Nepalis are proud to proclaim that the Buddha was born in Nepal, but the over-development of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/telling-the-story-of-buddha-s-lumbini">Lumbini</a> may mean that the nativity site could be struck off the World Heritage Sites listing. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Nepal is internationally recognised for its cultural landmarks and their protection, but &nbsp;corruption, commercialisation and over-development are endangering sites like Lumbini and Pashupatinath Temple.&nbsp; World Heritage Sites are designated by UNESCO for their historical, cultural or natural significance, and Nepal has four landmarks in the listing: Kathmandu Valley, Sagarmatha National Park, Chitwan National Park and Lumbini.&nbsp; It is difficult to be struck off the list, but UNESCO can put some landmarks in the List of World Heritage in danger. The spotlight is now on Lumbini and Pashupati because of recent construction. U Thant, the United Nations Secretary-General from Burma who <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/u-thant-kenzo-tange-and-the-buddhas-birthplace">visited Lumbini in 1977</a>, hired famous Japanese architect Kenzō Tange to devise a masterplan for the site. It has taken nearly 40 years for Tange’s scheme to more or less be put together, but the Lumbini Development Trust (LDT) has been flouting the Tange design. For example, a concrete and glass structure is coming up right next to Mayadevi Temple, an area of unexcavated archaeological significance. More recently, LDT announced that it was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lharkyal-lama-s-lumbini-inc">leasing out to a private company</a> for 99 years the sacred Ramgram Stupa, 35km east of Lumbini, one of eight sites in the Subcontinent with corporeal remains of the Buddha. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The plan was cancelled in January by Parliament’s Public Accounts Committee which also demanded a corruption probe into the Rs7 billion deal to lease 81 hectares around Ramgram for 99 years. The deal was to the Singapore-based Moksha Foundation and its Nepali counterpart The Promised Land, owned by Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s landlord’s son.&nbsp; LDT is now headed by political broker and shady former lawmaker Lharkyal Lama, who was appointed by Prime Minister Dahal despite knowledge about his murky past. &nbsp; Neither the Ministry of Culture nor the Department of Archaeology had prior knowledge of the Ramgram proposal, and this lack of oversight and accountability has further eroded the LDT’s credibility, increasing concern about conflict of interest and political patronage.After the controversy erupted, an LDT executive committee meeting shelved the Ramgram agreement. &nbsp;&nbsp; The Heritage Site listing doubts come just as another ancient Buddha-era settlement of Tilaurakot near Lumbini is about to be added to the UNESCO Heritage List.&nbsp; Meanwhile, in Kathmandu, the Pashupati Area Development Trust (PADT) also faces the risk of having one of Hinduism’s holiest shrines delisted from the World Heritage Sites.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032213038_4d830080d521db354a577a999e97d850282dab6cbf6795b04cab76535d1300cc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024032213038_4d830080d521db354a577a999e97d850282dab6cbf6795b04cab76535d1300cc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1574" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Pashupati NT"> </figure>  The reason is similar to what has tainted Lumbini: political interference. LDT and PADT are chaired by the Minister of Civil Aviation and Culture, but are supposed to operate autonomously from the government. The minister has just been replaced by another Maoist confidante of Dahal, Hit Man Tamang. PADT’s director Laxmi Pun was suspended soon after her appointment because she did not meet qualifications for the job. There is also a brewing controversy involving the Digital Copyright Act about the right to film the Ganga Arati evening prayer ritual at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-healer-of-pashupati">Pashupati</a> by the entertainment company Budha Subba Digital.&nbsp; The company says it signed a deal with PADT, but this is denied by spokesperson Rewati Raman Adhikari whose signature is on the agreement between Budha Subba Digital and PADT. Now, both PADT and Adhikari vehemently deny any ownership or knowledge of such an agreement.&nbsp; “We don’t know how they got the stamp, this is nonsense,” Adhikari told Nepali Times. He added that PADT is working on crowd management at the evening prayers after several near stampedes. &nbsp; Adhikari says the Ganga Arati is not under the jurisdiction of PADT, but organised by a separate entity. He notes that the prayer ritual adopted more than a decade ago is not inherently a part of Nepali culture.&nbsp; Our investigation shows that on 15 June, 2023 former Minister of Tourism and Culture Sudan Kirati signed an agreement permitting the Kirat ethnic group to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-after-death">bury their dead</a> within the sacred Shleshmantak forest until a permanent burial site was found in three months.&nbsp; Six months have passed but no alternative site has been designated. Nabin Manandhar of Kathmandu Metropolitan Office had no idea about the agreement Kirati signed. Rewati Raman Adhikari also had no idea about an agreement. PADT has already been wracked by a corruption scandal over missing gold used to make a new necklace for the main Pashupati deity. Thapa is facing charges related to corruption in that case which goes back to when K P Oli was Prime Minister in 2021. &nbsp;

