson-1801-1894-2/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.currentconservation.org/brian-houghton-hodgson-1801-1894-2/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624848414008000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFupEgVISbfPggSqOdoAzpG4-n1hQ">Hodgson in Nepal in 1841</a>) for Stuart Chapman -- one of the few species he has never seen. A new big tick for his mammal list. After a career in conservation, only 24 people in the world are in front of him. Stuart’s natural competitiveness is thwarted by the pandemic and rivals are creeping ahead – the unforgiving world of mammalogists. “The Fawn-coloured mouse at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/no-tiger-no-mountain/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/no-tiger-no-mountain/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624848414008000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG2NL4BtN5AHeGrrH-DLHGuDkMyzA">Tiger Mountain Pokhara Lodge</a> was a big win. I need to bag some more new species.” Our garden is not that big and suffers from a ruthless gardener and four energetic dogs but still has proven to be teeming with nocturnal wildlife. “Three species identified are the bandicoot Bandicota indica and lesser Himalayan Rattus nitidus who seem to inhabit bamboo, and the niviventer Niviventer niviventer who are the fellows you see in the creeper around the terrace. I strongly suspect the bamboo rat is also there <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannomys_badius" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannomys_badius&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624848414008000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyjrPSIgHGH1RLre_fGBax9OCvSg">Cannomys badius</a>. After these, I’m desperate to get onto the Tibetan plateau to find a pika (Ochotona himalayana).” <figure><img width="1500" height="448" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94759c7e80680e06f202jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Not all after-dark critter activity in the garden is benign. The main suspect for killing the stately stand of bamboo are the bandicoots, turning the waxy yellow stems streaked with delicate green into a sickly flat ochre, the dead fronds a brittle rattle in the evening breeze. In the quiet of the night the chomping rats are sometimes audible, although the holes amongst the tangled roots are expanded by the dogs digging frantically into the sound. Although there used to be mongoose and squirrels, we seldom see them because of the dogs. They also drive away the monkeys who visit when the trees are fruiting, and occasionally catch an unfortunate snake. Because of our proximity to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6950#.YNffXC8RoWp" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D6950%23.YNffXC8RoWp&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1624848414008000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFIbPVx3v27p76n2OYYkl_FgXSJTg">Shivapuri Nagarjun National Park</a>, wild night-time barking usually signals a passing civet, or even a leopard. I’ve seen both in our vicinity. One of our family legends is when a leopard got into the garden over the high wire fence entwined with climbers, probably jumping down from an overhanging tree. Dogs are known to be their favourite meal, and many Budhanilkantha neighbours have lost their pets. But in our case the leopard took fright, driven by our pack into the shelter of a big rocky cluster.  <figure><img width="1384" height="288" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94779c7e80680e06f203jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The story goes that the smallest dog Rusty, a feisty half terrier mixed with serious Kathmandu street variety, caught the end of the poor leopard’s tail and tried to pull him out backwards from his shelter beneath the stones. The Department of Wildlife had to be called, but it all ended happily when the leopard found its own way out over the fence and back into the forest, without eating any of them.Last month heavy rain after the long drought triggered swarms of winged termites. Rising in clouds out of holes in the ground, their fragile wings and frail lifespans filled the mauve sunset and caused a feeding frenzy of feasting toads, swooping swallows and darting fruit bats. (“Fulvous fruit bats Rousettus leschenaultia, at its maximum altitude range in your garden,” says Stuart.)  <figure><img width="1834" height="1106" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b94799c7e80680e06f204jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Brushing the flying alates out of our hair and eyes, we realise these rapacious insects have colonised the outside room, infested the foundations and are devouring the wooden floor. There is a limit to our termite tolerance -- time to call the terminator to save the building. <figure><img width="1824" height="1102" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b947c9c7e80680e06f205jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Stuart, however, is committed to wilding. He is adamant that before being released from the trap, which is a metal box baited with a tasty carrot, the animal is not left too long to get too hot, too cold, too wet or too stressed. Laxman has watched Stuart decant a rodent from his steel trap into a clear plastic bag for closer examination before being let go behind the garage, but that was the much smaller Himalayan rat -- and at best it is a tricky manoeuvrer. One greater bandicoot during the same transition made a bid for safety, vaulting through Stuart’s experienced hands.It is a dark raining June night, and Laxman helpfully thinks I should check its tail myself as he attempts to tip the rat into a ziplock bag on the front doorstep. The four dogs look on with interest, safely tied, and so does Hari the cook, Ram the gardener, Mohan the night guard and me in my pyjamas. <figure><img width="500" height="531" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121152/636b947f9c7e80680e06f206jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The inevitable happens, and we all have an excellent view of his tail as the bandicoot’s escape route takes him straight past me into the house. The long tail trails him up the staircase before he can be turned back down, dislodged from behind furniture, pursued by brooms and dishcloths through the dining room, hall, bathroom and eventually out through the kitchen. I have climbed to safety on a chair with Stuart’s bearded face grinning with concern on my phone. “Such a handsome looking animal!”

