<img width="1394" height="958" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722ebe9c7e80680e0c24dcjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Three days after the Supreme Court released the full text of its verdict ordering the government to halt all plans to build a new <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/building-nijgad-come-what-may/">international airport at Nijgad Forest</a>, Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba flew down to the site in an Army helicopter. His Communist coalition partners Pushpa Kamal Dahal and Madhav Kumar Nepal went along for the ride.In defiance of the Supreme Court, Deuba vowed to challenge the ruling. Sitting in a semicircle of sofas with other Cabinet ministers, he declared: “The government is committed to completing the construction of both the Nijgad airport and the Kathmandu-Tarai Expressway linking it to the capital.”Deuba interpreted the 3-2 ruling by the justices to mean that the high court had not actually rejected building the airport, just to ensure adherence to environmental safeguards. Why such a show of force and thumbing of noses on the part of the executive against the judiciary? Tagging along with Deuba on the Nijgad flyby were the entire cabinet and coalition partners. Not only is the unity of the coalition hanging by a thread as individual members weigh their chances in November's federal and provincial elections, but member parties are also <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-mixed-report-card/">rife with internal tension.</a>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/aborted-landing-in-nijgad/">real estate mafia</a> with close ties to the leadership of all political parties has reportedly invested heavily in land surrounding the proposed $3.6 billion airport. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/aborted-landing-in-nijgad/">Contractors will also benefit</a> from political patronage and are rubbing their palms at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/15-points-for-and-against-nijgad-airport/">felling an entire forest</a> of hardwood timber.But the more immediate reason for government partners and the entire cabinet to airlift itself to Nijgad on Saturday was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/planting-seeds-of-democracy/">to show that the coalition is strong </a>and united. <img width="1738" height="832" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722ec29c7e80680e0c24ddjpeg.jpg" alt="">The trip also came the day after the dissident Nepali Congress leader Shekhar Koirala accused Deuba of no longer being the president of his own party, but president of the coalition. Koirala’s faction includes deputy president Dhanaraj Gurung and general secretary Gagan Thapa, and threatened to launch a “constructive opposition” against its own party leadership. It also accused Deuba of tolerating lack of transparency in the Finance Ministry, and of his inability to take action to protect the economy from further shock.Bagmati Province Chief Minister Rajendra Pandey was also in the group. Nijgad falls within Madhes Province, and its Chief Minister Lal Babu Raut also wants the airport project to go ahead to spur economic growth.Rajendra Pandey’s inclusion in the trip taken win added significance because he has refused to step down as chief minister of Bagmati Province as agreed earlier with the coalition partners. In fact, Nepali Congress leaders in Hetauda had started a signature campaign against Pandey and a decision was to be taken at a parliamentary party meeting of the Unified Socialists on Saturday itself.The other reason for the trip was for Deuba to send an indirect message of defiance to the Supreme Court that it had no business interfering with decisions of the government.  It was a signal that the executive does not feel compelled to follow word for word any decision of the judiciary. <img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722ec59c7e80680e0c24dejpeg.jpg" alt="">In fact, the Supreme Court’s decision has taken the proposal to build an international report in Nijgad to its pre-1995 date. From now on, we should no longer refer to Nijgad as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/does-nepal-need-a-4th-international-airport/">a proposed international airport</a>, but as the last remaining native tropical forest in the eastern Tarai that it is. The Court's final text says: ‘We do not see any logical argument to prove that there is no other alternative to building an airport at Nijgad.’An exhaustive and lengthy sentence in the verdict goes on to state: ‘In addition to the economic and technical feasibility of the airport, there needs to be an objective, neutral and competent assessment by economists, social scientists, administration experts, of the impact on the environment, forest ecosystem, wildlife of the region, and an investigation into alternative sites where actual and realistic ways to minimise the environment impact are examined so that a legally acceptable environmental risk assessment report can be made that takes into account expert advice, to conclude what capacity airport should be built, where, and in what area, and the court orders that these factors are then taken into account to decide on the location of an airport that has the smallest ecological footprint.’Translated, these 119 pages of legalese means that the Supreme Court has decided that destroying the Nijgad Forest to build an airport <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/zurich-airport-international-opts-out-of-nepal-project/">is not worth the damage</a>. The issue now is: will the government dare to go against this verdict?Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nijgads-green-runway/">Nijgad’s green runway</a>, Kashish Das Shrestha