Alisha Sijapati

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Unholy developments at holy sites

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84b69c7e80680e0677aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Suka Bahadur Tamang, 60 (above) has spent half his life chopping logs that arrive at the Timber Corporation of Nepal's depot near the Pashupati temple which supplies wood for the traditional funeral pyres.From early morning to late at night, Tamang is ready with his trusty axe to supply the wood needed for funeral pyres.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84b89c7e80680e0677afjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">Day in and day out, in the fenced compound next to the country’s only electric crematorium, the seven staff work round the clock to ensure that the demand for wood is met. But Suka Bahadur is the only one who chops the wood by hand, the others use electric saws."If the crematorium runs out of wood at midnight, we wake up and start chopping wood," he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84bb9c7e80680e0677b0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">Even in normal times, the depot operates 24 hours to ensure a constant supply of wood for the cremation of bodies at the ghat on the banks of the holy Bagmati river. But never in his 30 years here has he seen a crisis like this. Demand for wood for the funeral pyres has risen so much that he is over-worked."My workload has increased a lot and I am chopping much more wood than I used to," says Tamang whose chopped logs now mostly go to the temporary crematory that has been set up in the open space and banks of Bagmati River for Covid-19 victims.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84be9c7e80680e0677b1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84c09c7e80680e0677b2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84c29c7e80680e0677b3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84c59c7e80680e0677b4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">One of the incinerators at the electric crematorium had to go for repairs, and the other which can only handle 16 funerals a day even if it works non-stop, could not cope with the demand. On Wednesday alone Nepal recorded 168 deaths with 9,238 new infections, with 3,924 in Kathmandu Valley alone.Before the pandemic, the depot supplied an average of 7,000kg of wood to the crematory every week. In the past ten days, it has dispatched over 100,000kg of after receiving orders from Pashupati Area Development Trust.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84c89c7e80680e0677b5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The corporation normally sources the logs from government owned forests around Nepal. But since the pandemic hit, it has started buying logs from the private sector as well."We did not need to supply logs to the electric crematorium before. But now we have to send it there as well," explains Drona Prasad Pokharel, Depot Chief at Pashupati.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84ca9c7e80680e0677b6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84cc9c7e80680e0677b7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The electric crematorium in Pashupati has been set aside for Covid-19 patients, with the Nepal Army handling the bodies. And while it does not require logs to burn the bodies, the temporary platforms set up in the open space inside its compound as well as the banks of Bagmati River to cremate the bodies require nearly 300kg of logs for each pyre.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84cf9c7e80680e0677b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84d19c7e80680e0677b9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The Trust has set up 35 new pyres inside the electric crematorium compound and 16 along the banks of Bagmati for Covid victims.Says Pokhrel: "Every year, we supply around 2.5 million kg of wood for Pashupati. This year the volume will be far in excess because of the pandemic deaths.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111144/636b84d49c7e80680e0677bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">

