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

Who is accountable for teacher-student relationships?

Chronic winter drought and decades of unmanaged forest biomass have turned wildfires into a systemic risk for Nepal. We need to re-learn to convert fire fuel in forests into fertilizer for crops.&nbsp; On 11 January, a huge forest fire spread rapidly from China into the forests of Sindhupalchok, 40km northeast of Kathmandu. The newly-opened Tatopani border checkpoint was closed. Smoke from the fire spread across central Nepal, blocking the sun.&nbsp; The fire burnt itself out within a few days, but the border stayed closed for longer. Such wildfires were once rare in mid-winter, and traditionally peaked between March and May as temperatures rose ahead of pre-monsoon showers. What is unsettling is not just the early onset of the fires, but also their scale. This shift is not accidental, the pattern has been unfolding over years due to winter drought, weakening post-monsoon moisture, and the accumulation of dry forest biomass as Nepal’s forest area doubled in the past 30 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026022009024_5f4a84bb389f9b56f4fa47d4f694adcd464eb13b192d184af0f1eb20efdfeebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1055" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image of Nepal with red dots signifying fires in February 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  Together, these factors have made forests tinder dry in spring, just waiting for a spark. Nepal has experienced winter drought in eight of the past ten years (this winter was an exception). Winter rain and snow at higher elevations play a decisive role in maintaining surface moisture, recharging shallow aquifers, and keeping forest floors damp enough to resist ignition. When winter rains fail, forests dry out months earlier than usual. Satellite-based assessments show a steep decline in surface moisture across the middle mountains of Nepal, particularly in areas with dense forest cover but limited undergrowth management. Springs that once flowed year-round are now seasonal.&nbsp; More than half of the springs in the mid-hills have either dried up or show significantly reduced discharge, a trend closely linked to declining soil moisture and disrupted recharge zones. Dry soil does not just threaten water security — it helps the vegetation ignite. FUEL WITHOUT FUNCTION For decades, Nepal’s forests have been accumulating dry leaf litter, fallen branches, shrubs, and deadwood. Historically, this biomass was not considered waste because rural households regularly collected leaf litter for livestock bedding, which was later composted and returned to farms as fertilizer.&nbsp; Forest floors were therefore relatively clean while the mulch fertilized farms. That relationship has steadily eroded due to outmigration, changes in livestock systems, restrictions on access to community forests, and the growing availability of chemical fertilisers.&nbsp; Community forests across the country today are thick with dry twigs, branches and leaves — a highly combustible carpet. When prolonged drought dries this biomass, even a small spark from a herder’s intentional fire, a cigarette, or lightning strike can trigger massive fires.&nbsp; Under such conditions, the question is no longer whether fires will occur, but how intense and widespread they will be. Forest fires are often framed as an environmental issue concerning trees and wildlife. In reality, their impact extends far beyond forest boundaries.&nbsp; Smoke travels faster and further than flames. Fine particulate matter, especially harmful PM2.5, spreads across countries. In recent fire seasons, air quality monitors in Kathmandu have recorded air quality levels several times higher than WHO guidelines. The smoke adds to Kathmandu’s own pollution and lingers for days.&nbsp; Flights are cancelled or delayed in cities like Pokhara, and poor visibility blocks mountain views affecting tourism. Health facilities report spikes in respiratory complaints, particularly among children and the elderly. Just as wildfires have multi-sectoral causes, the impact of forest fires go beyond forests. One critical dimension remains largely invisible: the soil. The fires cause silent damage beneath the ash, and the emergency does not end when the flames subside. Beneath the surface, soil suffers long-term damage. Organic matter burns away, beneficial microorganisms die. The soil structure weakens, reducing the land’s ability to absorb and retain water. The scorched earth is more prone to erosion, increasing the risk of floods and landslides once the rains return.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022009028_cc54ff056b2cac8b789cfd4d11afef9eaf943368e47b99aabd57c7b63b776cf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1717" height="2143" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Wildfire risk map based on the validated Random Forest model (a) Overall reclassified wildfire risk map of Nepal, (b) District level wildfire risk, and (c) Municipality wildfire risk map.