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

Flight of fancy

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14219c7e80680e0a9961jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="2000"/><figcaption>The terminal building of Pokhara’s new airport with its sweeping steel roof nears completion amidst a dramatic backdrop of the Annapurnas.</figcaption></figure><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19515#.YZ22olVByJC">Forty years after it was first proposed</a>, Pokhara’s new airport is finally nearing completion to connect the scenic tourism hub to regional capitals by July 2022.With an investment of Rs22 billion, China’s CAMC Engineering has now finished the runway, apron, taxiway and terminal work and all that remains to be done is to<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cabinet-indecision-delays-pokhara-airport/"> slice off the top of a hill on the eastern approach</a> to the airport, which will be able to accommodate Airbus 320s and Boeing 757s.Nepal’s third international airport after Kathmandu and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-buddha-was-born-in-lumbini/">Lumbini</a>, the project was <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Pokhara-waits-for-take-off,4136">delayed</a> by decades of turf battles, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/pokhara-airport-takesoff,2965">bureaucratic hurdles, local opposition, corruption in high places,</a> and finally the pandemic last year.The Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) is planning a soft opening in mid-2022 for domestic flights and then allow international flights from China, India, Malaysia and the Gulf countries.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c32WjMV3InYHowever, there are now questions about current airport, with the Pokhara Airport Office, CAAN and the Ministry of Tourism and Civil Aviation undecided about what to do with the prime real estate.The chief of Pokhara Airport, Bikram Raj Gautam, who is also coordinating the task force to prepare for the transfer of operations, says there are no firm decisions yet."We have sent appropriate suggestions to the higher authorities," he said evasively, "ultimately, we follow what they decide. It could continue to be used for other aviation-related work."Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokhara-nepals-new-aviation-gateway/">Pokhara: Nepal’s new aviation gateway</a>, Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14249c7e80680e0a9962jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="650" height="475"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cleared-to-land/">Pokhara airport</a> is the second busiest airport in the country after Kathmandu, with an average of 31 flights a day connecting Jomsom, Bhairawa, Simara, Bharatpur, Nepalganj and Kathmandu.Out of 54 airports across the country 19 are currently inoperative, and locals have turned a majority of these into grazing areas for livestock. In addition, CAAN is not up to speed on the utilities, land, and infrastructure that remain in those airfields. This raises doubts about whether it can handle the vested interests that have eyes on the present airport’s valuable real estate.“The necessary infrastructure and staff of the closed airports have all been shifted and repurposed to the nearest open airport," says CAAN’s Raj Kumar Chhetri, who adds that it is necessary to prevent encroachment and pressure from the land mafia."Such expensive property in the middle of the city cannot go to waste," he says. "If pressure on the new international airport were to drastically increase, the old airport could be brought back into service for domestic flights and sports aviation," he says.Read more:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cleared-to-land/">Cleared to land</a> <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-will-be-a-game-changer/">"Pokhara will be a game changer"</a><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14269c7e80680e0a9963jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="1688"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Unfortunately, the delay in decision-making means the airport may be subject to the same misuse seen in other government properties. Examples like the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/legal-niceities/">Baluwatar land scandal</a> in Kathmandu show that politicians and legislators often have their eyes on cashing in on national property.Pokhara’s civil society wants to keep the airport as an open space in a city that is urbanising fast and losing its greenery. Indeed, municipalities across Nepal are fond of erecting concrete monuments, build shopping centres and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-war-tourism-is-a-scam/">view towers</a>, or just haphazardly selling the land piecemeal.Chhetri says Pokhara’s current airport will not be abandoned like other closed airfields across the country."After appropriate research, the airport can be used in the public’s interest," he says. However, these matters are yet to be discussed with local representatives and Pokhara’s businesses.Pokhara’s deputy mayor Manju Devi Gurung is adamant about preventing unnecessary development at the site. She says: “It should be preserved as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/open-spaces-and-open-society/">an open space</a>. Even if it is the property of the national government, it should be used for the benefit of the locals of Pokhara."Local stakeholders agree that the airport should be converted into a green area with a public park. Infrastructure expert, Suryaraj Acharya sees this as an opportunity to enhance the beauty of the city, and says: "<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-green-city-is-a-smart-city/">Open spaces are integral for families and communities.</a> There is no need to even think about adding more concrete to the area."Translated from <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/126704">the original</a> by Aryan Sitaula.

