The Nepali art scene is seeing a surge of interest in performance art. However, it is not a novelty because of its origins in the blend of painting, theatre, and poetry. Interdisciplinary artists like Jivan Acharya, Ashmina Ranjit, <a href="https://salil.blog/music-portfolio/">Salil Subedi</a>, and Mahima Singh have used blended art forms to draw attention to socio-political issues such as state violence, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-struggles-to-balance-nature-and-industry">exploitation of natural resources</a>, and gender inequality. In 2014, Amrit Karki, a fine arts student at Kathmandu University, put together a 13-minute showpiece Fire and Ice at the Taragaon Museum in which he cut off locks of his hair and burnt them on a singing bowl in a visceral depiction of personal attachment and abandonment. “At the time, I was researching and exploring different trends in contemporary art. I was deeply struck by <a href="https://www.guggenheim.org/artwork/11412">Francis Alÿs and his ‘When Faith Moves Mountains’ </a>and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2023/sep/25/marina-abramovics-shocking-rhythm-0-performance-shows-why-we-still-cannot-trust-people-in-power">Marina Abramović and her ‘Rhythm Zero’.</a> I realised that art could move beyond the confines of a painting,” explains Karki. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali-on-canvas">The Karnali on canvas</a>, Sewa Bhattarai Over the years, Pokhara native Karki has continued to explore this idea further. In his fifth performance art titled<a href="https://www.amritkarki.com.np/2023/03/blog-post.html"> Breathing Through the Stillness</a> in 2022, Karki stood still for more than four hours as masons constructed a brick wall around his body.&nbsp; The audience stood and watched as the bricklayers mixed cement, measured the alignments of the bricks, and stacked the bricks. In the end, the newly-constructed brick wall fell behind Karki as he walked out. Karki’s latest work ‘What You Have Given Me, I Set Free Forever’ at the Nepal Art Council last week was a part of the Rubin Museum’s exhibition ‘Reimagine: Himalayan Art Now’, and Abramović was one of the co-curators. <a href="https://hbr.org/2016/11/marina-abramovi">Abramović</a>, a Serbian conceptual and performance artist, is famous for probing the relationship between performer and audience along with experimentation of endurance art. Karki’s new work, unsurprisingly, has the audience actively participating in the making of art. The room was warm and stuffy, there was no ventilation in the wide, white-walled room. In the middle was a skeletal dome-like structure made of copper arcs that converged to form a space for an upside down receptacle.&nbsp; A giant copper water storage drum nearby contained dyed water maintained at room temperature. It was colourless the first day, yellow the second, green the third, blue the fourth and then finally red. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-new-generation-of-alternative-artists">Nepal's new generation of alternative artists</a>, Ashish Dhakal From 12PM to 6PM every day for the duration of the performance, Karki wore a white shirt and pants and sat on a raised copper pedestal and a white cushion just below the receptacle which had a hole on its tip.&nbsp; The audience could take a jug of water from the drum and fill the receptacle so that a steady stream of dyed water poured on Karki’s head, cascading down his body, and staining his white shirt and pants. The deliberate choice of the dye colours mimicked the pattern of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lets-only-buy-bio-degradable-prayer-flags"> prayer flags</a> which in turn symbolises the five elements: air, space, fire, water, and earth. The artist's statement that how “viewers will witness the gradual accumulation of everything the artist has accepted from them and set free forever” suggests the influence of the Buddhist philosophy of letting go of earthly burdens and belongings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240925110928_90381a95c139fa3a9e0f92a9dcbbf2592bcba5eb337521d69c29a561502e1aa9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240925110928_90381a95c139fa3a9e0f92a9dcbbf2592bcba5eb337521d69c29a561502e1aa9" data-rendition-name="original" width="5137" height="3425" loading="lazy" alt="Amrit Karki's performance art "> <figcaption>Photo: Sumit Dangol</figcaption> </figure>  “Having the chance to discuss my performance art with her was a grateful experience. Even a small comment from her helped illuminate the impact of my performance art,” says Karki of Abramović who has been a constant inspiration for the artist. Karki often embraced himself. His right arm caresses his left shoulder, rubbing it, and after six hours of sitting still under the stream of water, his body looks stiff and tense.&nbsp; His chest area and the cushion on which he sat was stained dark green. His long hair had been tied into a bun which the stream of water hit. If no one filled the receptacle, Karki’s shirt would remain unstained.&nbsp; While the performance does nudge viewers to pour the water on the receptacle as a “visual reminder of the things that daily pollute and burden the mind”, the act of doing so also raises a moral question: how fair is it for someone to hand over one’s burdens onto others? Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/all-the-world-is-a-stage-in-kathmandu">All the world is a stage in Kathmandu</a>, Sewa Bhattarai&nbsp; The interval between visitors felt empty, everyone in the room waited with bated breath as Karki stared ahead, his eyes vacant, but they were also periods of respite.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240925110928_c5f06447c7553f0e104ccb05423ea2e62cfb2fda21d5b935ac01b22a19f9b7b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240925110928_c5f06447c7553f0e104ccb05423ea2e62cfb2fda21d5b935ac01b22a19f9b7b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="4821" height="3214" loading="lazy" alt="Amrit Karki's performance art"> <figcaption>Photo: Kripa Shakya</figcaption> </figure>  Sitting still for six hours a day while a stream of water is poured on top of your head must test the limits of human endurance. At one point, Karki raised his right foot and rested it gently on top of his left foot. The soles of his feet were also lightly stained green. “The extent and impact of audience participation depends upon the idea and concept of the creators but it is when audiences are allowed to participate that the performance art becomes stronger,” says Karki. “On the last day, the receptacle was almost always filled through the day. The more people felt connected with my performance, the more they participated.”