Adding fuel to the funeral pyres

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecd49c7e80680e09ad8bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Suka Bahadur Tamang, 60 (above) has spent half his life chopping logs that arrive at the Timber Corporation of Nepal's depot near the Pashupati temple which supplies wood for the traditional funeral pyres.From early morning to late at night, Tamang is ready with his trusty axe to supply the wood needed for funeral pyres.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecd79c7e80680e09ad8cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">Day in and day out, in the fenced compound next to the country’s only electric crematorium, the seven staff work round the clock to ensure that the demand for wood is met. But Suka Bahadur is the only one who chops the wood by hand, the others use electric saws."If the crematorium runs out of wood at midnight, we wake up and start chopping wood," he says.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecd99c7e80680e09ad8djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">Even in normal times, the depot operates 24 hours to ensure a constant supply of wood for the cremation of bodies at the ghat on the banks of the holy Bagmati river. But never in his 30 years here has he seen a crisis like this. Demand for wood for the funeral pyres has risen so much that he is over-worked."My workload has increased a lot and I am chopping much more wood than I used to," says Tamang whose chopped logs now mostly go to the temporary crematory that has been set up in the open space and banks of Bagmati River for Covid-19 victims.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecdc9c7e80680e09ad8ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecdf9c7e80680e09ad8fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cece19c7e80680e09ad90jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cece49c7e80680e09ad91jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">One of the incinerators at the electric crematorium had to go for repairs, and the other which can only handle 16 funerals a day even if it works non-stop, could not cope with the demand. On Wednesday alone Nepal recorded 168 deaths with 9,238 new infections, with 3,924 in Kathmandu Valley alone.Before the pandemic, the depot supplied an average of 7,000kg of wood to the crematory every week. In the past ten days, it has dispatched over 100,000kg of after receiving orders from Pashupati Area Development Trust.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cece79c7e80680e09ad92jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The corporation normally sources the logs from government owned forests around Nepal. But since the pandemic hit, it has started buying logs from the private sector as well."We did not need to supply logs to the electric crematorium before. But now we have to send it there as well," explains Drona Prasad Pokharel, Depot Chief at Pashupati.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cece99c7e80680e09ad93jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecec9c7e80680e09ad94jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The electric crematorium in Pashupati has been set aside for Covid-19 patients, with the Nepal Army handling the bodies. And while it does not require logs to burn the bodies, the temporary platforms set up in the open space inside its compound as well as the banks of Bagmati River to cremate the bodies require nearly 300kg of logs for each pyre.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecee9c7e80680e09ad95jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecf19c7e80680e09ad96jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">The Trust has set up 35 new pyres inside the electric crematorium compound and 16 along the banks of Bagmati for Covid victims.Says Pokhrel: "Every year, we supply around 2.5 million kg of wood for Pashupati. This year the volume will be far in excess because of the pandemic deaths.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cecf39c7e80680e09ad97jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28e29c7e80680e045897jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/>As every year, Hindu devotees from all over the country and neighboring India have gathered to the sacred Pashupatinath Temple for the annual <a href="https://nepalitimesnt.exposure.co/maha-shivaratri" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Maha Shivaratri festival</a>. Observed on a new moon day on the 11th month of the Nepali lunar calendar, the festival marks the convergence of Shiva and Shakti and is the celebration of the god of destruction.Devotees primarily celebrate <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/mycity/2018/02/14/maha-shivaratri/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shivaratri</a> at night, as its name suggests, by maintaining an all night vigil, offering prayers and enjoying with music and dances, along with bonfire. Pilgrims wait in queues long before daybreak to pay homage to Lord Shiva.Also:<a href="https://nepalitimesnt.exposure.co/maha-shivaratri" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Maha Shivaratri</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/mycity/2018/02/14/maha-shivaratri/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Maha Shivaratri</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10966#.XHzx4sAzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In the name of the lord</a>, Alok TumbahangpheyDuring the day, Sadhus with their faces painted and bodies smeared with ash are seen meditating, fasting and smoking cannabis. They also offer ganja and bhang to people around them as Shiva's prasad.While the authorities have often overlooked the use of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undo-hash-ban,3657" target="_blank" rel="noopener">marijuana</a> on Shivaratri because of its religious significance, Pashupati Area Development Trust last year enforced a restriction that allowed authorities to arrest visitors caught smoking or in possession of the intoxicant. Only the men in saffron were exempt from the ban. This year, however, there is a complete ban. Many have also shifted base and moved to Doleshwor Mahadev in Bhaktapur that provides better lodging and fooding for the devotees.Photojournalist Bikram Rai and Monika Deupala were in Pashupatinath and Doleshwor Mahadev this week to capture the essence of the lively festival.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28e69c7e80680e045898jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="999"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28e99c7e80680e045899jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28ec9c7e80680e04589ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="800"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28ef9c7e80680e04589bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28f29c7e80680e04589cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28f69c7e80680e04589djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28f99c7e80680e04589ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1037"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28fc9c7e80680e04589fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="992"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28ff9c7e80680e0458a0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a29039c7e80680e0458a1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="997"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a29059c7e80680e0458a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a29099c7e80680e0458a3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1010">Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/In-the-name-of-the-destroyer,1144" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In the name of the destroyer</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15693#.XHzw4sAzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jammin' in the ratri</a>, Paavan Mathema