Lisa Choegyal

Kathmandu’s other nightlife

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6589c7e80680e08779ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Kathmandu’s tourist neighbourhood of Thamel has been a ghost town for most of 2020, but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokhara-tourism-lifted-by-nepali-footfalls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">just like Pokhara</a> and Chitwan it is now bustling with Nepalis who are going out with a vengeance.Cooped up at home for the best part of the year, and despite a surge in coronavirus cases in Kathmandu Valley, young Nepalis are thronging to nightclubs and resto-bars in Thamel and Darbar Marg.Public health experts have warned that the nightspots could become coronavirus hotspots, but that does not seem to deter Nepalis determined to have a good time.After Pokhara, Thamel, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-by-night/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu’s prime nightlife</a> destination and popular pre-base camp for trekkers and mountaineers is now opening up to local visitors as they await international tourists to return.Streets in Thamel, Pokhara’s lakeside and Sauraha that for months were <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/survive-2020-revive-in-2021-and-thrive-in-2022/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">deserted</a> had started filling up again with rowdy revellers since Dasain, and the footfalls have been increasing ever since.Taxis and rickshaws are once more waiting for passengers, souvenir shops are crowded with Nepalis, and bars are thrumming with live rock music.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be65c9c7e80680e08779fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be65f9c7e80680e0877a0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6639c7e80680e0877a1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6669c7e80680e0877a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6699c7e80680e0877a3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be66d9c7e80680e0877a4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Low air fares have also made it possible for young people to visit Pokhara, people from Biratnagar and Dharan to visit Kathmandu, and the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/everest-trail-reopens-but-cautiously/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">trekking trails in the mountains are full of Nepali hikers</a>.Most bars and pubs in Thamel are now open for business, catering to Nepali customers from 7 to 9:30PM every night. Bartenders and waiters with face visors, masks and gloves is a common site.But although maintaining social distance is a norm, some of the nightspots were filled to the rafters on Friday night with youngsters on the dance floor.In its first Friday after reopening, the popular bar in the heart of Thamel LOD (Lord of the Drinks) was brimming with youth enjoying a night out following nine months of imposed lockdowns and restrictions to contain the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-will-nepals-covid-vaccine-turn-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">spread of Covid-19</a>.But even as nightlife and small business are on track, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepals-covid-19-figures-are-deceptive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu is still on the grips of coronavirus crisis</a>. While much fewer daily new infections (mostly owing to reduced tests and no official contact tracing), the capital city with Lalitpur and Bhaktapur districts still make up for over 50% of all new positives with close to 8,000 active cases.Says CEO of LOD Rabin Shrestha:“We make sure all customers have normal body temperatures and once in, people are not allowed on the dance floor. And despite our occupancy of 2000+, we are letting in less than 200 at a time.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6709c7e80680e0877a5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6749c7e80680e0877a6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be6779c7e80680e0877a7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181140/636be67a9c7e80680e0877a8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Towards the end of 2019 and in the beginning of 2020, many new businesses catering to tourists had opened up in Thamel with high hopes of turnout as the country was gearing up <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-tourism-may-take-5-years-to-recover/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Visit Nepal Year 2020</a>.But following first few months of lockdown, hundreds of businesses shutdown unable to pay rents, which ranged from Rs50,000 to half a million depending on the space. Soon, Thamel, which thrives on international tourists, was on the brink of collapse.Many small businesses were eventually granted 50% discount on their rents and utility bills. But with no international visitors on sight, shopkeepers and businesses have set their targets on local consumers to make up for the loss by adjusting their services more suited to Nepalis and with special discounts and packages.

