चौतारा rest stops have long been an integral part of scenic touristic town of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-six-decades-ago">Pokhara </a>but are now rarely seen as the city bursts at the seams. They say inhabitants of Pokhara saw a plane before they saw cars. Indeed, the grass airfield was built in the 1950s, while the Kathmandu highway 20 years later. Before roads, people walked to get around, pausing to rest or even nap under the shade of banyan-pipal trees. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-s-desperation-and-hope">Pokhara airport’</a>s ‘terminal’ in those days was a shady chautara where passengers waited for their flights. The chautara bore silent witness to daily life, whether it was travellers seeking a brief respite from the summer heat or villagers gathering for a chat in the mornings and evenings. But with the roads came vehicles, and then houses started filling up spaces, even farmlands. Pokhara began transforming from a serene village to a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/pokhara-comes-alive-at-night">bustling city</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250719010724_d101fa482441ce67afdf5bc4e4547b334e7662c1cf0a20e9d31a0e8dff66f04b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2147" height="1581" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  The banyan-pipal trees were chopped down to make way for wider intersections and buildings. The once-iconic rest stops that carried Pokhara’s identity had all but vanished. “Building chautara was once considered a religious duty, which is why so many of them were constructed across Pokhara,” says archivist Sunil Ulak. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10927">Ekai Kawaguchi</a>, a Japanese Buddhist monk, who visited Nepal 120 years ago en route to Tibet, documented <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-visitors-in-pokhara-to-admire-view">the landscape of Pokhara</a> and its surroundings. In his book, Three Years in Tibet, he reflects on the natural beauty of the town and its shady trees. A chautara used to be surrounded by ponds, where shepherds would bring their cattle to drink from while they took a nap under the shade. The gentle rustling of leaves in the cool breeze lent a soothing melody as did the chirping of birds, while the insects took refuge in the branches and leaves. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-800-years-ago">Pokhara 800 years ago</a>, Kunda Dixit This ‘nature’s breeze’, as botanist Kalyan Panta puts it, is now history due to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/cost-of-living-in-a-big-city">haphazard urbanisation</a>. “When the wind strikes against one leaf, it creates a domino effect and other leaves start waving as well,” he explains. There were 632 chautara in the city until 1977, and by 2000 the number had fallen to 278. But in some wards the number of trees fell from 55 in 1984 to only five now.&nbsp; The gradual loss of these resting places has meant habitat <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">destruction of birds and insects</a>, it has also damaged the environment and natural beauty of the city.&nbsp; Researcher Jagannath Adhikari’s study showed that infrastructure projects ignored the environment, and concluded that that urbanisation in Pokhara was unsustainable.&nbsp; The destruction continues to this day. Recently, old chaurata in wards 6, 13 and 14 were cleared to make way for a sacrificial ritual. In fact, ward 6 got a permit from the local government to clear its remaining trees.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250719010724_cee1d4faf8376e7ba18b9c7012ea4215b7c3fbf7e0983b0c97005df5567d6de0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Trees of life and living NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  But in wards 13 and 14, the Human Service Foundation cut down some 33 trees for which it is in a dispute with the metropolitan city as there is no unclear jurisdiction regarding who gives the permit. The Kaski Division Forest Office is currently investigating the matter. Elsewhere in ward 19, the ward office had launched ‘मेरो रूख, म काट्छु’ campaign due to an alleged chaos caused by monkeys in the area. The decision was rescinded after an all-around opposition.&nbsp; To be sure, there are policies in place to protect trees such as the Gandaki Province Forestry Act, 2080, and the Regulations, 2081. The province government also introduced an act in 2019 per which no tree, including pipal, silk cotton and other <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/trees-trees?%2F">trees of natural and historical importance</a> shall be damaged, eroded or removed. But the local government, responsible for implementing the Act, is doing the opposite. “If this rapid rate of tree felling continues, neither trees nor chautara will survive for the future generation,” conservationist Ram Bahadur Poudel tells us, adding that old trees are being cleared under the pretext of pruning branches. Interestingly, Ulak notes that Pokhara-8 was called सिमलचौर in the past because there were so many majestic silk cotton trees, but there are very few left, if any, and hence altering the identity of a place. With modernisation, people have questioned the significance of chautara in this day and age. But they still have relevance. Urban centres in Pokhara and Kathmandu are much hotter than the outskirts because of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/in-the-heat-of-the-moment-5xcycyot">urban heat island effect</a>. Says archivist Ulak: “While their original purpose was to provide rest, today they continue to play a crucial role in regulating temperature, beautifying the city, and preserving our environment.”