Maha Shivaratri

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

Mass migration from Muktikot

The Himalayan mountains are also known as the Third Pole because it is the largest repository of water stored as ice outside the two polar regions. However, it is divided by political boundaries that nature does not recognise – be it the air pollutants that flow or migratory birds that fly over the peaks. The Himalaya is also a geopolitical and climate change hot spot. In these geopolitically and environmentally challenging times, it becomes even more important to create oases of conversations, where candid and future-oriented discussions can take place at a people-to-people level. Platforms dominated by inter-governmental agencies have been able to do little. The Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) aims to be a platform that stands at the crossroads of climate, community, and connectivity, fostering dialogue and promoting citizen-led action. Growing up in the Indian Himalayan town of Kalimpong and spending the nascent stages of my career helping in setting up offices of the award-winning Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) that fostered community involvement in conservation, I have witnessed transformations both good and bad.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5559" height="3711" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  There are initiatives like Nepal’s forest cover doubling in 30 years, or Bhutan’s drive for high-end sustainable tourism. At the same time, I have seen landscapes destroyed by bulldozers and tall buildings competing for air and sunlight in expanding cities. From crony capitalists patronised by political leaders engaged in plundering natural resources to citizen-led initiatives on cleanliness drives and waste management, the Himalayan region is full of stories from both ends of the spectrum of disappointment and hope. Life is about observing and, in one’s little sphere of influence, taking baby steps towards catalysing positive transformation. This is why, Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) had been hosting the Himalayan Consensus Summit in Nepal from 2014 to 2020 following which the Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) was incubated since 2023. HFF is an initiative to encourage multi-faceted dialogues on the topics of climate, community, and connectivity in the Himalayan region by bringing together leaders, experts, institutions, and practitioners from different countries and sectors.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09" data-rendition-name="original" width="5364" height="3581" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  In this year’s edition, there are a series of sessions on 6 February with 34 speakers including ten international panelists. On day two the Himalayan Haat aims to showcase a variety of local, indigenous, and sustainable products. As in 2024, it is believed that the conversations and interactions at the HFF will lead to more partnerships and collaborations from climate financing to managing disasters to taking Himalayan brands global. YOUNG FELLOWS Beyond this, there are sessions on topics such as geopolitics and the Himalaya, as well as on migration which are especially relevant considering the past few years that have seen many events which impacted the global world order. One of the key features of HFF, guided by our ethos of bringing together experts, experiences, and enthusiasm, is also to ensure stronger youth representation through the HFF Youth Fellowship. This year, following a rigorous screening process, youth fellows were selected out of an overwhelming response. Those chosen will be able to attend the events as well as collaborate in future research and publications. Selected fellows will also be provided with full scholarships to the public policy program at Takshashila Institution, an independent centre for research and education in public policy in Bangalore. In a region where half of the population is under 25 years, it is important to get the future generations also in the room.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="5273" height="3520" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  Nepal presents an ideal location to hold meetings such as this, where no-holds-barred conversations can take place face-to-face. The country has good air connectivity and one of the most liberal visa policies in Asia. And while Davos is a good example to follow for convening global voices, we need not have so many private planes burning fossil fuel, as we can have participants take scheduled commercial flights or have regional participants simply take a road trip. Ultimately, the Himalayan region is also about festivities. No exchange of ideas is complete without immersing in art, culture, culinary experiences, and music. This is why HFF envisages graduating to a Himalayan Jatra, rooted in a region where people smile from the heart, and teach the world to smile with them. Join us at HFF 2026 as we move closer to this vision. See the schedule <a href="file:///Z:/%231297%20February%206/pix/page%209/HFF%202026%20Program%20Schedule%20(1)_compressed.pdf">here</a>. Sujeev Shakya is Chair of Nepal Economic Forum and Convenor of the Himalayan Future Forum.

