<figure><img width="1918" height="973" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb39c7e80680e0af373jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Shri Mananka, circa 5th Century AD. The obverse shows a lion while the reverse a seated goddess. Photo: OLDCOINSTAMPNOTE</figcaption></figure>On the walkway leading to the Pashupatinath Temple, vendors sit on cold stone slabs with stacks of glittering red and yellow coins before them. Some devotees stop by to buy bunches of the Re1 or Rs 2 coins for a little more than their value to offer to the gods inside.The transaction happens quickly. One side produces paper cash and the other hands over the metal coins in exchange. Chances are, some of the coins will find their way back to the vendors again, to be ‘recycled’.With lower currency denominations nearly worthless, one of the few places in Nepal where coins are still used are temples like Pashupatinath. These days, one does not pay in coins but for coins — the medium of exchange has become the object of trade itself.Bibash Shrestha, a shopkeeper in Kirtipur, cannot recall the last time he handled a coin in his store. “There is rarely any loose change to return,” he remarks. “Before we used to give out candies to make up for the difference, now even they are worth more than Re1 or Rs2.”Coins are still integral in Hindu and Buddhist puja, marriages and other rituals. During the Hindu chaurasi puja, for instance, bundles of gold coins are handed out to attendees at the end. And when building a house, coins need to be ceremonially placed on the foundation.But coins bear clues to Nepal’s historical and economic past, and carry great anthropological significance. Govinda Neupane, a student of archaeology, remarks that in the digital world of today, coins are the new kinds of intangible heritage.He says: “Coins are the witnesses that justify our history, they have archaeological and historical value. They provide a window to understanding our past and present, and function as markers to specific historical periods.”Indeed, letters and markings on coins inform us about the king or queen at the time of their minting. The alloys of copper, silver or gold used tell us about the state of the economy of that time and place. The figures on the coin reveal the religious beliefs and influences of the period. <figure><img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb69c7e80680e0af374jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>As for metal coins, the oldest excavated in Nepal are punch-marked ones from the 5th century BCE from Kapilvastu in Lumbini. Currently in display at the <a href="https://numismaticsmuseum.gov.np">National Numismatics Museum</a> in Chhauni, there coins are originally from what is now India and have various symbols ‘punched’ on them. These coins prove that trade had moved beyond the barter system in the region.Historian Satyamohan Joshi writes in his book नेपाली राष्ट्रिय मुद्रा (National Currencies of Nepal) that coinage in Nepal can be divided into three eras starting in the 5th century AD during the Lichhavi, Malla and Shah dynasties in the Valley.The earliest coins found in Kathmandu was issued by the first Lichhavi king, Mandev (pictured above). Minted during his reign from 464AD to 505AD, the obverse has a lion with its paw raised and ‘Sri Mananka’ written above it, while the reverse shows a figure of a goddess seated on lotus with ‘Bhogini’ inscribed on it. The script used is Brahmi, the forerunner of almost all writing systems found in South Asia. The current writing system of Nepal, the Devnagari, is a descendant of Brahmi.The figure of the goddess recalls influence of the ancient Indo-Greek kingdom from the 1st century BCE. All Lichhavi coins are made of copper and have on them the king’s name, the figure of a god or goddess, with flowers, vajra, trisul, kalas, the sun, the moon, or animals such as the bull, lion, cow and elephant. There is consistency in their shapes and sizes, and are handmade, but there is no date inscribed on them.Lichhav kings Gunakamdev and Anshuvarma have similar coins to their predecessors, while coins issued by King Jisnugupta (635 - ?) show a bull on one side, and a vajra or a trisul on the reverse. Satyamohan Joshi takes this as proof of the king’s devotion to both Shiva and the Buddha.Suman Basnet, an avid collector of Nepali coins for the past 20 years, says that in addition to the metal used, the different symbols and depictions are in themselves records of history and the attitudes of people.“These coins are concrete evidence of how people lived in those specific times and places,” he says. “I wanted to delve deep into our history through something concrete and ubiquitous as coins. These coins could have been handled by farmers, merchants, kings, men women and children in the past.”Indeed, the pre-Lichhavi period and the 800 years between Lichhavi and Malla rule in Kathmandu’s history are less well-known largely because there are no coins from those eras. After the Lichhavi period, the oldest coins and Nepal’s first ever silver ones, were issued by King Indra Dev of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/heritage-conservation-outside-kathmandu,3487">Dolakha</a> in 1545AD.Then in 1566 King Mahendra Malla, who built Kathmandu’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-nepali-antiquities-got-to-chicago-museum/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Taleju