What to do with Pokhara’s ‘extra’ airport?

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e2419c7e80680e033319jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1359" height="823"/>In 1994, when Nijgad was identified as the site of Nepal’s planned new international gateway, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Air-jam,4196">traffic congestion at Kathmandu Airport</a> was not as bad as it is today. It was difficult then to justify a new international airport so far from Kathmandu.So, Nijgad was projected to be not just an airport serving the capital, but a regional hub for international destinations like Doha, Dubai and Singapore. Like everything else, the war and political wrangling delayed the project for decades.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/gigantism/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Gigantism</a>, Editorial Today, ultra long-range airliners do not need refuelling and transit stops. The trend is towards point-to-point service with equipments like the Boeing 787 or Airbus 350. However, traffic volume today has exceeded the Tribhuvan International Airport’s current capacity, and Nijgad may be feasible as a destination airport for Kathmandu if there is a new expressway to cut travel time.The Communist government came to power with the promise of prosperity, and it is reviving the $6.7 billion Nijgad airport project as a catalyst for growth, and to take the pressure off of Kathmandu.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/groping-in-the-dark/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Groping in the dark</a>, Om Astha RaiLast week, the government approved the airport’s Environment Impact Assessment report, even though 2.4 million trees need to be axed in 7,000 hectares of hardwood forest where the airport will be. In his budget speech on Tuesday, Finance Minister Khatiwada allocated Rs19 billion for the aviation sector, including Nijgad.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e2449c7e80680e03331ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="450"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In an interview with Nepali Times (see below), Tourism and Civil Aviation Minister Rabindra Adhikari announced that the bidding process will start in six months, and the construction site will be cleared and readied for construction in just two years.Adhikari claims Nijgad will be “bigger, busier and more advanced” than Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi. “It will be a game changer for Nepal’s economy,” he said.Aviation analyst Hemant Arjyal says: “Nepal can build a hub airport, but whether it will actually evolve into a hub depends on how convenient international airlines find it.”Arjyal argues that any international airport needs a big enough catchment area, and for Nijgad that will be Kathmandu. “If passengers cannot reach Kathmandu within one hour after landing at Nijgad, this multi-billion dollar airport will fail,” he says. “So, the key to Nijgad’s success will be how fast the fast-track to the Tarai will be.”Minister Adhikari argues that only 10% of passengers flying into Nijgad will be to or from Kathmandu, the others will be using it to fly on to international destinations, or reach domestic points. But aviation experts are skeptical, and say the whole hub concept is outdated and misplaced.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e2469c7e80680e03331bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1248"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Retired Nepal Airlines captain Y K Bhattarai calls the plan to develop Nijgad as an international hub 'a flight of imagination'. He says the government should have considered geopolitical realities, and the modern aviation market in the Asia-Pacific.