Malaysia is slashing foreign worker intake from end-May, conflicts in West Asia <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/the-international-order-is-dying-in-gaza">risk engulfing the region</a>, and fortress Europe is building higher walls for migrants. 
All this means that Nepal’s economy, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/business/remittances-up-and-up">almost completely dependent on money its workers send home</a>, is as fragile as a house built on sand. Proof of that was the Covid pandemic, which impacted overseas jobs and remittance inflows. 
Malaysia has now capped foreign workers to only 15% of its 17 million strong workforce, and this will mean there will be much fewer jobs for Nepalis in its palm and rubber plantations, construction, manufacturing and service sectors.
Malaysia has instructed companies that no work visas will be issued after May. One saving grace is that the restrictions do not apply to foreign security guards, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/close-encounter-with-death">most of whom are Nepalis</a>.
Malaysia’s curb on foreign workers appears to be related to domestic unemployment, as well as an EU decision to phase out the import of palm oil as a renewable biofuel because of rainforest destruction. Malaysia is the world’s second-largest producer of palm oil after Indonesia.
There are an estimated 500,000 Nepalis in Malaysia, some of them undocumented workers. Of the 771,000 Nepalis who got labour permits from the Department of Foreign Employment in the last fiscal year, 259,000 went to Malaysia. 
“The fact that a major labour destination country like Malaysia is reducing the number of Nepali workers is not good news,” says labour migration expert Ganesh Gurung. “It will seriously impact on remittance inflows and the economy. It does not seem like the Nepal government has any concrete plans to deal with this issue.”
Rajendra Bhandari, President of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA) agrees that Malaysia’s decision is concerning, especially as the demand for foreign workers in Gulf countries is also decreasing. He adds that unless the Nepal government finds alternatives, the number of Nepalis going abroad illegally and ending up doing dangerous work will increase. This is evidenced by the increasing number of Nepalis<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-play-russian-roulette-in-distant-war"> killed in action while fighting for the Russian Army</a> on the Ukrainian front.
Yet even as Foreign Minister Narayan Kaji Shrestha is demanding that Russia send Nepali soldiers home, Labour Minister Dol Prasad Aryal, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/skeletons-in-the-cabinet-k5x6py1v">who is alleged to be involved in recruitment and remittance agencies</a>, reopened labour permits for Russia on Wednesday.
The value of Nepal’s exports is only one-tenth of its imports, and the country pays for imports with remittance income. Latest Nepal Rastra Bank figures show that the country earned $6.35 billion in the last six months of this fiscal year, and foreign exchange reserves hit a record $13.9 billion. 
Ganesh Gurung says that even though Malaysia’s decision might have seemed abrupt, such overwhelming dependence on remittances has always been a risky path for Nepal. Money the diaspora transfers to relatives in Nepal makes up an equivalent of 25% of Nepal’s GDP – one of the highest ratios in the world.
There are an estimated 2 million Nepalis in the Persian Gulf region, and a change in foreign labour policy or a regionwide conflict could jeopardise their jobs and in turn, impact the national economy. 
“This overwhelming reliance on foreign employment has meant that Nepal’s rulers have not been able to implement policy and incentives to create jobs domestically,” says Gurung. “It is inevitable that jobs overseas will dwindle eventually.”
With Malaysia closing, and earnings in the Gulf countries being less than what was promised by recruiters, Nepalis are increasingly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis" target="_blank">looking to Europe</a> as an alternative. But while Europe needs cheap foreign labour, it is also becoming more restrictive.
Croatia was a favourite springboard for Nepalis seeking to go to Western Europe, but it joined the Schengen area last year. There are now an estimated 15,000 Nepalis in Romania, and more hope to make it there before the country also joins Schengen on 31 March. 
NAFEA’s Rajendra Bhandari says the hurdles are not just from Schengen states in Europe, but also from the Nepal government. Those seeking work in Europe need a work demand letter from a European country that is verified by a Nepal embassy in that country. But most European countries do not have resident embassies. 
“If the demand letters could be verified in Nepal itself, it would open the door for a lot of Nepali workers to go to Europe,” says Bhandari, adding that although the Labour Ministry is open to the idea, the Foreign Ministry does not think so.
Unlike migrant workers who go to other Asian countries to earn money, send remittance back home, and eventually return, Gurung says, most Nepalis who go to Europe more often than not settle there permanently. 