Temple</a> two years previously, issued silver coins in the Valley. Various historical sources mention that he presented a swan and a hawk to the Mughal Emperor Akbar in Delhi (some say it was Humayun) who in turn granted Mahendra Malla permission to mint silver coins of 6 masa (~5.8 grams) in his name. These coins are also known as Mahendra malli and according to historian Balchandra Sharma, the practice of calling silver coins Mohar began with them.While both the Lichhavi and the Malla coins show cross-cultural influences — Indo-Greek, Mughal and Tibetan, among others, for example — the medieval designs of Malla coins are much more elaborate, with tantric and Vajrayani motifs, and do not depict figures of deities. The coins themselves are either square or circular. Even animals (other than the lion) are absent, and more importantly, the name of the ruler with the year is inscribed legibly, written in Ranjana, Persian or Arabic alphabets. <img width="2059" height="2053" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cb99c7e80680e0af375jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1280" height="1280" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cbd9c7e80680e0af376jpeg.jpg" alt="">Mohar from Pratap Malla's reign. Photo: HERITAGE AUCTIONSSeveral stamped clay and leather 'tokens' with illegible writings on them have been discovered from these times as well, but not enough research has been done regarding their purpose and use as media of exchange, and historians are cautious to call them 'coins' literally. In fact, while coins have been metallic historically, some of the earliest-known tokens of exchange were kaudis, essentially small shells used as circulation currency in Ancient India before metallurgy became widespread. Malla coins contain a confluence of Hindu and Buddhist symbols. Geometry is prominent and each coin is decorated with various artifacts (kalas, vajra, trisul, clubs and astamangal) in triangles, squares, hexagons and octagons. The symbols and letters represented the kings’ names, their queens and family members. They also etched on the metal their interests, their lofty aspirations, with their various epithets. Satyamohan Joshi writes that these aesthetic choices were intended to attract the public’s imagination and devotion towards the rulers and their families. The smallest silver coin in the world is in fact a Malla coin — called Jawa in Newari, or Fukkadam — minted during the reign of Jaya Prakash Malla, the last king of Kathmandu, and weighing 0.004 grams. <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc19c7e80680e0af377jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Malla period ended with Prithvi Narayan Shah’s annexation of the three kingdoms of the Valley. Historian Dinesh Raj Panta says that before Prithvi Narayan, there is hardly any concrete evidence of Shah coins. But after his conquest of the Valley, unified Nepal’s first king began to issue silver mohar in his own name.The first one with Prithvi Narayan Shah’s name inscribed on it had a trisul on the obverse surrounded by ‘Sri Sri Prithvi Narayan Shahdev’ written within gaps made by a swastik on a square. The sun and the moon sat on each top corner and at the bottom was inscribed the date in the Saka calendar: 1692 (1770AD).On the reverse is a wheel at the centre divided in three sections, on which is written ‘Sri Sri Bhawani’. There is a khadga at the centre of this wheel decorated by dots in a bell-like arrangement. Around the edge are letters श्री, श्री, श्री, गो, र, ष, ना and थ (‘Sri Sri Sri Gorakhnath) after the patron deity of the Shah dynasty. <figure><img width="1500" height="745" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc49c7e80680e0af378jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Shah coinage also saw rise in the use of gold, which had begun sporadically in the medieval period. Despite the rare metal, each Shah king or queen has issued at least a couple Nisar gold coins (named after the commemorative medallions the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan issued at his court in the 17th century) in their name, although for special occasions only.As Nepal had no silver mines, the metal had to be imported from Tibet. As per the 1556 treaty Mahendra Malla signed with Tibet, the coins minted in Nepal would be used there as well, allowing Kathmandu Valley’s trade, art and culture to spread and flourish.The full value of Nepali coins in Tibet was set at a single denomination of 15 karma. But when people needed smaller denominations, the coin could be cut into two-third, half and one-third along its petalled design. These were called chotang in Tibet, meaning ‘cut Mohar’ and a few examples dating to the times of Jaya Prakash Malla and Pratap Singh Shah can be found at the National Numismatic Museum. <img width="1125" height="705" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cc79c7e80680e0af379jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1125" height="651" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cca9c7e80680e0af37ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figure><img width="4032" height="3024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1ccd9c7e80680e0af37bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Jaya Prakash Malla had hoped to alleviate the crisis brought by Prithvi Narayan’s blockade of the