“Let us build Nijgad, but only after taking into account that Nepal’s air space is enclosed by a country that does not give us anything easily or freely,” he says. “Nijgad’s future as an aviation hub is in India’s hands, and building a mammoth airport without taking air routes into account is like putting the cart before the horse.”Bhattarai is a member of a task force that will recommend ways to improve aviation sector. He has experience of Indian air traffic controllers restricting elevation and route clearance for flights to and from Nepal. India has refused inbound air routes through Bhairawa and Janakpur because its air force base is near the Nepal border. This is unlikely to be resolved in talks with the Airports Authority of India next month.Meanwhile, congestion at Kathmandu is being used as <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/incompetence-of-kathmandu-airport-magnified-during-shutdown,2086">a justification for Nijgad</a>. Some critics say the airport’s $100million ADB-supported expansion project is being deliberately delayed to justify Nijgad. Apron, taxiway and terminal building extensions and better air traffic management could ease the present congestion, and keep Kathmandu airport viable for decades more.Despite its cost, however, Nijgad now seems to be a political fait accompli. Even infrastructure experts like Surya Raj Acharya say: “We should have built Nijgad at least a decade ago.”<h1>The last patch of Char Kose Jhari</h1><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e2499c7e80680e03331cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Char Kose Jhari used to be a strip of dense malarial jungle in the Tarai separating the Chure Range from the Indian plains. After the eradication of malaria, the forests were cleared by settlers from the mountains and from India. Construction of the East-West Highway in the 1970s, transmission lines, the 1980 referendum, all helped shrink this primary hardwood forest to a few remaining patches.Nijgad airport and the expressway linking it to Kathmandu will decimate the last remaining expanse of this once-vast jungle. In all, the Nepal Army is preparing to fell 2.4 million sal trees in a swath of 80sq km – wiping out <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/habitat-destrcution-of-tiger-in-Tarai,3423">the last remaining migration corridor for endangered wild elephants and tigers</a>, depleting the buffer zone of the Parsa Wildlife Reserve, and removing vegetation that recharges groundwater. Conservationists also worry that a huge busy airport right next to a nature sanctuary will also disturb wildlife.Although the government claims that selling the valuable timber from the site will fetch nearly Rs70 billion, it will prevent 22,500 tons of carbon from being sequestered in the vegetation annually, which in turn will deprive Nepal of earning Rs160 million annually from the global carbon fund. The economic value of oxygen lost due to deforestation for Nijgad airport is huge: Rs 230 billion, and that is not counting the airport’s own carbon footprint.Biodiversity expert Prabhu Budhathoki, a former member of Nepal Planning Commission, explains: “This is going to be the most serious deforestation of the Tarai in the last 50 years, it will affect wildlife, and also damage hydrological ecosystem and agriculture.”Budhathoki argues that clearing the forest for Nijgad Airport will set a bad precedent: and show that jungles are expendable and have to make way for new physical infrastructure.The airport is the latest example of the need to balance economic needs with environmental protection, even though the main argument against the project is its cost and economic viability. The airport has pitted ecologists against economists: infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya maintains that the airport is so necessary that felling 2.4 million trees is “nothing compared to its economic advantage”.<h1>“Nijgad airport will be a game changer”</h1>Tourism and Civil Aviation Minister Rabindra Adhikari is a man in a hurry. He wants Nepal to make up for its lost decades in aviation infrastructure. He spoke to Nepali Times this week about why he feels so strongly about Nijgad. <figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111144/6368e24d9c7e80680e03331djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="887"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepali Times: After 20 years, the Environment Impact Assessment (EIA) report for Nijgad has finally been approved. What is next?We will sign an MoU with the Nepal Army in a few days. The military will fell trees and build periphery roads. It may take two years to clear the construction site. But we will initiate the international bidding process within six months. We will finalise land acquisition and resettlement of the 1,400 families living at the site, either providing them with cash or a relocation site. We will even resettle those