Overseas migration has been seen as a safety valve for Nepalis, but there are many thousands of domestic migrant workers at construction sites all over Kathmandu. 
Ensuring a basic minimum wage and labour protection for them would open up more <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive">meaningful employment</a> within Nepal in semi-skilled jobs, many of which are being given to migrants from India.
Says Gurung: “Continuing to depend on other countries to give Nepalis jobs, instead of providing jobs in Nepal for Nepalis, will mean trouble for us down the line.”

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People's Movement

<figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f779c7e80680e056e2ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina reaches out to touch her husband‘s face one last time before his cremation at Pashupati in August. Kedar Timalsina hung himself at a seafood factory in Busan where he worked. Photos: Ki Mindo/ The Seoul Shinmun</figcaption></figure>For many Nepalis, it is dream to find work in Korea where they expect to earn many times more than in Nepal. Yet, there is a dark side to the Korean Dream: between 2009 to 2018, there were 143 deaths of Nepali workers in South Korean soil, and of them 43 were suicides.The 31% suicide rate is much higher than workers from other nationalities. Among Burmese workers, there was a total of 51 deaths and 4 involved suicide, from 2011 to August 2019. Suicides rate is relatively low among Vietnamese migrant workers with zero suicide out of the 14 deaths from 2017 to August 2019.Most of these deaths involved E-9 non-professional employment visa holders who had been employed at farms and factories that suffer a chronic labour shortage. While these tragic deaths repeat every year, the South Korean government does not have a clue why so many migrant workers make such an extreme choice."Nepali migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system tend to be highly educated," notes Seo Seonyoung, a Sociology researcher at Yonsei University. “Their families have great expectation for them, but as soon in Korea they find themselves at the lowest rung of the workforce ladder. The unbearable stress could eventually force them to commit suicide." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7a9c7e80680e056e2fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A mother holds the photograph of her son, who suffered from depression while working in South Korea, and died after he returned. There have been 43 suicides by Nepali workers in Korea between 2009-2018.</figcaption></figure>There are growing voices calling for a systematic improvement to end the vicious cycle. The South Korean government has been trying to improve ties as part of its 'New Southern Policy' to balance its need for migrant workers to address the shortfall of workers.There are now 2.42 million migrant workers in Korea, and the number has nearly doubled in the past 10 years. Local farms and factories cannot function without migrant workforces.Hong Sung Soo, Law professor at Sookmyung Women's University says: "Discrimination and xenophobia towards migrants are not only inappropriate, but also not clever at all if we consider our industrial and demographic reality."Labour rights groups and health activists have been trying to find out why there is such a high suicide rate among Nepali migrant workers in farms and factories in South Korea."It is not just a single factor, there is a web of complex reasons that trap migrant workers towards the extreme choice," explains Jeong Young-seob, Co-director of the group, Migrants Act.A field survey in August of 141 migrant workers from Nepal by the Seoul Shinmun newspaper, Green Hospital and the Migrants Trade Union showed that there were four main factors: gap between expectation and reality of working in Korea, lack of exit, high expectations from loved ones back home, and ruined relationships in Nepal.Great Expectations = Great DisappointmentsTo aspiring Nepali migrant workers, South Korea is a land of opportunity, where they hope to earn five to eight times more than in a job back home. Even highly educated young Nepalis apply for an E-9 visa to South Korea. But when they arrive, they often struggle with harsh labour conditions and discrimination. Of the respondents in the survey, 28% cited a gap between the reality of their work and the expectations they had. Like Surendra, 28, who has been working in a mushroom farm for three years. He has a degree from Tribhuvan University.He says: "Before I came here, I was excited about earning Rs300,000 a month, but I had no idea about working and living conditions. Back home we rarely experience working for 12 hours without any real break. I was not even learning any skills, it was simple manual labour.”The survey showed that 45.6% of the respondents worked more than 52 hours a week, and 19% said they worked 60 hours a week, and only 26% said they had a normal 5-day work week.No ExitAfter working in South Korea for 16 months, Nepali migrant worker Shrestha, 27, jumped from the rooftop of his company dorm in June 2017. He had been suffering from insomnia as he struggled to adjust to alternate day and night shifts. His suicide note said: ‘I have been seeing doctors for health problems and sleep disorders. It did not improve. I wanted to quit and find another job but the company did not allow it. I wanted to go back to Nepal to recover, but the company said no.’ The survey showed that 71% of respondents had tried to find a new job, and 36% of them said this was because of long working hours and dangerous conditions.Migrant workers who come to South Korea under the employment permit system are allowed to change workplaces up to three times within a three-year period. But it requires permission from their employers.Hard WorkNo matter how harsh and hostile the work environment in Korea, returning to Nepal is not an option for most. It was not easy for them to come to Korea in the first place, and they carry the weight of their family's expectations on their shoulders."If migrant workers go back, the villagers would criticise them for forsaking a great opportunity, people will laugh at their failure and brand them weak. Caught between a rock and a hard place, many Nepali migrant workers commit suicide," explained Udaya Rai, the Nepali head of the Migrants Trade Union.Ruined RelationshipsWhat sustains migrant workers despite harsh working conditions in Korea is love of families back home. However, when their relationship collapses, it leads to great emotional stress. Tej Bahadur Gurung, 29, had two friends who committed suicide due to family or relationship problems.Kham Gurung, 45, recalled: "I had to deal with a family issue while I was working non-stop in Korea, but I couldn't afford to go back. That really tormented me."Naivety and lack of exposure to the outside world among Nepali youth who need better jobs to take care of their families creates a problem, says Kapil B Dahal of the Department of Anthropology at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu.Dahal says there have been no systematic study of suicides among Nepali migrant workers in Korea, or elsewhere. The Korean Ministry of Justice keeps a record of the deaths of migrant workers by country, but does not have data on the cause of death."Nepali migrant workers in the Middle East and Europe also commit suicides, yet the Nepal government and politicians do not do anything. Nepali migrant workers make a great contribution to the country's economy, but their health is overlooked and their suicides are ignored," Dahal says.The Nepal Embassy in Seoul offers counseling services for migrant workers, but Udaya Rai of the Migrant Trade Union questioned its effectiveness. "They are not interested in addressing these deaths and suicides, they fear the South Korean government might slash the quota for Nepalis if we start to speak up. That is why they stay silent and hurriedly send bodies back to Nepal." <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f7d9c7e80680e056e30jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Wrapped in cardboard, the coffin containing the remains of Kedar Timalsina arrives at Kathmandu airport in September.</figcaption></figure>Kedar Timalsina, 28 A coffin was rolled out of the arrival area of Kathmandu airport recently. Inside was the body of Kedar Timalsina who hanged himself on 20 July in Busan inside the warehouse of the seafood processing factory where he worked."This paper doesn't say anything about why Kedar killed himself," family members at Kathmandu airport said, examining his death certificate from South Korean police.Kedar’s family could not understand why he would kill himself. It had been only 25 days since his wife Bandana gave birth to their first son. "I even heard Kedar threw a big party in Korea to celebrate the birth of the baby. Why would such a man kill himself? It doesn't make any sense," said Bandana’s brother. Kedar had an aging mother who just turned 60, and would need his care more than before.What further frustrates the grieving family is the silence and indifference from both their government and the Korean authorities. For the Nepal Embassy in Seoul its responsibility was over after shipping the coffin to Kathmandu. South Korean police never investigated surveillance camera footage at the factory, or forensics on Kedar’s phone. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f809c7e80680e056e31jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bandana Timalsina with her son in her lap at their home in Dong Kharka village in September. The baby was only 25 days old when her father Kedar Timalsina took his own life while working at a factory in South Korea. </figcaption></figure>According to South Korean police, Kedar’s co-worker had told them he had recently purchased some land in Nepal, which turned out to be a fraud. Kedar’s family says that is not true because the land he bought two years ago had nearly doubled in price. None of Kedar’s personal belongings were returned to his family, and Korean police said the Embassy had told them the family did not want them back. The family said the Embassy had never contacted them about his belongings."We are responsible for confirming the identity and death certificate in order to promptly return the body back to family in Nepal. The Embassy does not send back items unless they are important," the Embassy of Nepal replied when asked about it.At the cremation site in Pashupati, Bandana wept as she caressed her husband’s face for the last time. “What do I do with our baby?” she cried. It took four hours for the fire to consume Kedar’s body, and with it his ‘Korean Dream’. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f829c7e80680e056e32jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Maiya Gurung looks at a picture of her daughter with her husband Bal Bahadur Gurung, who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge in Seoul in June. After failing to secure a new job, Gurung was facing deportation back to Nepal. </figcaption></figure>Bal Bahadur Gurung, 32 "He really loved the children. These kids remind me of my husband every time I see them," said Maiya Gurung, 28, wiping tears with a tissue under her shades.Maiya's husband Bal Bahadur Gurung jumped off the Wolleung Bridge in Seoul, on 12 June, and died instantly after being hit by a passing vehicle. CCTV footage showed Bal Bahadur walking nervously back-and-forth over the bridge several times, hesitating. He had become an ‘unregistered’ migrant two days ago, and feared deportation.Bal Bahadur entered South Korea with a proper work visa in October 2017. In March, he left the company and registered himself at the Ministry of Labor to find another job. Migrant workers automatically lose their right to stay in the country if they fail to secure employment within three months. Bal Bahadur went back to Nepal to spend a short time with his family then returned to Korea, but had no luck finding a job within the three month deadline.Maiya Gurung came to South Korea to take her husband’s remains. Her neighbours tell her that her husband looked so happy when he was visiting Pokhara two months before his suicide. Shocked by his youngest son’s tragic death, Bal Bahadur’s father, a former soldier, is suffering from amnesia.Maiya’s seven-year-old daughter asks her: “Did Daddy die?”