</figcaption> </figure>  In many of Nepal’s agricultural areas, soil organic matter levels are already below 2% -- lower than what is needed for resilient and productive farming. Repeated fires push these levels even lower, undermining soil fertility and forcing farmers to rely more heavily on chemical fertilisers, unleashing a vicious cycle of higher costs and food insecurity.&nbsp; Climate breakdown is often cited as the primary culprit, and rightly so. Rising temperatures and erratic rainfall have intensified fire risk. But fires in Nepal are increasingly the result of human intervention.&nbsp; The response of all three levels of government remains too little, and too reactive. Each year, resources are mobilised to extinguish fires once they have already spread. Far less attention is paid to managing the fuel load within forest undergrowth that makes such fires inevitable.&nbsp; Meanwhile, forestry and agriculture policies are not coordinated, missing opportunities to address shared challenges. Forest fires are not natural disasters, but predictable outcomes of governance choices. National plans and climate pledges set an ambitious target of raising soil organic matter to 4%. The science behind this goal is solid. Higher organic matter improves water retention, stabilises yields, reduces fertiliser dependence, and enhances long-term food security. What remains unclear is the pathway.&nbsp; Where will the organic inputs come from? How will they be processed and applied safely at scale? Without practical answers, the 4% target risks remaining aspirational rather than achievable. Forest undergrowth can be turned into fuel and fertiliser. Biochar is produced by heating organic biomass in a low-oxygen environment, converting it into a stable form of carbon that can be added to soil.&nbsp; When properly produced and applied, it improves soil structure, enhances water and nutrient retention, supports microbial activity, and locks carbon into the ground for decades. In Nepal biochar addresses two interconnected problems: reducing the accumulation of combustible biomass in forests, lowering fire risk, while simultaneously rebuilding depleted soils. In doing so, it restores the broken link between forest management and agriculture.&nbsp; Done well, biochar is not merely an environmental intervention. It is an economic one, with potential to create local employment, reduce farmers’ input costs, and support climate-smart agriculture. But biochar propagation depends on improved governance. If promoted as isolated pilots or short-term projects, it will fail. What is needed is institutional clarity: standards for production and safety, quality control mechanisms, farmer extension services, and coordination across local, provincial, and federal levels.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026022009028_e6e2218f38fae5b1fe81d9f99078fe01f58d04b4b3b2c41447f017c3f838a1d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfire season NT"> <figcaption>Freshly prepared biochar under control tempature (350-600°C).</figcaption> </figure>  Community forest user groups could manage biomass collection. Local governments then support safe, decentralised production units. Agricultural extension services guide farmers on application, linked to soil testing and monitoring. Such an approach would reduce fire risk, improve soil health, and generate rural livelihoods.&nbsp; Poorly produced biochar or contaminated feedstock can harm soils and human health. Without training, standards, and oversight, good intentions can backfire. Nepal needs to move beyond fire-fighting to fire prevention and confront the structural causes that make them a growing risk. It is not just a technical choice – it is one that demands political will from newly-elected leaders after March. &nbsp;&nbsp; Ngamindra Dahal is a hydrometeorologist with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation specialising on climate and water management issues.&nbsp;

RED ALERT: Get ready for the wildfire season

Early on Monday morning, a bus from Pokhara to Kathmandu plunged off the highway in Dhading killing 19 passengers. Two weeks ago, another bus fell into the Tama Kosi in Manthali, killing 12. A few days before that a bus crash in Baitadi killed 13 people.&nbsp; In just the month before Nepal's election, more than 50 people have been killed in road traffic accidents. Most of these cannot be called 'accidents'. They are a direct result of poorly maintained highways and lack of enforcement of traffic discipline. Political parties in Nepal have rolled out their election manifestos, and voters are once again presented with a flood of promises. Page after page, these documents list megawatts and microcredit, highways and airports, jobs and investment. In these manifestos, growth is quantified, projects itemised, revenue forecast — and there are even threats to beat up contractors who do not finish their jobs. But when everything is declared a priority the stale promises are empty. The voter is left confused as to where the party’s loyalties really lie. Will any of these plans and pledges actually