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Trees of life and living

<figure><img width="1780" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83769c7e80680e067738jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Tundikhel in 1921. Photo: Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya archive.</figcaption></figure>The tragic death tolls from two recent earthquakes in the Greater Himalaya should give Kathmandu residents pause. Kashmir, 2005: more than 73,000. Sichuan, 2008: over 88,000.In urban earthquake emergencies, few things are more critical than open space, but Kathmandu Valley has more people and less usable open space than ever before.A 2020 International Organisation for Migration (IOM) report warns that many of Kathmandu's crucial disaster evacuation spaces have been ‘reduced, encroached, transformed into non-usable areas or heavily built up’, and says the Valley will suffer ‘extreme difficulties’ in the next big earthquake.‘Open spaces have not been recognised as vital city infrastructures that can be of great significance during a disaster," the IOM report says. History has actually shown the importance of Kathmandu's open space time and again. <figure><img width="1800" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b83799c7e80680e067739jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>1934In the afternoon of 15 January 1934, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/01/12/katmandu-was-a-ruin/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a 8.1 magnitude earthquake shook Nepal and north India</a>. The British surgeon Lt-Col C H Smith described that day's devastation:‘The city itself was a dreadful sight. At least one house in five had completely collapsed and very few seemed to have escaped uninjured...every hundred yards or so the narrow streets were blocked with piles of debris twenty feet high over which we had to climb.’ Residents, he noted, fled to Kathmandu's open spaces:‘The inhabitants were behaving splendidly; there seemed to be no panic. The people were all hurrying out of the narrow streets towards the various open squares with what goods and cattles they had been able to save, and were settling down in family groups in these open spaces preparing to pass the night as best they could.’The next day Smith found people ‘all collected in the various squares and open spaces. They were quiet and orderly, sitting in family groups cooking what food they had. They had no shelter, and must have spent a very unpleasant night, as there was a heavy ground frost.’Kathmandu was lucky in one respect, Smith said. Had the earthquake hit at night or early morning, when people are generally indoors, collapsing building would have taken many more lives.  <figure><img width="351" height="234" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b837c9c7e80680e06773ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="779" height="655" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111136/636b837d9c7e80680e06773bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Traditionally, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake/">Kathmandu residents use many types of open spaces</a>: streets, courtyards (bahal/ bahil), neighborhood squares (nani/chuka), palace squares, and open space at town periphery (khyo, buffer zone).These communal open spaces were used as living rooms and work spaces (not for motorcycle parking). The people dried grain, washed clothes, and looked after children at play. But during disasters, they turned to these spaces for safety and shelter. Open space created resilience.At the time, Kathmandu Valley had a tenth of today’s population. People had no problem finding open places to run to.The city's massive growth was decades in the future. Rani Pokhari, British journalist Perceval Landon noted in the 1920s, stood outside the city. The Ashoka Stupa loomed ‘a mile outside the city of Patan in the country’. Boudha sat ‘among the maize fields’. Budhanilkantha was a ‘long journey out’. Times have changed.In 1930, approximately 250,000 people lived in Kathmandu Valley. Today there are nearly 4,000,000 people. After almost a century of hurried, haphazard, rule-flaunting development, life-saving open spaces have been ignored and are now much harder to find.The IOM report reminds us: ‘Open spaces are taken for granted until the need arrives.’2015During the April 2015 Gorkha Earthquake, Valley residents once again turned to the city's open spaces. Thousands of families moved into large open spaces such as the Tundikhel. The parade ground