“No,” she replies, “your father has gone abroad to work." Maiya Gurung weeps as she tells us later, “I want to die, too. But when I think of these poor children, I can't." <figure><img width="720" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f859c7e80680e056e33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English. He took his own life eight years ago in Korea after an altercation with a Mongolian worker.</figcaption></figure>Dhan Raj Ghale, 40 ‘I am enocent. I have no mistake. Company cheating me. I am no crazy […] company take my signiture [...] please investigation please’ This is the note left by Dhan Raj Ghale’s hand-written suicide note in English before he hanged himself in 2011 while working at a futon factory in Daegu City. Dhan even had a plane ticket booked to go back to Nepal.Upon seeing a Korean reporter in August in Pokhara, Dhan’s wife Man Maya Ghale, 48, and Dhan’s younger brother Bhim Raj Ghale, 36, recalled the events of eight years ago.Bhim said his older brother was a hard-working man who loved his family more than anything else in the world. “After seeing the letters, I thought Dhan must have been bullied at work,” Bhim recalled.Dhan also left another short letter written in Nepali: ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I once fought with another worker from Mongolia. I don’t know what that Mongolian guy told Korean people…’He also wrote twice to the manager of the company: ‘You don’t talk to me anymore. I don’t understand. Please tell me why.’ <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f879c7e80680e056e34jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dhan Bahadur Ghale's brother Bhim with his suicide note at the family home in Pokhara in September.</figcaption></figure>The company, however, denied there was bullying, and that Dhan was never asked to sign any document. Dhan may have found Korea’s alternate day and night shifts difficult, and had been working night shifts for two months before his death. “My husband told me he could not sleep when he was working night shifts,” Man Maya recalled.Dhan’s daughter and son were ten and five at the time of their father’s death. Now they are in college and school. "I will never forgive those people who mistreated my father,” Dhan's son vows revenge, and the siblings have made joint promises to themselves they will never go overseas to work no matter what.Nevertheless, Man Maya and Bhim said they did not hate Koreans. “You see in South Korea, as well as in Nepal, there are good people and bad people. Sadly, my husband met bad people. I don’t want to blame all Koreans because of them. I just want those bad ones to be punished.”Some names have been changed.Ki Mindo is a reporter for The Seoul Shinmun key5088@seoul.or.kr These articles are reprinted under special arrangement with the Seoul Shinmun which published the <a href="https://www.seoul.co.kr/news/newsView.php?id=20191001500198">stories</a> in Korean on 23 September, 2019 as part of a Special Series titled 'The 2019 Migrant Report: Betrayed Korean Dreams'.More stories from Nepali Times on Nepalis in Korea:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korean-kafala-migrants-in-Korea,4025">Korea Kafala</a> by Om Astha Rai and Seulki Lee in Seoul<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Korea-treating-Nepali-migrant-workers-right,2813">Doing it the right way</a> by Seulki Lee<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/interview-with-Korean-ambassador-Choi-Yong-Jin,2767">“Hope Nepal’s difficulties end soon” </a> Interview with Korean Ambassador hoe Yong Jin

Dead end of the Korean Dream

https://youtu.be/M2XedSLYl-gHari Pun, 31, was working on the scaffolding of a building in the Malaysian city of Penang last year. He was wearing a plastic helmet, but had no safety harness. As he leaned to reach out, he fell to the ground.Pun had asked for a safety strap, but his Chinese supervisor had told him: “It is just a three-storey building. You won’t die even if you fall.” The supervisor was right: Pun did not die. But his fractured spine turned left him quadriplegic.Pun was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-malaysia-labour-pact/">working in Malaysia</a> for three years, after spending two years in Saudi Arabia. Missing home and family, he was preparing for a return to Baglung to be with his wife and two little boys. When he did return home, it was with broken bones and shattered dreams.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/win-win-migration/">Win-win migration</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/bargaining-power/">Bargaining Power</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/labour-pain/https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/labour-pain/">Labour Pain</a>, Om Astha RaiIt has been a year since Pun was confined to bed, where he lies staring at the ceiling of his stone and mud house. His wife works on the family farm and looks after their livestock. She had been able to send their children to a private school with the money Pun sent home. Now, the family cannot afford it, and the boys will go to a government school.