ever materialise and help Nepalis live longer, safer, healthier lives? The main job of any accountable government is to protect its citizens, not so much from foreign enemies but from domestic mismanagement. And this means the most basic test the new government should be made to pass is whether it can ensure basic well-being and protection for all its people. The problems of safety, health, and survival remain unresolved for most Nepalis, and are quietly eroding their lives. In the past year alone, the country’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/roadkill">roads and highways claimed more than 2,300</a> lives. An estimated 41,000 Nepalis die each year directly because of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-invisible-is-more-dangerous">air pollution</a>, and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/air-pollution-killing-season-starts-early">lifespans are lessened by 3.4 years</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health">Non-communicable diseases</a> now account for well over half of total deaths in the country. And even where survival has improved, deprivation remains. Chronic malnutrition continues to haunt communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mass-migration-from-muktikot">Nepal’s western mountains</a> despite progress in maternal and child health.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260223130240_4f4ef83a31c3c4ae36ecdffb33a355e2fa3de9e98244b840a895af2d95c35ac0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  These are the lived realities of most Nepalis, and it is here that development can deliver its most immediate returns. A rising GDP, in and of itself, does not make roads safer, clean polluted air, or provide enough nutrition to children. Such outcomes demand intentional, granular policies that confront the specific, everyday problems shaping people’s lives.&nbsp; Macroeconomic growth, trade and investment are important, but these alone cannot guarantee improvements health and safety. The word ‘growth’, after all, is also synonymous with malignancy. Economic progress and human protection are correlated only when governance deliberately links them. Impact on life is the unit in which ordinary Nepalis calculate progress. What is needed, then, is a governing philosophy measurable in these same terms: a ‘life-first’ standard where every policy, budget, and reform can be understood and judged by its impact on protecting and extending human life. Such a ‘life-first’ approach would scrutinise three aspects of every policy. First, whether the policy prevents loss of life. A death is termed preventable if better, more coordinated response systems and regulations could have avoided it (vaccines, drugs, road safety, clean drinking water). A newly built six-lane highway <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/highway-accidents-are-no-accident-in-nepal">can be a death trap</a> due to poor design or lax enforcement of safety rules. If neonatal deaths continue in a district despite hospitals being present, or if malnutrition claims lives in predominantly agricultural regions, they too are failures. Preventable deaths also cluster where accountability is less direct. Just last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/suicides-a-pandemic-within-a-pandemic">Nepal recorded 6,866 suicides</a>, with nearly 20 lives lost every day, yet these deaths fail to prompt any serious examination of governance. The same holds for fatalities linked to domestic or communal violence, alcohol and substance misuse, or ‘natural’ disasters, which register as ‘tragedies without remedy’ rather than as outcomes policy can influence. But when avoidable loss of life recurs at scale, isolated incidents become patterns, and patterns reveal systemic neglect. Saving lives, however, is only the first step, and what matters just as much is the quality of years lived. Nepal’s life expectancy now stands at 71 years, yet many citizens spend years in avoidable disability, untreated chronic illness, or mental distress. A life- first government must ask not only whether people live, but whether they thrive. Are citizens able to pursue education, work, and family life without fear of preventable harm? Do communities have access to clean air and water, nutritious food, and basic healthcare? Can a teenager anywhere in Nepal imagine a future not foreclosed by premature marriage, or untreated depression?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260223130240_157d72b80b82a07699b6bffbb30036b86f0f767a5674cc3db3d5c20343442940" data-rendition-name="original" width="2529" height="1427" loading="lazy" alt="A life-first manifesto for Nepal NT"> </figure>  Thriving requires policies that prevent suffering and promote well-being in addition to ensuring survival.&nbsp; Finally, governance must consider graceful aging. Elderly Nepalis should not be left to navigate disease, poverty, or isolation alone. Social systems, healthcare, and community support must enable their continued participation and dignified well-being. Adopting this three-layered standard would gradually reorient how success of any new government is defined. Transportation would be judged by fatalities reduced on the roads. Electricity generation would be measured by whether households can switch from firewood dependence to smoke-free electric stoves.