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

When I landed in Kathmandu last November, I arrived with a Diwali hangover. Not the festive kind, but the coughing, dust-coated, throat-scratching kind gifted by North India’s winter air. After a decade of breathing in Delhi’s seasonal gas chamber, my lungs were in an open revolt. But within days of landing in Kathmandu, my cough vanished. It felt almost miraculous. The air was crisper. The Air Quality Index was kinder, and the Himalayan peaks rose on the horizon.&nbsp;
But by the third week, the familiar grey veil returned. First as a faint blur, then peak by peak the Himalaya began to disappear. Locals said it had been getting worse every year.&nbsp;
Much of this haze is not Kathmandu’s doing. What drifts into Nepal each winter is a toxic spillover from the plains of North India and Pakistan: black carbon, brown clouds, and fine particulate matter carried across borders by seasonal winds. Kathmandu’s bowl-shaped valley simply traps what the region exhales.
Abid Omar, founder of the <a href="https://pakairquality.com/" target="_blank">Pakistan Air Quality Initiative</a>, put it bluntly: “We often view air pollution and climate change as separate silos, but in the Himalaya, they are one and the same.”
Black carbon is essentially soot from diesel emissions, brick kilns, and crop burning. It may be short-lived in the atmosphere, but when ash settles on snow and ice, it reduces reflectivity and accelerates melting.&nbsp;
Omar adds, “Black carbon is a threat to the water security of the entire Indus and Ganges basins.”
What burns on both sides of Punjab do not stay in Punjab. It ends up on glaciers that feed rivers, sustaining hundreds of millions of people downstream.
In November 2024, AQI levels in New Delhi hovered near 500 and about the same time Lahore briefly became the world’s most polluted city, with the AQI count crossing 1,100. These numbers are not abstract.
According to the <a href="https://www.stateofglobalair.org/resources/archived/state-global-air-report-2024" target="_blank">State of Global Air 2024 report</a>, India recorded more than 2 million deaths attributable to air pollution in 2023. Bangladesh and Pakistan each saw over 200,000 deaths. Air pollution is now one of the leading causes of premature death across South Asia.
Nepal, often imagined as cleaner by default, tells a sobering story of its own. Air pollution in Nepal led to an estimated <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2025/06/17/air-pollution-is-the-number-one-health-risk-factor-in-nepal#:~:text=Vehicle%20Emissions:%20Continuing%20to%20electrify,airflows%20carry%20pollutants%20across%20borders." target="_blank">48,500 premature deaths</a>, with the loss of more than 1.4 million disability-adjusted life years. The University of Chicago’s <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/post/nepal-capital-chokes-as-wildfires-rage-en" target="_blank">Air Quality Life Index</a> estimates that particulate pollution cuts 3.4 years off the life of the average Nepali. In the Tarai region, life expectancy drops by nearly five years. In Kathmandu, residents lose 2.6 years.
Says infectious disease specialist Anup Subedee: “Air pollution is killing at a far higher rate than Covid-19 did during its worst years in Nepal. People are dying in their twenties of cancer, or having heart attacks and strokes in their thirties and forties.”