who do not have land titles. The project will not face any more delays, and the airport could be ready in less than 10 years.Why this sudden urgency?We badly need a second international airport. The only international airport we now have in Kathmandu is congested, and cannot be expanded.But there are two more international airports coming up in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19515#.Ww_5WFUzbIU">Bhairawa and Pokhara</a> …You cannot compare Bhairawa and Pokhara with Nijgad. Not even Kathmandu will match Nijgad Airport’s scale and scope. It will be an international air hub -- a real game changer for Nepal’s economy. International flights from over two dozen cities will be landing every day, tens of thousands of passengers will catch connecting flights. Planes will also be making stopovers for refueling. It will be bigger, more advanced and busier than any other airport in Nepal.Why not upgrade nearby Simara airport instead of clearing valuable forests?Nijgad is Nijgad. It is an ideal place for an international hub airport not just from a business standpoint, but also because of climate. This is one place in the Tarai which remains largely unaffected by fog even in winter.But Simara is just 10 km away from Nijgad.Yes, but even that short distance makes a huge difference.Over 2.4 million trees have to be cut to clear the site.We will plant 25 saplings elsewhere for every single tree that is felled. We are also looking at minimizing the felling. One option is to not build the adjacent airport city planned for the second phase.What is the economic viability of an airport so far away from the capital?Nijgad Airport’s future depends on Kathmandu-Tarai fast-track highway. But this airport will be a hub, as I said, and will not depend solely on Kathmandu traffic. In fact, we think only 10% of the total traffic will be for Kathmandu.Nepal has only one entry point for international flights from Indian air space. Don’t we need more two-way routes for Bhairawa, Pokhara and Nijgad?We are not just a land-locked but also air-locked country at the moment. But we are negotiating with India for more air routes. A technical team from the Airports Authority of India will come to Nepal next month for talks, India is amenable to new entry points through Biratnagar and Nepalganj, and we are are also seeking Mahendranagar, Bhairawa and Janakpur.Are you serious about a domestic airport in Kavre?I am serious because it will ease traffic congestion at Kathmandu Airport by 31% . I am also pushing for inter-provincial air connections with Pokhara-Bhairawa, Pokhara-Biratnagar and Pokhara-Nepalganj flights.People think I am connecting Pokhara to other cities because I am an MP from there, but Pokhara has huge growth potential. The airport will service flights to Lukla, Tumlingtar and other mountain destinations, and we can double the capacity for mountain flights, and help the tourism industry.Readers write<a dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/avista.rijal?fref=ufi&amp;rc=p" target="_self" data-ft="{&quot;tn&quot;:&quot;;&quot;}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100000986481016&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Atrue%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi_admin%22%7D">Avista R-Rizal</a> In my opinion after TIA one more international airport is far more than enough. But inter connectivity is required.<a id="js_axw" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/rkldeo?fref=ufi&amp;rc=p" target="_self" data-ft="{&quot;tn&quot;:&quot;;&quot;}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100001426015274&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Atrue%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi_admin%22%7D" aria-describedby="js_axv" aria-owns="js_axs">Radhakrishna Lal Deo</a> By upgrading Biratnagar or Janakpur it can be postponed for few decades!<a id="js_b3s" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100010222925192&amp;fref=ufi&amp;rc=p" target="_self" data-ft="{&quot;tn&quot;:&quot;;&quot;}" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=100010222925192&amp;extragetparams=%7B%22is_public%22%3Atrue%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi_admin%22%7D" aria-describedby="js_b3r" aria-owns="">Darryl Mason</a> Spend the money on TIA and the surrounding area and another airport won't be needed