Valley by minting low quality coins mixed with copper to export to Tibet. When the Shah king wanted to revert to using pure silver coins, the Tibetans asked to have all the older coins replaced as well. The war of annexation had just ended and this would have added further financial burden to the new ruler. The dispute went unresolved, which was in turn inherited by Prithvi Narayan's descendants after his death. Tibet by then had begun to send low quality rock salt to Nepal in retaliation.The Nepali delegation sent to Tibet to resolve these trade issues was rejected, giving the Gorkhali kingdom a pretext to raid rich monasteries north of the border, and in 1788 to invade Tibet itself.The first invasion ended with Gorkhali victory, and Tibet agreed to pay war reparations to Kathmandu and a further Rs50,001 in annual tribute. But after the first year, Tibet stopped paying it and the war continued.During the second invasion, China’s Qing emperor came to the aid of Tibet and chased the Gorkhali forces back over the mountains as far south as Nuwakot, only 30km northwest of Kathmandu. The Sino-Nepal war ended in 1792 with Gorkhali defeat. A treaty was signed at Bhetrawati near Nuwakot Palace, and Nepal started paying a tribute to China in 1792, 1794, 1795, 1823, 1842 and 1865.Following the war, Nepal was no longer able to export its coins to Tibet. A mint was established in Lhasa to supply coins to Tibet which affected the amount of silver coming to Nepal and its economy. The Gorkhalis were also waging a costly war against the East India Company in newly-conquered areas of Garhwal and Kumaon.After <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/beginning-of-the-end-of-the-gorkha-empire/">the Anglo-Gorkha war</a>, rulers in Kathmandu tried to compensate for the shortage of silver coins by prohibiting the import of British coins and turning the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-Pashmina-War,1024">East India Company</a> coins into Nepali ones, but even then the supply was not enough.In fact, ‘Company’ coins because so valuable that some elderly women in remote parts of Nepal can still be found wearing garlands made of East India Company silver coins. <figure><img width="1200" height="1002" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cd09c7e80680e0af37cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Later in early 19th century, the second Rana prime minister, Ranoddip Singh brought water-powered machines to help artists and craftsmen mint consistent-looking coins more efficiently.  These machines would flatten the metal and etch designs on both sides.Ranoddip’s nephew and successor Bhim Shamsher then brought coal-powered machines to mint coins. This gift of industrialisation would mint around 12,000 alloy coins daily in Dharara Taksar in Kathmandu. Today, the mint has shifted to Babermahal and only makes commemorative coins.The designs of Shah coins have been more or less the same since 1770, with similar symbols and motifs. However, when democracy was established, silver-alloy coins were issued that showed King Tribhuvan wearing a Dhaka topi as opposed to a crown against a five-pointed star. <figure><img width="1200" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cd39c7e80680e0af37djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>‘This design, in light of the end of the Rana rule, was meant to signify that the king was no different from a commoner,’ Satyamohan Joshi explains in his book. Tribhuvan’s successors Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra were similarly depicted.When monarchy was formally abolished by the Constituent Assembly in 2008, the figures of the kings were replaced by the डाँफे (Impeyan pheasant) and the cow. Only Re1 and Rs2 were in circulation, and even those are now falling out of use.“In the digital age where all our transactions are invisible in the internet, it is important that focus be given to the cultural, religious, social and political significance of coins,” says Suman Basnet.He compares this changing attitude towards physical money and especially coins to postage stamps: “Perhaps this is what progress looks like, but as we move to a cash-less society, there is a possibility that we lose connection with our heritage and our past. This calls attention to the fact that it is important now more than ever that we retain and remember our history.”The Nepal Numismatic Society holds meetings regularly in Thapathali, and there are more and more younger attendees, meaning that coin-collecting is still popular. “Traditionally, it had been the elderly and the tourists who collected coins,” says Basnet. “But there are a few young people who show great promise.”Says Govinda Neupane: “Coins bring several different avenues of our society together. We can study economics, language, history through coins, and we should preserve them for our future generations to look back and develop their own analyses and understanding.”

Ashish Dhakal

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Losing loose change in Nepal

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

Nepal’s AI-generated election

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

New vs New in Nepal

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

Bye-bye range anxiety

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

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