also served as a debris management site. <figure><img width="457" height="270" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83809c7e80680e06773cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Similarly, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/parks-not-parking-lots/">Narayan Chaur</a> became a temporary home for 7,000 people. Five days after the first big quake, 33 open spaces provided refuge to almost 31,000 residents of Kathmandu from 5,500 households.City planners and local activists deserve applause for Narayan Chaur. One of the 83 emergency evacuation sites identified in 2013, it was developed to be multipurpose: as a green public park, a playground for children, and as an emergency shelter in disasters. It pioneered the use of Community Level Search and Rescue (CLSAR) Boxes, containing hammers, rope, saw and many more rescue materials.Open spaces like Tundikhel and Narayan Chaur brought neighbouring families together, saving lives and reviving community bonds. Kathmandu residents also relied upon open spaces as small as highway medians. After an earthquake, all open space counts. <figure><img width="780" height="266" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83829c7e80680e06773djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="430" height="305" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83849c7e80680e06773ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In 2013, government planners identified 83 open spaces for evacuation and refuge during disasters. According to the 2020 IOM report, only about half of these sites are actually usable in an emergency. New small buildings, storage areas, and infrastructure expansion have eaten into important space. Ten sites have been dropped from the list as they now serve other purposes. The report highlights other problems: an almost total lack of on-site water and sanitation facilities, unsuitable terrain, scarce local participation, especially of marginalised groups; low public awareness; and insufficient routine emergency drills. Some local governments did not even realise that spaces under their jurisdiction are designated earthquake evacuation sites.  We also need to plan for multiple hazards: earthquake and floods at the same time, or even simultaneous earthquake, flood, and pandemic. Nepal ranks eleventh and thirtieth worldwide in earthquake and flood vulnerability. This multiple hazard preparedness scenario is not impossible. After the 2015 earthquake, people in Bhaktapur's shelter camps had to flee the gushing Hanumante River. We often call earthquakes ‘natural’ disasters. Doing so allows governments and others to avoid blame. But the real cause of many disasters is not nature, it is poor human planning. Kathmandu Valley residents would do well to remember how they have relied up open space in the past and will need it again in the future. The World Health Organisation recommends 9 sq m of open space per person. Kathmandu has about 0.25 sq m per person. Lalitpur has only 0.06 sq m per person, with poorer people’s access even less. So, neighbourhoods with the least open spaces have to be prioritised. Regular drills are needed everywhere so people know where to go and what to do in a crisis. Says Anil Pokhrel of the National Risk Reduction and Management Authority, “Nepal is one of the fastest urbanising countries in the world, and 2015 was an eye opener. Government had done some work, but it really showed us the meaning of open space.” He stresses the importance of gardens and parking areas, not just the 83 designated open spaces in the Valley. “We need spaces closer to home,” he adds. “We have serious threats to urban space, such as construction and encroachments, but we also have communities like Thimi that are protecting and restoring ponds and cultural heritage as open spaces for emergencies.” Pokhrel says the aftermath of the earthquake six years ago showed how crucial water and toilets are for families. He adds, "Our message to every local government is this: work disaster planning into everything you do." <figure><img width="400" height="270" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83869c7e80680e06773fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="402" height="307" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83879c7e80680e067740jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nilima Thapa Shrestha is an architect and urban planner focused on urban ecological planning and DRR.Tom Robertson, PhD, is an environmental historian who writes about Kathmandu and Nepali history.