&nbsp; Increase in annual rice harvest must translate into better nutrition, reducing the prevalence of chronic diseases like diabetes. Accountability must follow problems rather than stop at Singha Darbar. Only then will politicians and bureaucrats eventually recognise that their work converges on the same human endpoint. Critics will argue that economies are complex, trade-offs are inevitable, and that governance cannot be reduced to a single metric.But, as Acemoglu and Robinson show in their book <a href="https://ia801506.us.archive.org/27/items/WhyNationsFailTheOriginsODaronAcemoglu/Why-Nations-Fail_-The-Origins-o-Daron-Acemoglu.pdf">Why Nations Fail</a>, the key difference between prosperity and poverty lies in inclusive institutions that empower citizens and create broad incentives for well-being.&nbsp; Extractive institutions concentrate power and wealth in the hands of a few while keeping the majority trapped in neglect. Nepal’s governance has remained a striking example of extraction. If lawmakers in the new Parliament continue to resist changes that would save and improve the lives of ordinary citizens, the same systemic rot will persist for generations to come. A life-first mentality can cut through this inertia by clarifying the moral centre of governance and reminding policymakers that behind every policy failure lies human cost. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-hunger">Every mother in Bajura</a> with a child going hungry at night, every farmer in the Madhes unable to afford medical care, and every family that has lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-kidneys-to-save-nepal">a migrant son to kidney failure</a> understands the true <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/dirty-dangerous-difficult-and-dehydrating">value of a life saved</a>. Life is the one metric that transcends ideology, ethnicity, and region. Centering governance on this single, focused metric, can shift an election from a contest of rhetoric to a contest of evidence. Which party ensured access to safe water and basic healthcare? Which made work at home and abroad safer and less exploitative. Which measurably extended healthy years of life for ordinary citizens? Health is wealth. By improving the healthy lifespan of citizens economic prosperity would follow naturally. A ‘life-first’ governance model would therefore compel Nepal to address the underlying structural failures across all sectors, rather than merely alleviating their symptoms. The GenZ protest that toppled the government last September was, at its core, a demand for accountability and a rejection of politics as usual. But as the country edges closer to the polls, that clarity has started to dissipate. Parties are now echoing the language of reform, but the public discourse remains dominated by promises that feel disconnected from Nepal’s most immediate and basic priorities. Every preventable death, every hungry child, and every neglected elder becomes a direct failure of governance and a moral debt the state must answer for. It is how we can make sure we keep the next government in check. The writers are Nepali GenZ students of biomedical engineering at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University.

Nepal’s life or death election

Party flags and banners wave from electric poles, houses and e-rickshaws are festooned with posters. Madhes Province is in the grip of election fever, and in a tour through four of its districts, there is the sense that any efforts by mainstream political parties at reforms have come too little too late. Among the banners, the sky blue of the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/new-vs-new-in-nepal"> RSP is more prominent </a>here this time, and the rallying cry across the country for new and improved leadership is echoed on the ground. “For the people around here, whatever these old leaders are saying has become just noise,” says a lassi shop operator in Janakpur, waving a dismissive hand at flags with the NC’s tree symbol across the street. In Janakpur, UML nominee Raghubir Mahaseth was barred from canvassing door-to-door. Campaign posters of the mainstream parties have been torn from walls and replaced with RSP posters.&nbsp; In Inarwari village of Rautahat in the Madhes heartland, local elected officials whose parties have been merged into the Nepali Communist Party hope to retain enough supporters this election. But not many residents say they would vote for its candidate. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026022005024_a793e3a19cbd536fde50708c4a41b8b0d39a4716c6973feddad889097b655641" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> <figcaption>Photos: SHRISTI KARKI</figcaption> </figure>  A first-time voter in Sarlahi’s Haripur is home on a semester break from medical school in Kathmandu, and is waiting excitedly for 5 March. “You can’t really say out loud whom you’re voting for around here,” he says, as he mimes ringing a bell. “It is time for someone new to be in-charge." In the highway town of Bardibas, an elderly teashop owner says that all she hears are calls for घण्टी, the RSP’s bell symbol. “After all, bells are rung in the house of gods,” she says. “It seems like the right choice.” The RSP wave sweeping the nation after the GenZ movement is seen in Madhes, and the PR ballots might reflect that, notes political analyst Tula Narayan Shah.&nbsp; “But the socio-cultural networks, organisational setup, and legacy of democratic movement of traditional parties might still give them a fighting chance on the first past the post ballot,” he says. &nbsp;“The door-to-door campaign style of candidates has always been more prominent in Madhes than elsewhere.”&nbsp; Villages like Dhankaul in Sarlahi-4 where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grand-split-in-nepal-s-grand-old-party">Gagan Thapa</a> of the Nepali Congress (NC) is running against incumbent Amresh Singh, is an NC stronghold. Singh won the election here twice before in 2013 and 2017 when he was an NC leader, and still had goodwill among NC voters when he ran and won as an independent during the 2022 election. “I voted for him twice before when he was in the NC, but he did not do anything for this or other villages. Once he is elected, he has not set foot here,” says Rajiv Yadav, a voter in Dhanakul. “The RSP will get more votes here than last time, but Gagan is sure to win. This village will vote for him.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026022005024_26691bb5a37edf705cc197a632d0bf032f984079a838d31bcd943bc0b9c97ff3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  Madhes is in the spotlight this election because two prime ministerial candidates have focused their attention in the region. Balen Shah began his campaign in Janakpur (main picture, left) in January as a ‘Son of Madhes’, and Gagan Thapa chose Sarlahi-4 as his constituency over Kathmandu-4, from where he has been elected since 2013.&nbsp; The Madhes has always been the battleground for Nepal’s electoral politics, and candidates from here, like Krishna Prasad Bhattarai from Parsa, Pushpa Kamal Dahal from Siraha, Jhala Nath Khanal from Sarlahi, and Madhav Kumar Nepal from Rautahat, have all been prime ministers. Despite electing politicians to high office in Kathmandu, districts of Madhes have consistently ranked low in development and service delivery indicators, especially in basic healthcare and education. Socio-economic inequalities stemming from a lack of opportunities has also meant that Madhes districts have the highest rate of out-migration in the country.&nbsp; What is different this time is that the people of the province have a Madhesi prime ministerial candidate who will represent them in national politics, and the main competition ultimately will be between the NC and RSP prime ministerial candidates. Interestingly, voters seem to be looking beyond Madhes-based parties who have historically campaigned on identity and federalism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026022005024_1b5c1134fb02ded72a12221200918df584b0cd003139bb2be44951efe9a65bf1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Battleground Tarai NT"> </figure>  “Leaders of Madhes parties have glorified their struggle for votes but failed to perform on good governance at local and provincial levels,” explains Tula Narayan Shah. “Now, Balen has become a PM candidate as a face of the region, and as someone who will deliver based on his work as Kathmandu mayor.” If the RSP wins, it will be governing in the absence of provincial leadership that would play a crucial mediatory role between Kathmandu and local units. On Wednesday, RSP’s Madhes province chair Mamta Sharma resigned from the party and joined the NC. There is also some underlying tension between RSP cadre loyal to Balen Shah and Rabi Lamichhane. “It is not prudent to predict who will win the election and whether parties will deliver on promises,” says Tula Narayan Shah. “But win or lose, there is little basis at this time to believe that the RSP will be committed to making the federal system and provinces more functional.” Voters here in the heart of the federalism movement, however, are willing to give the RSP the benefit of the doubt. &nbsp;Resident Brahma Dev in Janakpur told us: &nbsp;“The RSP, like parties that came before them, deserve a chance to prove their leadership in the next five years. If they do not deliver, we can always vote them out next time.”&nbsp; On Wednesday, NC leaders unveiled the party’s 10-point election manifesto at a large rally in Janakpur (main picture, right). Gagan Thapa began by addressing a cheering crowd in Maithili, and said the NC was reformed, adding:&nbsp; “The GenZ did not reject us, they told us to change our ways.” Also on Wednesday 800km away at the other end of the country in Dhangadi, Balen Shah, in a speech that lasted just three minutes, he said: “Don’t vote for us, give us work to do.”&nbsp;