Nearly <a href="https://www.icimod.org/press-release/kathmandu-choked-on-polluted-air-for-75-of-the-last-90-days/?utm_source=chatgpt.com" target="_blank">40 per cent of winter particulate pollution in the Kathmandu</a> valley originates outside Nepal. Black carbon carried from Punjab, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh in India, besides parts of Pakistan, rides the winds north, settles on Himalayan snow, and accelerates glacier melt by absorbing heat.
“The pollutants travel across borders within shared airsheds, creating one gigantic plume of polluted air over India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan several times a year,” says Subedee.
In some Himalayan regions, <a href="https://www.icimod.org/success-stories/chapter-2/black-carbon-and-glacier-melt/" target="_blank">scientists estimate</a> that black carbon can increase localised melt rates by up to 30%. Yet global climate negotiations continue to treat glacial loss primarily as a carbon dioxide problem.&nbsp;
CHINA’S APPROACH
The South Asian story is transboundary, and more immediate as well as more preventable. This is not only about emissions. It is about coordination, and China offers an instructive contrast.
Since 2013, China has dramatically improved its air quality by declaring a '<a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/12/12/what-new-delhi-can-learn-from-chinas-war-on-air-pollution#:~:text=In%20the%20following%20years%2C%20Beijing,29.3%CE%BCg%2Fm%C2%B3%20in%202024." target="_blank">war on pollution</a>'. A major air pollutant, suspended PM2.5 levels fell sharply through strict controls on coal, vehicles, and industry, massive investment in renewables, and legally binding national action plans.
Crucially, China shifted from city-by-city firefighting to a regional airshed approach. Provinces shared data, coordinated emergency responses, enforced unified standards, and tied environmental performance to political accountability. South Asian countries have done none of this.
Isolated national actions are insufficient when pollution itself ignores borders. India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan share the same airshed. Without cooperation, each country keeps breathing its neighbour’s mistakes.
“As the government representing the largest population affected by air pollution, India should lead this effort. Instead, the region has drifted away from cooperation, and the cost is becoming catastrophic,” Subedee says.
The haze over Kathmandu is not only Nepal’s burden. It is a <a href="https://sapannews.com/2024/12/27/could-climate-diplomacy-be-the-googly-a-gamechanger-for-regional-cooperation/" target="_blank">regional failure</a>. The melting of South Asia’s glaciers is not just a global warming story. It is also a local one, written in the smoke rising from our own fields, factories, and highways.
If we keep ignoring black carbon, the Himalayas will keep losing time, snow, and stability. The disappearing peaks of Kathmandu are not a metaphor. They are a warning.
And like the air itself, that warning is already crossing borders. ©Sapan News
Pragyan Srivastava is an Indian journalist and associate editor at <a href="http://www.sapannews.com/" target="_blank">Sapan News</a>. <a href="mailto:pragyan@sapannews.com" target="_blank">pragyan@sapannews.com</a>