Kathmandu loses its open spaces

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151120/636a663d9c7e80680e05996ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1312"/><figcaption>illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>The earthquakes of April 2015 literally shook all of us out of our complacency, and forced us to understand the value of open spaces -- just as after the 1934 earthquake, when tens of thousands of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/leaving-tundhikhel-shelter-camps,2447">Kathmandu residents moved to the open grounds at Tundikhel</a>, or to Lagankhel in Patan.But memories of disasters are short-lived, and in the past five years instead of protecting the last remaining spaces in Kathmandu Valley, we have allowed them to be encroached upon. At the heart of Kathmandu, Tundikhel represents in a microcosm what is happening across urban Nepal as people move into the cities and real estate prices soar.The land mafia, with its political protection, has infiltrated school management committees and taken over most school playgrounds located on prime real estate. The government created a green belt on the Ring Road -- now it is busy chopping down the last remaining jacarandas. The vehicle lobby is obviously stronger than the tree lobby.This newspaper has been <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5876#.Xe8odIMza70">covering the shrinking Tundikhel since 2002</a>, and for the first time printed maps showing the army’s steady encroachment into the open space. Since the government seems to be too slow to act, it is the public and communities that need to be vigilant -- which is why the current #OccupyTundikhel campaign is so important.One good way to begin protecting open spaces like Tundikhel would be to have every local government across the country make an inventory of such spaces in its jurisdiction. These should then be added to a national open space protected list, and legislation passed to ensure no one who eyes them can actually get their hands on these invaluable areas.Former Patan mayor Buddhi Raj Bajracharya set a good example by protecting community spaces during his tenure. A national database could be created and made available online so that no one dares to buy, sell or encroach on these open spaces.Rituals and festivals can be important reasons to save many of the Kathmandu Valley’s open spaces from encroachment.  Tundikhel hosts annual festivals like the feeding of the Gurumapa, Ghoda Jatra, Shivaratri and, more recently, the New Year’s Day showcase of numerous ethnic groups from across Nepal.A published calendar of such events could help enhance the feeling of ownership of open spaces across the country. Disaster preparedness drills in places like Tundikhel could also be pencilled in as regular events.Nepal’s stellar performance in the South Asian Games 2019 could be another reason to invest in saving open spaces. Tundikhel can be dedicated to all future Nepali gold medallists at the Olympics, World Cups and Asian Games. Names of all those who win medals for Nepal could be inscribed on a special monument. With only temporary structures allowed, sports could provide an effective incentive to care for these spaces.At a time when many Nepalis believe the way to prosperity is not education or enterprise but politics, open spaces could be protected as places where Nepalis gather and practise free speech. The name Khula Manch, which means ‘open stage’, has always held a Hyde Park connotation in Kathmandu, even during the days of absolute monarchy. It is a place where anyone can say anything and not face prosecution of any kind. The country should designate Khulla Manch(s) in all 753 municipalities, inspired by the first one at Tundikhel.The oral tradition of the Kathmandu Valley tells us that Tundikhel (Tinkhya) was land bought by wealthy Lhasa traders who needed space to unload and load goods and as a camping ground for porters and pack animals. After the Sugauli treaty of 1816, Muktiyar Bhimsen Thapa used Tundikhel to parade the Nepal Army, in a bid to impress the British of the country’s military might.This great open space has shrunk over time. Rana rulers built Bir Hospital and the military hospital and the Panchayat leaders constructed the post office, the RNAC building, NEA and City Hall. These were all within the boundaries of greater Tundikhel. The road around it was widened during the state visit of Queen Elizabeth II in 1962.From charging ground water to impressing the British envoy and from hosting ancient rituals to New Year’s Day celebrations, Tundikhel has served us well. The temporary bus terminal and school have to be moved immediately and the army has to return to the people what rightfully belongs to them. After the next earthquake, let us not be forced to say: “I told you so.”And let us not listen to economists and finance experts who tell us we need to monetise everything. Not everything should be valued in cash. Let Tundikhel be what Tundikhel was. End of the debate.Anil Chitrakar is President of <a href="http://www.siddharthinc.com/">Siddharthinc</a>