“I did not die, but what I am going through now is like dying every single day,” Pun told Nepali Times over the phone this week.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933dd9c7e80680e03dfc3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"/><figcaption>Milan Karki's right thumb was chopped off while working at a factory in Kuala Lumpur. Photos: OM ASTHA RAI</figcaption></figure>When Kamal Khatri, 21, went to work at a rubber factory in Johor Bahru in Malaysia last year, he shared a room with an older Nepali migrant worker who had lost four of his fingers and warned him: “Be careful, those machines can swallow you alive.”Khatri was careful, but in one late night shift, his right hand was caught in a latex grinding machine and torn to shreds. It happened at 5AM, and Khatri had been on the factory floor for nine hours. He was tired and sleepy, and had reached down to pull out a rod that had got stuck in the grinder when the machine suddenly restarted.“It happened so fast it took me a long time to realise that my hand was gone,” he recalls. “For months, when I had an itch or when I wanted to hold something, I would reflexively turn to my absent hand.”It has been a year since Khatri returned to his village in Bhojpur, but is still not used to being left-handed. “My aim was to look after my elderly parents, but they have to look after me,” he told us.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota and Alyaa Alhadjri<iframe id="datawrapper-chart-49Q6n" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important;" src="//datawrapper.dwcdn.net/49Q6n/2/" height="400" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe>The Nepali media often print pictures of coffins of <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty">dead migrant workers</a> arriving at Kathmandu airport, and the human cost of labour migration gets much attention. But the fatalities overshadow the plight of wounded migrant workers, and their lack of support back home.Official records show that in the last ten years, 1,178 Nepali migrant workers returned home wounded. The actual number could be higher. Undocumented workers who have lost limbs are not counted, like Milan Karki whose right thumb was chopped off while working at a factory in Kuala Lumpur. He stayed back even after his contract expired.Nepal’s Foreign Employment Promotion Board provides financial help up to Rs700,000 for wounded migrant workers, depending on the severity of their disability. Since its inception a decade ago, the Board has doled out more than Rs160 million in aid to those returning with disabilities. However, for the severely wounded like Hari Pun, and those suffering mental trauma, compensation is not enough.The number of wounded migrant workers is still much less than fataities, but it has been on the rise (see chart). Experts say the fact that so many Nepali workers are being injured abroad shows systemic lapses in their pre-departure orientation.<iframe src="https://nepalitimes.carto.com/viz/e9f72fca-71e3-4391-b3c8-276d8453cbf7/embed_map" width="100%" height="520" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe>In the past, migrant workers could easily obtain certificates after participating in pre-departure orientation on safety without attending a single class. The government now claims to have curbed this malpractice, but ensuring participation may not be sufficient. Jiwan Kumar Rai of the Board says: “We need to develop a system to examine if migrant workers have understood the basics of the pre-departure orientation.”The rising number of wounded workers also exposes Nepal’s failure to press destination countries to do more to ensure their safety. Malaysia tops the list of the riskiest destinations not only in terms of deaths, but also workplace injuries. Nearly half the Nepali workers who returned home with workplace injuries in the past decade were wounded in Malaysia. (See map above).Nepal last month signed an agreement with Malaysia to protect Nepali workers from exploitation by recruiters and employers. Labour Secretary Mahesh Prasad Dahal told Nepali Times the pact was the most progressive labour agreement Nepal has ever signed with a destination country.He said: “The agreement will enable Nepalis wounded in the work place to claim compensation from Malaysian employers.”https://youtu.be/TojFMwFGjhM<h2>I begged the nurse to poison me</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933e09c7e80680e03dfc4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427">Mithuwa Kumar Thakur, 36, was determined to escape poverty and unemployment in Nepal. So when all his construction worker friends would take a short nap after lunch break, he would practice driving a road roller in the sweltering desert of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-saudi-jail,3517">Saudi Arabia</a>.One hot afternoon, he lost control of the compactor, crushing his left leg below the knee. It had to be amputated.When he came to at a Saudi hospital, he wept for days, not because he was an invalid but because he realised that he was the sole breadwinner for his family. Thakur comes from Dhanusa in the eastern Tarai, the district with the highest number of migrant workers.“I was in agony, so I begged the nurse to secretly poison me to death,” he confided. “I did not want to return home without a leg.”He says he thought of killing himself, even after coming home: “I could not look at the dejected faces of my wife and growing daughters.” But after being counselled by a psycho-social expert mobilised by the Swiss government-funded Safer Migration (SaMi) project, Thakur regained his determination to live.He learnt carpentry, and now works at a local furniture factory. “Because I do not have a leg, I do not earn as much as other carpenters,” he says. “But this is just enough to feed my family.”