Cleaning up the Himalayan airshed

On full-moon nights in October and the Nepali New Year in April, hundreds gather to worship at the sacred pond of Mai Pokhari in Ilam. According to legend, the pond was born thousands of years ago from the union of the holy Mai and Tamur rivers in eastern Nepal. Another story tells of an elderly couple whose death gave rise to a life-giving pond meant to quench human thirst. The nine corners of the pond are each believed to house a goddess capable of granting health, fertility, good harvests, and protection from landslides and storms. In every version, one message is constant: when people polluted the water, the goddess moved away. Fear of losing her protection still shapes how people treat the sacred water body today. Besides ponds, wetlands are areas that are saturated with water, permanently or seasonally, including marshes, swamps, and bogs – representing some of the world’s most biologically diverse ecosystems, with distinctive soil, plants and animals. In 2008, Mai Pokhari earned the status of a Ramsar site – a wetland of global importance – for its ecological significance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mai Pokhari"> <figcaption>Mai Pokhari in Ilam. Photo: JITENDRA RAJ BAJRACHARYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  Its mid-elevation broadleaved forests provide habitat for many epiphytic orchids that grow without soil, attaching themselves to trees, and protected species such as the white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis), leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) and Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra). For the people of the area, this is more than a wetland. It is a living mother, an ancestral guardian, and at the heart of their cultural identity. But long before it was recognised internationally, it was already being protected through belief, respect, and traditional knowledge passed quietly from one generation to the next. This pattern of faith-based stewardship is repeated across the Himalaya. Spirituality has shaped conservation in ways no law ever could. Fishing, hunting, and polluting wetlands and rivers are strictly forbidden, not by force but by faith. When erosion threatened the pond in the 1930s, villagers planted pine trees along its edges. As forest degradation increased, the community organised itself, establishing community forests in 1992 and 2001. In 2004, the area surrounding the pond was formally recognised as a religious forest –- a recognition based on local devotion rather than outside instruction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Map of wetlands in Hindu Kush"> <figcaption>Map showing four wetlands in the Hindu Kush Himalaya. Source: RAMESH KATHARIYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  In the lowland forests of western Nepal, lies Ghodaghodi, a wetland complex consisting of large and shallow oxbow lake with 13 associated marshes and meadows surrounded by tropical deciduous forest on the lower slopes of the Siwalik range along the southern edge of the Himalaya. These wetlands and forests serve as a critical wildlife corridor between the lowlands and the Siwalik, supporting several globally threatened species of plants and animals, and rare wild rice. To the people who live around it, especially the Indigenous Tharu, Ghodaghodi is alive – a sacred presence shaped by gods, ancestors, and centuries of belief. The name Ghodaghodi, which means horse and mare, carries ancient memories. Elders tell stories of divine beings who once moved through the landscape in animal form, leaving behind a lake infused with spiritual powers. The waters are believed to be the dwelling place of gods and goddesses, particularly Lord Shiva. This belief has shaped how the wetland is viewed: not as property to be owned, but as a holy space to be respected. Each year during the festival of Agan Panchami, thousands of pilgrims gather at Ghodaghodi, walking barefoot along forest paths with offerings of flowers, fruits, milk, and water. Polluting the water or harming its creatures is believed to invite misfortune. These unwritten cultural rules have conserved the wetland for generations, long before it was declared a wetland of global importance. In the central highlands of Bhutan lies the Gangtey-Phobji in a wide glacial valley. The Ramsar site is the prime wintering habitat for the globally vulnerable, black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Black necked crane"> <figcaption>Black-necked crane in Phobji. ALEX TREADWAY / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  An annual festival at the Gangtey monastery welcomes the arrival of the cranes in November. Locals revere the birds as sacred messengers, and they are believed to bring blessings and prosperity. It is these beliefs that have helped preserve Bhutan’s flagship Ramsar site. In West Sikkim, the Khachoedpalri wetland was declared a Ramsar site in 2025. This Himalayan high-altitude wetland ecosystem and its surrounding temperate forests provide critical habitat for many species of flora and fauna, and the wetland serves as an important habitat and stopover site for migratory birds. But more importantly, it has religious significance as a pilgrimage site and is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus as a wish-fulfilling lake. It is these values that have supported its conservation from time immemorial. These wetlands are recognised internationally as Ramsar sites for their ecological and other attributes. However, the very cultural practices that preserved these wetlands, along with new external pressures, now threaten them. Many are now increasingly under threat due to growing human intervention – including misplaced practices such as the ritual release of exotic fish by the faithful. Some religious bodies now advise against these practices. Many others are drying out, silting up, or polluted by upstream activity. As these changes intensify, there is concern that not only biodiversity, but also the cultural practices and spiritual values tied to the wetlands may begin to fade. As we mark this year’s World Wetlands Day on 2 February with the theme ‘Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Cultural Heritage’ it is a reminder that wetlands are not only ecosystems – they are rich cultural spaces. Traditional knowledge and belief systems have quietly conserved these wetlands for centuries, showing that when people revere nature, protection becomes a way of life. It is this profound connection, where culture nurtures ecology that we must safeguard to ensure neither wetlands nor the heritage they hold fade away. Sunita Chaudhary is the Biodiversity Lead at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

pashupati-area-development-trust

Unholy developments at holy sites

Adding fuel to the funeral pyres

Adding fuel to the funeral pyres

Maha Shivaratri

Mass migration from Muktikot

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

Cleaning up the Himalayan airshed

Where culture meets ecology