Anil Chitrakar

Let Tundikhel be what Tundikhel was

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mvi-MdNBArAIt is 6AM on an overcast monsoon morning. Despite dark clouds threatening rain, people are already at Narayan Chaur, some jogging, others walking with umbrellas, a group is doing yoga on mats in the grass.The children are on swings and slides, and the elderly amble slowly along the stone paths.For a city known for its <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/wide-open-spaces-kathmandu" target="_blank" rel="noopener">congestion and lack of parks</a>, Narayan Chaur stands out as a model for urban renewal in which a community got together to restore an open space for public use.Spread over a hectare, in the heart of Kathmandu, and surrounded by new office towers, the Nandi Keshwor Garden (as it is officially called) provides an oasis of green amidst the concrete chaos surrounding it. Until five years ago, this was a smelly garbage dump, infested with drug dealers. It got to a point where people from the neighbourhood would not walk out after dark.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0519c7e80680e0359cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>GREEN REVIVAL: Narayan Chaur, officially known as Nandi Keshwor Bagaicha, is a green oasis of calm in the middle of grey Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The person most responsible for Naryan Chaur’s transformation is the artist and writer Narendra B Shrestha, who understood the cultural significance of the Nandi Keshwor temple. During the reign of Rana Bahadur Shah in the later 18th century, flowers from the garden where the park now stands used to be offered to the temple.One of the few people who helped Shrestha in his park rennovation project since the beginning was Prabighya Basnet. A forestry and environmental studies student, Basnet was appalled at the state of the historic site and consulted Shrestha about how to restore it. Basnet runs a farm and is the founder of Khali Khutta, a company which produces eco-friendly, all-natural products. She used her knowledge of trees and plants to start greening the periphery – and that effort grew into an initiative to reclaim the area.Also read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resurrecting-bagmati-the-river" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Resurrecting the river</a>, Oskar Frelin“We could do it because it was a community effort, and it is proof that it is possible to transform other such spaces in the Valley to make Kathmandu cleaner and greener,” says Basnet, who is now working to revive other open spaces that have become parking lots or garbage dumps.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0549c7e80680e0359cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some are already following the example of Narayan Chaur. The Vijay Park in Dhumbarahi is an initiative of The Vaidya Organisation which has transformed another garbage dump along the Dhobi Khola into a park. Along the Bagmati River numerous organisations have come together to turn the filthy banks into parks.Narendra B Shrestha agrees that the park would not have been possible without the Naxal-Narayan Chaur community and the community police being involved, and his initiative which brought together the entire community, proves that change is possible if there is will. “The government was not involved, it was the people coming together to restore the space, and to manage its maintenance,” he adds.Work on the restoration began in 2012 and took in factors like selection of tree species and disaster management preparedness, while ensuring that the drug pushers did not return.Architect Prabal Thapa was enlisted to design the park, and corporate figures like tourism entrepreneur Yogi Shakya chipped in with seed money. By 2013, the master plan was complete and presented to the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA), and the park was opened to the public a few months before the earthquake in April 2015.Fully equipped to cope with the disaster with safety boxes, six water recharge wells and solar lights, Narayan Chaur provided refuge for hundreds of people after the earthquake.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0579c7e80680e0359ccjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“People these days are focused on commercialising public areas, putting up high rises and not enough importance is paid to community open spaces, not just for recreation and aesthetics but also for safety in times of crisis,” Shrestha adds.Kathmandu’s rapid urbanisation without proper planning is a slow-moving disaster in itself. Protecting green spaces is therefore not only socially and environmentally necessary, but can also bring economic benefits. Land and rental prices have soared in Naxal after the Nandi Keshwor Park was opened.The park was handed over by the government to the community to maintain and manage, something quite rare in Nepal. Learning from Nandi Keshwor, the government has come up with a list of 83 other sites which can be turned into community parks and safe spaces during times of emergency.One of them is Tinkune, on the airport road, which has been an eyesore for more than 20 years. Narayan Chaur has shown how to go about it: stop waiting for the government to do something, get the community involved.Also Read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5876#.W1Gta9UzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shrinking Tundikhel</a>, Hemlata Rai<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9101#.W1GtuNUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Godavari green</a>, Alok Tungbahamphey