Covid fatigue drives Nepalis to nightspots

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814114/636a53c79c7e80680e05236cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Photo: GOPEN RAI</figcaption></figure>Many visitors to Nepal complain that there is not much to do after dark besides go to their hotel rooms to watch tv. But Kathmandu has a different kind of vibrant nightlife, people just don’t know about it yet.We should be able to offer tourists and locals heritage walks by moonlight, dining under the stars, and night market shopping experiences in Nepal’s monuments sites. That would be one way to increase the time and money visitors spend here. Managed properly, this could be a real opportunity to extend visitors’ stays, enrich their experience and increase revenue from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/guiding-nepals-tourism-industry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">tourism</a>, which is falling even as numbers rise.In inner city Kathmandu, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bhaktapur-shows-the-way-by-rebuilding-itself/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bhaktapur</a> and Patan, bhajan groups are active all night, all year long. Night walks along the alleyways of the old town yield a unique experience of this culturally vibrant valley. It is a myth that Kathmandu goes to sleep early. In fact, it is a city that never sleeps. Devotional music, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandus-festival-of-the-mysterious-dancing-goddess/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">mask dances</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chariot festivals</a> go on till dawn.Of course, the street lights need to work. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Sinkhole-politics-in-Nepal,3837" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Potholes</a> need to be fixed, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-load-of-rubbish-kathmandus-garbage-problem,4039" target="_blank" rel="noopener">garbage</a> managed, food and water quality assured. Designated parking and making narrow lanes vehicle-free would help. Emergency vehicles would be on standby. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/cleaner-air-with-greener-buses/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Electric two or three wheelers</a> could help people commute to parking areas.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/patans-hidden-treasures/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mahendra Shakya</a>, who now operates a chain of hotels called the Heranya – including one at <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Patan Durbar Square</a> – says, “We have a world class city. What we really need to upgrade is the third-class services and infrastructure for the visitors.”CCTV and visible patrols by the police will be needed. We may even need a night court for trouble-makers. All these mean more jobs and will be worth it because we can boost the revenue of the local governments. We can do a baseline and report trends in increased revenue in the days to come.During the Rana days there was actually a night time curfew. The city has finally come out of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-they-kept-nepal-in-the-dark-ages/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">regular power outages</a> and we may soon have a bit of power surplus to push for increased demand. NEA should spend some of its profit re-investing in street lighting for additional revenue. After all, late night is when demand is lowest.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/20-electric-by-2020/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sajha Yatayat</a> can run special bus routes to and from heritage sites to tourist hubs like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/thamel-gets-back-to-business/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Thamel</a> till midnight. Imagine the ride from Thamel to Bhaktapur on a well lit road in a clean electric bus, minus the traffic at Ratna Park, Maitighar and Koteswor.The million dollar question is whether the local people, businesses, heritage site managers, security agencies and local municipal governments are ready for these longer work hours. It really means changing from a 10-5 job to putting in two shifts. One could argue that creating twice as many jobs would be welcome in a country where we desperately need employment.Not just visitors, Nepalis who work hard all day would love to spend the evenings at these beautiful over a beer, momos or to browse in a book store. With more and more <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/women-standing-above-the-ground" target="_blank" rel="noopener">women joining the workforce</a>, people will be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/look-whats-cooking-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cooking</a> less and less at home.Heritage sites are already attracting visitors at night for the arati at Pashupati and Janakpur, the Nava Durga and Asta Matrika masked dances in Bhaktapur and Patan, and the Indra Jatra in Kathmandu and so much more.The monuments and dabalis or raised platforms for performances would come to life with cultural performances. We could have sound and light shows. The key is how we bring these places to life year round with the best services and infrastructure.Away from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/selective-outrage-about-heritage-loss/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">heritage sites</a>, we have our other monuments: the Himalaya. With little light <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/air-pollution-is-more-dangerous-than-smoking/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pollution</a>, visitors can watch snow mountains by starlight, the moon shining on the world’s highest peaks, wait for meteorite showers, and take time lapse photographs of a world spinning on its axis. Nowhere else in the world are there nights like in Nepal.Anil Chitrakar is President of Siddharthinc

Anil Chitrakar

Nepal by night

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

nightlife