Paying an arm and a leg

<figure><img width="1400" height="934" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171116/636930259c7e80680e03c0e2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: GOPEN RAI</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s Number 1 export has been its people. In feudal times, impoverished farmers fled indebtedness, poverty and discrimination and migrated to India by the tens of thousands. They settled in Sikkim, Assam, Kumaon and Garhwal in India and in southern Bhutan.Today, a quarter of Nepal’s population is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-enrolments-in-australian-educational-institutions,3457">working, studying or living abroad</a>. The Nepali diaspora spans the globe, and Nepalis carry the passports of many countries. Among them are the uncounted millions who go to India to work either seasonally, contract workers in Malaysia, the Gulf, Korea and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110">Japan</a>, or those who emigrate permanently. The push factors are not always poverty, but an aspiration for better lives, livelihoods and a higher standard of living. Nepalis do not just migrate because they <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/young-educated-unemployed,664">cannot find a job here</a>, but because there is peer pressure to go out and seek their fortune.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-certificate/">Migration Certificate</a>, Prakriti KandelWith the democratic changes of 1990, there was at last supposed to be accountable and efficient government that would ensure economic growth and job creation so that Nepalis would no longer be forced to leave. But democracy soon disintegrated into infighting, and the country plunged into a war. Not only did successive governments in the past 30 years fail to deliver, they actively encouraged Nepalis to migrate so there would be less pressure from the streets.Migration let rulers off the hook because they have not had to worry about job creation at home, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Nepal-economy-supported-by-remittance-money,2874">the remittances</a> overseas Nepalis send home officially and unofficially (estimated at anywhere between $8-10 billion a year) is keeping the country afloat. It pays the country’s petroleum import bill which has tripled in the past five years.Despite tales of abuse and exploitation by employers, the real mistreatment and cruelty of Nepalis is by fellow-Nepalis. Recruitment agents fleece the most vulnerable, squeezing every rupee out of the most desperate. The state and its agencies are ruthless in the harassment of migrants, erecting obstacles every step of their way as they leave the country and on their return. Instead of being hailed as national heroes for propping up the national economy, they are treated like dirt.More than 4 million Nepalis went abroad in search of work in the last 20 years, nearly all of them paid a hefty fee to manpower middlemen, and had to overcome unnecessary bureaucratic hurdles. A <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Centre for Investigative Journalism report in August</a> exposed how corrupt Malaysian and Nepali politicians and officials colluded to steal Rs 20,000 each from poor Nepali workers for over five years. Regime change in Malaysia and a can-do Labour Minister in Nepal are negotiating a government-to-government arrangement to bypass middlemen.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota in Kathmandu with Alyaa Alhadjri in Kuala LumpurA scathing report by Amnesty International <a href="https://www.amnesty.ie/turning-people-into-profits-abusive-recruitment-trafficking-and-forced-labour-of-nepali-migrant-workers/">Turning People into Profits: Abusive Recruitment, Trafficking and Forced Labour of Nepali Migrant Workers</a> lists instances of state collusion in directly defrauding its own people. The report said nearly 90% of overseas contract workers were forced to pay unnecessarily high fees to recruiters to get them jobs overseas, and most were heavily indebted as a result. Amnesty said such ‘country-wide exploitation was flourishing under an often indifferent government’. Not indifferent. Greedy.In this edition we carry an investigation into <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-certificate/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">student visas becoming the preferred way for young Nepali men and women to emigrate</a>. In the past year alone, at least 60,000 Nepalis have left the country with one-way tickets on student visas. In all, they spent at least $50 million in fees and other costs.The number of students leaving for Asutralia has grown dramatically in the past three years, overtaking Japan. Both governments are aware of what is happening, and allow students to work about four hours a day. The earnings mostly go to educational establishments within their own countries, and the students provide a cheap source of unskilled labour that their own nationals shun.