Parks, not parking lots

We were used to getting stuck in Kathmandu’s notorious traffic with gas fumes and horns blaring. We are still stuck in traffic, but now it is mostly the quiet hum of EVs, and street-level air is noticeably cleaner. Alongside Norway, Nepal has the highest combustion-to-EV conversion rates in the world. And we are not even a middle-income country yet. How did we get here?&nbsp; For the first time in Nepal’s history, 2025 saw an unprecedented turn of events: two back-to-back auto shows a week apart in August, independent of each other. This was timed for the warm up to the Dasain season. &nbsp;&nbsp; The first auto show 6-11 August was the <a href="https://naimanepal.org/mobility-expo" target="_blank">NAIMA Mobility Expo 2025 </a>by the newly established Nepal Automobile Importers and Manufacturers Association which saw 35 new models, many of them EVs with 50 participating brands like Toyota, BYD, Hyundai, Kia, MG, Mahindra, Omoda &amp; Jaecoo, Proton and Leapmotor.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025101711108_d8c03f5141f0086814d866543af4d95310f340a7191363e4705aedda8e4b73d0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1770" height="1097" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The exhibition had a strong focus on two-wheelers aimed at affordable and easy mobility in a town now known for long traffic jams (see report). NAIMA attracted a record 100,000 visitors in six days.&nbsp; The second one was the Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association Auto Show 2025 (<a href="https://youtu.be/emSd0mUuMjU" target="_blank">NADA</a>) to address the growing demands for cars and two-wheelers. It was a natural expression of new market forces at work, on one hand, and popular taste, on the other — one influencing the other.&nbsp; This year’s NADA Auto Show was its 17th iteration, and carried a hefty legacy: exhibiting a contemporary lineup from manufacturers such as Tata, Suzuki, Xpeng and Nammi, but also classics for vintage car lovers like the 1928 Ford Model A and a rare 1955 Austin Princess Dm4 sedan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025101711108_dda7d264ddb12448cc10d9b1cb699632eee975741fc4c56055e4df904579c34f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1381" height="848" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  It also showcased the Deepal eVTOL (a 2-seater drone), and a humanoid robot with dog. Curious onlookers at Bhrikuti Mandap thronged the show with footfall crossing 170,000.&nbsp; Earlier this year, I had traveled to attend India's largest auto show, the <a href="https://youtu.be/OgIIvXx6yOM?si=zNmMgklzCJpagTye" target="_blank">Bharat Mobility Global expo</a> in January in New Delhi. It was part of a <a href="https://youtu.be/GT6LBKiJvyg?si=r7YaxahjSAnsIfBY" target="_blank">roadtrip</a> from one capital to another with BYD Nepal on a Dolphin. The journey took three days through Bhairawa and then the Lucknow-Agra Expressway, covering a distance of 1200km one way.&nbsp; The drive through the horrid Narayanghat-Butwal corridor alone was testimony that EVs are no longer fragile and could handle a beating. And while both Nepal's economy pales in comparison to India, it was evident that the private passenger segment is well on its way to electrification. More than 70% of all vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric. Sales representatives are unanimous: inquiries for EVs are at an all-time high and overshadow demand for ICE (Internal Combustion Engine) vehicles. Besides four-wheelers, a fast-growing proportion of scooters were also electric.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017111016_e4cd988ca915ddd283a86d48fac332f22f98ff776b3d22391e10156ad56d7a1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1389" height="863" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  I have spent the last two years <a href="https://youtu.be/256YQa37Ol8?si=Sv1wQ8EdvgMCiTM_" target="_blank">reviewing</a> many of these EVs. The days of batter-powered cars being small toy cars, with sub-par build quality and the range of golf carts have long gone.