Does Nepal need a 4th international airport?

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

We often see ourselves reflected in the other. For someone who grew up in Kathmandu Valley in the eighties and nineties, this maxim comes alive with an even greater force. Nepal’s media ecosystem was dismal, the school curriculum was narrow and did not provide opportunities for creative expression. Perhaps that is why I became obsessed with MTV videos and Bollywood films. I saw my developing self reflected in these story-lines and razzmatazz. When the media and education system do not engage the public and reflect myriad interests, aspirations and lifestyles of the population, citizens get detached and disconnected from their roots. I left for America for further studies, and was somewhat determined to never return to Nepal. It was a country full of potholes and black-outs. But foreigners have been fascinated with our country for decades. In the early 19th century, Francis Buchanan-Hamilton led a pioneering expedition and documented more than a thousand species of plants native to the region. Almost a century later, in 1905, Frenchman Sylvan Levi published ‘the first attempt to produce a comprehensive study of Nepal’, drawing on not just indigenous but available Chinese and European sources as well. After Nepal opened up in the 1950s, different kinds of foreigners have traveled here -- most notably, cold-war era spies disguised as diplomats, and later came the hippies. I returned to Nepal in 2013 and was primarily struck by two major demographics - the artists and the expats. Energised by the recent revolution, the creatives were making vibrant, powerful works. The expats, on the other hand, demonstrated a different way to navigate life in Kathmandu Valley. These two groups of people re-introduced Nepal to me and I began seeing my country and my hometown with a renewed perspective. Which is why one particular image from Giovanna Caruso’s ongoing show at the <a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank">Kalā</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/thekalasalon/?hl=en" target="_blank"> Salon</a> curated by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/facades-and-flowers-from-nepal-to-italy" target="_blank">Sophia L Pandé</a> instantly caught my attention -- rather, it called out to me, as if it was composed for me, framing a key moment from my own life. Its title is, coincidentally, 2013. Like most of her other works, the pen-and-ink drawing is punctuated by an explosion of watercolour: a woman standing confidently in front of a Newa-style house, a leg arched up, as if she is fixing a strap around an ankle before stepping out on an adventure. The watercolour depicts a rainbow streaming out of a pot through a second-floor window. The rest of the details are rendered in realism – clusters of garlic and onion hanging to dry from the rafters, and further down a stack of corn. There are towels drying, even an old water pump.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251201121216_f440de5b5402fe0877dc46d94f41647bd46b00035b61241d46fc9f7ffbd87d0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="art review Kala Salon"> </figure>  When I walked over to this artwork with Caruso, she chuckled, “Ah, this work is a celebration of my 30 years in Nepal.” It was while trying to calm a restless group of students during her teaching days in Italy that Caruso first came across an iconic image of Kathmandu Darbar Square. She had found an old box of slides and while projecting images from the Himalaya to engage her students, the artist was determined to travel to Nepal. The first flat she rented was close to the square and the view from her rooftop was the same as the one she had encountered inside her classroom. She has been traveling to Nepal every year since. Some of her favourite drawings depict Khokana in morning fog. From 1993-2006, she drew murals at Ram Mandir and Pashupatinath, asking sadhus to guide her and correct her depictions. Caruso received a classical education, which means she was trained to focus on perspective and geometry while capturing mainly portraits and still lives. She is influenced by M C Escher and his explorations of mathematics and symmetry. No wonder she finds the Darbar Square architecture so compelling. She also names as inspiration Gustave Dore, whose style is different from Escher’s and I can see how she has fused these influences in her body of work: Escher’s austerity complimented and slightly dislodged by Dore’s comics and caricatures. “Before starting, the painting needs to be complete in my mind,” she explains as we pass a series of portraits titled Saraswati, Lakshmi, Kali Dancing, and Durga dominated by a roaring tiger. “These are all real people, I ask my friends and family members to sit for me.” The Kali in the drawing has the artist’s fiery copper red hair and she is dancing, surrounded by various men with flowing hair. The artist seems to have experimented here, drawing the revelers from above, and indulging in playful abandon. Depictions of Nepal are often in danger of being exoticised. But Caruso is familiar with her subjects, knows our alleys and temples intimately. Her colours and compositions are passionate and dense. In an essay, Anirudh S Chari writes the artist’s work is splashed with rapturous energy and most drawings have a carnivalesque element. ‘Kali Dancing’ illustrates this idea perfectly in that she has turned Kali’s usual fearsome portrayal on its head by depicting and embracing another feminine principle - the capacity to celebrate and create joy. Apart from drawing inspiration from Hindu goddesses and Nepal’s multi-colored rituals, Caruso has also drawn the Sumerian Ianna and Lillith and the Egyptian Nut. She enjoys drawing Nataraja, and says it is because “Shiva is a good husband”. We stand another painting titled 100 Days a Lion. “There is a saying in Italian, Better one day as a lion than a hundred days as a sheep, but I thought why not 100 Days a Lion?” This sentiment captures this nomadic artist’s spirit spanning four decades, in which she has captured urban energy as well as the sacred imagery of ‘life diaries on canvas’. From Venezia to Kathmandu and Journeys In Between Giovanna Caruso The Kalā Salon Chhaya Centre Mall, Thamel Till 12 December 10am- 8pm