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110">Japan</a> is now tightening on student visas, and there are dire reports from Australia of Nepali students who cannot juggle study and work. Outmigration in any form: be it as overseas contract workers or as workers pretending to be students is not a sustainable way to run the country’s economy.There has to be a coherent long-term strategy to create jobs at home through vocational training and enforcing the minimum wage. In the shorter term, Nepalis going abroad have to be protected from rapacious fellow Nepalis preying on them, they need better orientation and job training, and the country should be willing to absorb them on their return and put their savings and experience to productive use.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-enrolments-in-australian-educational-institutions,3457">Trending: Australian Education</a>, Jessica Cortis<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110">From Chitwan to Chiyoda</a>, Kunda Dixit <h2>10 years ago this week</h2> In the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/422" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#422 issue of Nepali Times ten years ago</a>, we published a story about how perplexed Maoist lawmaker Sarala Regmi felt when UML leader Bam Dev Gautam became Home Minister. Regmi had defeated Gautam in his own Bardiya constituency in the first Constituent Assembly elections in April 2008, but the UML heavyweight went on to grab a powerful ministerial portfolio despite the defeat.Fast forward to 2018, Gautam is still trying to sneak into the Parliament despite being defeated by a relatively unknown NC candidate in the recent elections. All the pre-Dasain political buzz was about Gautam, and how he persuaded an MP from his own party to resign so he could contest a by-election and enter the House.Gautam faced criticism not just on social media but within his own party, and the first post-Dasain meeting of the Nepal Communist Party this week decided to close his 'chapter'. Meanwhile,  Regmi has deviated from mainstream politics and is active with a Maoist faction that aims to re-start the war.Here is what Regmi said in that 10-year-old story: "A lot of people back in the district ask me what I think about the man I defeated being made the home minister.... We don't want a Bihari-style republic." <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/422" data-elementor-open-lightbox=""> <img width="507" height="796" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171116/636930299c7e80680e03c0e3jpeg.jpg" alt=""></a>

HARDWORKING  STUDENTS

Migration Certificate

Nepal’s fertility rate is going down even though contraceptive use has not increased<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/636517189c7e80680e02c252jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>THE RIGHT SHOT: Health worker Januka Dhakal injects Depo-Provera on a woman at Rayale Health Post of Kavre district on Tuesday. With their husbands away, fewer women now want to use contraceptives. Sonia Awale</figcaption></figure>Sita Yonjan, 21, has a two-year-old daughter, and recently stopped using <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-the-curse-of-the-contraceptive,493">contraceptives</a> even though she is not planning to have another child. She says she doesn’t need her birth control implant anymore because her husband went away to work in Qatar two months ago.Yonjan visited a health post in Rayale village of Kavre to remove the birth control implant that she had inserted last year. The tiny device prevents births for five years, and does not need to be removed even when users abstain from intercourse. But many Nepali men want their wives to stop using contraceptives when they leave for overseas work."My husband thinks I could sleep with anyone if I use contraceptives in his absence," Yonjan frankly admits.An estimated four million Nepali men of reproductive age <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-cycle-of-migration,3230">work abroad</a>, and their wives back home generally see no need for contraceptive implants, preferring to use short-term methods like condoms, pills and injectables when their husbands come home on leave. Like Yonjan, those using IUDs and implants remove them as soon as their husbands go away again.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lXkqrDtUOUDemographers say this explains the riddle about why Nepal's fertility rate has been going down despite contraceptive prevalence rate remaining low.When Nepal conducted its first-ever nationwide health survey in 1996, only 26% women were using modern contraceptives. Within ten years, it had nearly doubled to 44%, but has leveled off since. The contraceptive prevalence rate actually declined to 43% in 2016, when the last National Demographic Health Survey (NDHS) was conducted. Even so, the fertility rate that measures the average number of children per couple has been going down -- from 4.6 in 1996 to 3.1 in 2006 and 2.3 in 2016 (see graphs, overleaf).Demographers were initially puzzled by the drop in the fertility rate despite contraceptive use rate flatlining. But an analysis in 2013 suggested a correlation between male outmigration and contraceptive use. Another analysis is now underway, which will probably confirm the impact out-migration of men may be having on contraceptive use and fertility rate."If we consider only women who are married and living with husbands, we find a high contraceptive prevalence rate," explains Sharad Pathak, a demographer at the government’s Family Health Division. "This rate is low only because lots of women generally do not need contraceptives when their husbands are away."