&nbsp; Fit and finishing in both Chinese and Indian EVs are comparable to established brand names even in Japanese and European markets. But most significantly for us in Nepal, battery technology and range have made inter-city travel on our highways imaginable. The media sometimes portrays Nepal as a prime testing/dumping ground for EVs due to lack of regulation and the proximity to the world’s largest EV exporter (China) and our tough geographical conditions. That is just a part of the story. What actually stands out is the incredible appetite for risk among Nepali buyers.&nbsp; Since the Covid pandemic charging infrastructure has spread across the country. My early trips between Kathmandu and Pokhara saw the possibility of topping up with just one charging gun at the <a href="https://rsr.com.np/" target="_blank">Riverside Springs Resort in Kurintar</a> – and I would have to wait in line, or the charger simply would not be working.&nbsp; These days, by the time I cross Kurintar from Koteswor in my Kona, I will have passed at least 10 charging stations with multiple guns. &nbsp; On my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">YouTube reviews</a>, people from across the globe ask about range and handling EVs on poor road conditions like ours. The occasional skeptics also leave comments like: ‘If this works in the higher altitudes and mountainous roads of Nepal, then it should be a breeze down here in the flats of Australia and/or hills around Auckland!’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251017111016_8b4fbe59884538849be6428eb2ce9249627a8970ed9ef4cd3c792682bf26dbed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1139" height="787" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal"> </figure>  SATURATION? However, both the NAIMA and NADA auto show also confirmed that we could be hitting a peak EV. From having just one car in one budget segment, there are now multiple alternatives stretching from the entry of below Rs3 million to the premium and high-end Rs 10 million price point.&nbsp; Furthermore, the price wars on EVs that started in China a year ago have also trickled across to Nepal. Models such as the <a href="https://youtu.be/3wFN2I81Tq0?si=T6L4SAfRpoyNNvYC" target="_blank">MG S5</a>, Nammi Vigo, BYD Atto 2 (and 1) and <a href="https://youtu.be/y214kWbWTc4?si=bIevanDZEPQdkEs4" target="_blank">Deepal S05</a> saw aggressive pricing schemes and discounts that disrupted pre-existing quotas. Consumers can suddenly afford a lot more cars, and travel a lot further for a considerably smaller price tag.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2025101711108_276afec1bdbd37497572939a4eada4bef74c9d075cd5851892c4dd1985edb9c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1953" height="1107" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  However, booking numbers at both auto shows did not necessarily translate into actual deliveries. The fact remains that almost 80% of registered vehicles in Nepal are still two-wheelers, and GDP per capita stands at just $1500 — among the lowest in the world.&nbsp; This means that early first-adopters are first-time buyers, and the remaining customers in the market are more skeptical and less willing. But there are also those that are unlikely to consider the EV suitable to travel to off-road rural areas. For the average Nepali family, upgrading or purchasing a new car is no small decision. It happens in five years or more with resale values being a big determinant. The EV boom may be reaching saturation.&nbsp; Both NADA and NAIMA shows drove home the message that Nepal’s transport sector is on an electric fast-track, but the road ahead will be bumpy.&nbsp; Soon after the shows, the glacial debris flow on the Bhote Kosi knocked out the Rasuwa-Kerung border with China, and earlier landslides had already blocked the Koradi checkpoint. Manufacturers are now using the less convenient Korala border in Mustang. BYD, Leapmotor and Omoda &amp; Jaecoo have begun rerouting their vehicles to make up for delivery deadlines.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2025101711108_62fd70a476656062005959c247b38178d8efabf8570c73929295c0a103ff4013" data-rendition-name="original" width="1438" height="1031" loading="lazy" alt="Electric cars in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Although the distance from the capital to the Korala border (470km) is four times longer than from Rasuwa (128km) &nbsp;and Tatopani (112km), it is still considered faster and more cost effective than shipping via India using sea routes.&nbsp; And then Nepal was engulfed in turmoil after the youth-led protests of 8-9 September and its aftermath. Many automobile showrooms around Thapathali including Tata, Hyundai and CG were vandalised and torched.&nbsp; Sushila Karki leads a caretaker government till elections are held in March, and the unsettled situation will affect the economy and investment climate as well as the automobile sector. Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Youtube</a>, <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@casuallyannoyeddriver" target="_blank">Tiktok</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/casuallyannoyeddriver/" target="_blank">IG</a>, and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Is Nepal reaching peak EV?