Looking at Nepal from Venice

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

It is quite a feat for just two actors on a darkened stage to hold an audience spellbound for more than one hour. Yet, ‘के? Us.’ at Kausi Theatre does just that. It is a thought-provoking but baffling work that leaves the audience questioning reality, the recurring metaphors in this intriguing and powerful dark comedy haunting us for days afterwards.&nbsp; The unsettling sound of deep breathing mingles with percussive drumming and a driving guitar that pulsates amidst a red glow, dimly illuminating shadowy structures charred by fire. A door leads to what is later revealed to be the ancestral home of two brothers which is ‘under renovation’. One of the brothers Ashim (Bijaya Tamrakar) lives in Nepal caring for a supposedly comatose mother who is only depicted by a tree draped with red LED lights that circulate arterial blood corpuscles. Visiting him is a long-lost brother Aaryan (Eelum Dixit) who has returned (deported?) from America.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251202071248_d3050fcd38e1ba471ea48e18fde6a8393a086a5b3afeef71eda190f3e01366e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The stage is littered with scattered paper trash, a run-down motorcycle chassis, a tattered sofa, and beat-up table and chairs. The stage is set for a sinister plot. Are the characters to be punished in perdition?&nbsp; It does not take long for the audience to grasp that this is an apocalyptic Nepal that, following absurdist traditions, could exist at any time in the future or the present day <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">post-GenZ protest state</a>. Ashim and Aaryan Adhikari have reunited after 15 years. Ashim, the younger brother, has been burdened with the responsibility of taking care of their brain-dead mother. Aaryan, returns after having migrated to the US, where he married, had children, divorced, and lost everything. He has been at “minus 20 and is now back to zero”.&nbsp; The brothers have intense back-and-forths that expose their cynicism, the conversation tangentially alluding to Nepal’s unstable political landscape, migration, an economy in shambles, aging population, alcoholism and other mental health issues. Even the sibling argument about the relative merits of momos and burgers seems metaphorical. The stagecraft uses lighting and sound effects brilliantly, transporting the audience to a surreal world in which Tamrakar and Dixit improvise their lines — no two shows are exactly the same, although the overall plotline has continuity.&nbsp; In the first scene, Aaryan approaches the house tentatively, creeping rodent-like, and carrying a briefcase and an old-fashioned lantern. And at the end, Ashim screams, “I am chaos.” Is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end?&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251202071252_a49af0960d3f6f61cd8e9d5ea9c5af64655b89865711f5566f3054b701840da1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Choas play review"> </figure>  At one point Aaryan seems perturbed by the sound of protest outside (the Gen Z movement?) and the taut atmosphere grips the audience with fear, shock, and apprehension of the recent death and destruction.&nbsp; Throughout the play there is the sound of breathing, as if through a ventilator, a thumping heartbeat, the morbid buzzing of flies and the glowing red LED veins -- signifying the presence of the comatose Aama. She is featured in a prologue-esque home video at the start of the play in which she reminisces about her two sons and rues her failing memory.&nbsp; The sound of breathing gets accentuated each time a brother gets closer to the tree, and it seems to fuel Ashim’s belief that Aama may be brain-dead but she is still among them. This play can go as deep as each individual in the audience wants it to go.