<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/6365171c9c7e80680e02c253jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="826">However, experts warn that Nepal’s declining fertility rate may not mean that population growth will reach replacement level -- one in every four married women still have an unmet need for family planning. A third of young married women aged 15-19 do not use contraceptives, making them more vulnerable to unintended pregnancies and unsafe abortion.Kristine Blokhus at the UN Population Fund (UNFPA) says Nepali women are aware of the benefits of having fewer babies, but face barriers in accessing contraceptives: "Health facilities often run out of contraceptive stocks, and there are not enough trained health workers to provide long-term contraceptives like implants and IUD."A 2016 UNFPA assessment showed most health posts provide only condoms, pills and injectables because of the lack of trained staff. Only one third of the facilities provide all five types of modern contraceptives including implants and IUDS. In most villages, women have to choose between oral pills or Depo-Provera, which they cannot use if there are side effects. Male or female sterilisation is available occasionally, and most women complain their husbands do not want to use condoms.With rising female literacy, the number of women opting for traditional family planning like withdrawal and the rhythm method instead of modern contraceptives is also going up. In 1996, only 3% of married women used such natural methods, now it is 10%. However, the NDHS 2016 showed that 62% women using the rhythm method to avoid pregnancy did not have an accurate knowledge about the ovulation cycle.Nepal’s target is to increase its contraceptive prevalence rate to 52% by 2020, but it may not meet that goal because of male migration, the preference for natural methods, and family planning programs being scaled back due to a drop in U.S. funding after the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841">gag rule under President Trump</a>. The United States has traditionally been the main supporter of family planning projects in Nepal, through organisations like Marie Stopes International that provide abortion services.Beth Schlachter, Director of Family Planning 2020, who recently visited Kathmandu to take stock of Nepal's progress, says: "The US gag rule might affect Nepal's family planning programs if organisations delivering safe abortion services here do not find other resources to supply contraceptives."Since Nepal is poised to become an 'aging' <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624">society by 2030 and an 'aged one' by 2050</a>, there is an even greater need to scale up family planning. For the country to reduce its dependency ratio and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/editorial-reaping-demographic-dividend,3621">reap the demographic dividend</a>, many more women must have easier access to a much wider range of contraceptives.The mix mattersWhen Nepal launched its first population control campaign in the late 1960s, its population was only 13 million, it was growing at 3% per year because the fertility rate was nearly 6 children per couple. The only contraceptive choice women had then was to get their partners to use condoms. Most men did not like using them, and women did not have any control over reproductive health. The pill could have given women freedom to limit or space births, but they were scared of its side effects.Later, injectables like Depo-Provera and IUDs were introduced and today the government provides five types of contraceptives for free, and conducts health camps offering permanent family planning methods like male as well female sterilisation. But many other contraceptives like emergency pills and female condoms are available only in private clinics, and most rural women cannot use them even if they want to.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141140/6365171e9c7e80680e02c254jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="609">Beth Schlachter, Director of Family Planning 2020, says Nepal needs to provide a much wider mix of contraceptives in order to protect women from unintended pregnancies, unsafe abortions and maternal deaths: "What a 15-year-old girl needs might be different from what a 24-year-old mother of two children needs," she says. "If we try to address all of them with just one or two methods, we will not be very successful."Marie Stopes International is preparing a pilot program to test the acceptability of a new type of Depo-Provera called Sayana Press which can be injected at home and would suit women who do not like to visit health posts every three months for their Depo-Provera.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841">Cutting the lifeline</a>,  Kate Ryan<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/editorial-reaping-demographic-dividend,3621">Reaping the demographic dividend</a>, Editorial

Migrating males and population decline

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

out-migration