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

Nepali runners score breakthroughs

Edmund Hillary once said that the Sherpa were the most researched, dissected and blood-taken ethnic group in the world. Living below the highest mountains in the world, the trans-Himalayan traders were genetically adapted to high altitude, their culture spanning both sides of the border, and with average per capita income of the Khumbu five times that of the rest of Nepal. But there are other less-known Sherpas in Nepal’s periphery: in the Langtang, Barun and Rolwaling valleys.&nbsp; Norwegian mountaineer Jon Gangdal’s latest book, Guilt &amp; Glory: Climbing with Sherpas is about his deep personal and four-decade long association with his climbing partners from Rolwaling. Guilt &amp; Glory reads more like Gangdal’s memoir and the mountains he has climbed, but it is also a tribute to the selfless friendship with fellow climbers from Nepal. It also exposes the inherently asymmetric relationship between expeditions and their employees in the Himalaya. Earlier mountaineering narratives overlooked the role of Nepal’s climbing guides in putting their clients on summits. But in recent years there has been increasing recognition that most expeditions would just not be possible without them. SUMMIT SUPPORT And that is where Gangdal’s book fits in: between the glory of a successful summit and guilt about not giving due credit to the sacrifice and professionalism of a people whose surname and ethnicity is now a synonym for support staff of G-7 Summits. After failure and tragedy on a 1994 expedition on Everest West Ridge in which his climbing partner Mingma Norbu was killed in an avalanche, Gangdal is tormented by guilt and supports his widow Ang Sona and her family. ‘The Art of Succeeding When You Have Failed’ was the title of his lecture series in which Gangdal became an outspoken critic of military-style assaults on Himalayan peaks, and self-seeking climbers on them. In a comment he wrote for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/everest-dangerous-place-to-work,1316" target="_blank">Nepali Times in #704 in 2014 </a>after an avalanche killed 16 Nepali guides on the Khumbu Icefall, he argued that equality and safety of climbing Sherpas could only happen ‘if we turn the whole Everest pyramid upside down’. He wrote: ‘We can feel nothing but grief and pain with the families of the brave boys who gave their lives for … for what? For the glory of their nation, like at war? For the glory of their attention-seeking sahibs who have had the highest mountains in the world as their playground for more than a century? Or for what we all have to do: our daily duty to feed ourselves and our families.’ Guilt &amp; Glory expands on that theme, weaving in his climbing adventures. He realises that the egalitarian Norwegian approach in decision-making does not work in the East’ where the prevalent notion is that a leader should lead. Gangdal notes that with a few tweaks, the twain of East and West can indeed meet. In 1996 on the north face of Everest while a major tragedy was unfolding on the Nepal side, Gangdal tries to ‘play Sherpa’ hauling twice the load of his Sherpa companions and is knocked out with exhaustion and has to abandon the climb. Climbers have often justified not helping fellow climbers in distress in the Death Zone saying that ethics at sea level do not apply at eight thousand metres high on a mountain. But Gangdal quotes expedition doctor Morten Rostrup: ‘When you pass climbers who are sick or in danger on the way to the summit, you should always do something … continuing to the summit shows a lack of humanity.’ Foreign climbers are on top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and in a monastery below Manaslu, Gangdal once held a long one-sided discussion with the abbott on why people’s basic needs need to be met before higher aspirations can be pursued. The asymmetry in the relation between sahibs and porters is less glaring than it used to be. Many mountaineers have struck life-long friendships with bonds with their employees and their families in Nepal. And, as Gangdal writes, ‘Education … has helped reduce the asymmetry between the Sherpa people and us foreign climbers.’ Unlike other books about Himalayan mountaineering &nbsp;this one focuses on the Rolwaling, the less visited and wilder valley in the shadow of Gauri Shankar, and protected by the goddess Tseringma.&nbsp; Noted Rolwaling Sherpas include Chhiring Dorje who made the heroic rescue on K2 in 2008, Dawa Yangzum, the first Nepali woman to summit all 14 eight-thousanders, Tamting Sherpa who has also climbed all 8,000m peaks, TGemba Tsheri who became the youngest person to climb Everst at age 16 in 2001. <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/power-of-the-periphery/deep-ecologists/75228182BC490F8AC31C8E4C8335F435" target="_blank">Rolwaling also has a strong Norwegian connection</a>, it is where <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jan/15/obituary-arne-naess" target="_blank">Arne Næss</a> who coined the term ‘deep ecology’, and mountaineer and eco-philosopher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/norway-nepal-a-love-story" target="_blank">Sigmund Kvaløy</a> did their research and exploration in 1971.&nbsp; There is one interesting tidbit with contemporary non-mountaineering relevance from Guilt &amp; Glory: Næss and Kvaløy’s Rowaling research was bankrolled by Arne’s brother Erling Dekke Næss, a Norwegian shipping magnate. But Rolwaling was a restricted area in those days because of Khampa activity, and the Norwegians approached Prince Gyanendra who granted them permission in return for setting up the Royal Nepal Shipping Corporation. Gyanendra became chair of that controversial company and Erling Næss was adviser. Guilt &amp; Glory is not just about mountaineering, and is sprinkled with anecdotes and encounters with everything from Maoists to yetis. It is written with compassion and a deep respect for Nepal and its people.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Guilt &amp; Glory book"> </figure>

West meets East in the Himalaya

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