&nbsp; The silenced, comatose mother could be Nepali Aama muted by an entrenched patriarchy. Or, she could be the symbol of a helpless country while her children fight over the ruins of what is left. The cake cutting is a delightfully Shakespearean subplot where we wonder if one of the brothers is going to poison, or knife, the other. The message is clear: how can we move forward if it is brother against brother? The stairs signify political transition (elections, constitutional change, new coalitions) promising upward movement, but eventually lead to falls, leaving the nation exactly where it started, or worse. The mother’s terminal illness evokes an ailing state apparatus, hollowed out by corruption and deep-seated social decay. Yet the brothers cling to an irrational hope — instead of confronting the harsh truth and pursuing radical solutions, suggesting a blind faith in the mother.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251202071252_e30df0ea03c2db1759a09e2e3e3111d9d238d5cd5595a68b8052bbbc8e9ec6b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  The brothers are lost. Aaryan climbs up stairs that lead nowhere, Ashim holds on to unrealistic hope that somehow Aama will get better. Tamrakar and Dixit deliver powerful performances, even more remarkable for the fact that they are improvising their lines as they go along. When Aaryan breaks a wall and directly addresses the audience, spectators turn from being passive observers to active participants (‘the society’). The audience then become oglers in this drama, suddenly made self-aware of our role as the scrutinising, cavilling voyeurs that society represents. There is some discomfort of being watched and judged.&nbsp; By asking his brother what he is afraid of while pointing at the audience, Aaryan suggests that the brother's (and perhaps the character's core) fear is not just of the house, or the mother's illness, but of external judgment and societal censure. After the stage goes dark, the applause takes some time. Audience members shuffle out in silence, minds reeling from the collective soul-searching they have just participated in.&nbsp; After ‘के? Us.’ the din at Teku intersection outside sounds different as we wait for our Pathao ride below the खरी tree where <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Shukra+Raj+Shastri&amp;client=safari&amp;sca_esv=75e8315709cd5118&amp;rls=en&amp;sxsrf=AE3TifMJhwukjdBBT0n4QcQWe8IYSaEVsw%3A1764648053799&amp;ei=dWQuaYbIMOy94-EPn4ygyAE&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiU1ciogp6RAxXq3TQHHeo9LBIQgK4QegQIARAB&amp;uact=5&amp;oq=nepal+tree+where+martyrs+were+hanged&amp;gs_lp=Egxnd3Mtd2l6LXNlcnAiJG5lcGFsIHRyZWUgd2hlcmUgbWFydHlycyB3ZXJlIGhhbmdlZDIIECEYoAEYwwRIug5QAFiNC3AAeAGQAQCYAc4BoAHrCKoBBTAuNS4xuAEDyAEA-AEBmAIDoALlBMICBRAAGO8FmAMA4gMFEgExIECSBwUwLjEuMqAHzw-yBwUwLjEuMrgH5QTCBwcwLjIuMC4xyAcM&amp;sclient=gws-wiz-serp&amp;mstk=AUtExfCLIneLVW3SFBzxBc964wFcTJ936tcAPSDcvNKljck0PIqDJddMZ_t8Pg610M98MCx14aNdnyLHs9QM0jWLhI7JYmkPhugX1ZHfSQvdCHZE9E5m2_ZQY5Jr893UcGjQfpabtA_C48NfB9Pg56uYMOmTtEBEcGuvz3d96Qaifyb86sI8mAkrRNo_367cv_xmFjLZ55iQkfHtORuOvZSUkIdMvAdpweuf4jPjjI4anbv9lc-uCImdP0JSvtvEGL8ePxwsWWOzYpIbjNP1zofjcWXK&amp;csui=3" target="_blank">Shukra Raj Shastri</a> was hanged in 1941 by the Rana regime. Language and Literature Students, 2026.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251202071252_f2dc03a35cba33b382a66bbd43905206d9d3eb5ec3ebdcf973aeefbb4a50b6b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1350" loading="lazy" alt="Chaos play review"> </figure>  ‘के? Us.’ Kausi Theatre, Teku Till 7 December (except 2 December) Bookings: +977 9842156109, 9842574607

nijgadh

Flight of fancy

What to do with Pokhara’s ‘extra’ airport?

Does Nepal need a 4th international airport?

A new normal

Looking at Nepal from Venice

Things eventually work out

Staged chaos evokes state of Nepal