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Performing art that sets us free

<img width="1500" height="1547" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71529c7e80680e0600c6jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Sarah Yonzan Giri never intended to become a sign-language expert. The wife of Nepal’s famous Panchayat-era prime minister, she was living in Bangalore in 2002 when she wandered into a class for sign language by chance.“The room was silent, but there was a lot of animated signing going on,” Giri remembers. “They were shouting, but I could not hear them.”She had found her life’s mission: advocacy of deaf rights. And recently, she has found that this passion extends to the rights of blind people as well. This has given her a unique vantage point from which she can compare the two worlds, and understand and articulate the unique needs of their inhabitants.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11537#.XiliMP4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Sarah's children</a>Giri recalls her moment of epiphany: “I realised that I had been Deaf with a capital D, or culturally deaf. I could hear very well, but I was completely deaf to the unique language of the deaf community.” Back in Nepal, she started helping the deaf community organise art exhibitions, since the visible world is so important to those whose hearing is impaired. Every wall in Giri’s 3-storey house in Kathmandu is covered with works of deaf art — paintings that express the feelings and experiences of deaf people. In one painting, bells clang and bricks fall to one side of the canvass, while feathers float on the other, suggesting that for deaf people, loud sounds fall as gently as down.Giri says deaf people want a channel of communication with the rest of the world, but for that they need proper schools where they can learn standardised sign languages. If not, they will be stuck with making improvised signs and communicating only with those close to them. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=39575&amp;preview_nonce=35bdcd61ca&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Listening to the hearing impaired</a>, Nunuta Rai <figure><img width="640" height="515" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71559c7e80680e0600c7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="486" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71599c7e80680e0600c8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Every country has its own sign language – and learning at least standardised Nepali sign enables deaf people to communicate with others who know it in Nepal. It is best if they learn American sign too, which is quickly becoming the lingua franca for deaf people like English is for those who hear.Giri herself is fluent in Nepali, Indian and American sign languages (each of which are completely different from each other) and communicates animatedly in all three. Her husband Tulsi Giri was always supportive of her work, but she took time off from it to care for him before his death in 2018.One day after her husband passed away, Giri was walking along the Vishnumati when she heard a plaintive voice singing. “It was really strong and it touched my heart,” recalls Giri, who on following the sound to its source found the singer to be blind. Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/dayaram-maharjan%20-making-disabled-children-more-able,2507" target="_blank" rel="noopener">More able</a>, Sajana Baral  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APd7QswuPN4She invited him home, and along the way described everything to him: the roads, trees and buildings outside. Giri says she learnt then that sound is as important to the blind as visuals are to deaf people.After working with people with two different types of disabilities, Giri has insights into their unique worlds. For example, the deaf have two names – one given by their parents which they may never have never heard and may not answer to, and one in sign language which they identify with. “Lighting is very important for deaf people. Something that normal people would see as mysterious dim light settings would not appeal to them, because they cannot sign and talk there,” she expalins.It is just the opposite with blind people, where light is not important, but sound and touch is. When Giri brings her blind friends home, she describes everything to them — the colour of her living room, the texture of the table in front of them, what lies behind them or beside them. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18615#.Xiljef4zbIW" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Different, but able</a>, Bhrikuti Rai  <figure><img width="640" height="466" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b715d9c7e80680e0600c9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71609c7e80680e0600cajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>She often takes blind friends on a walk to get them familiar with their surroundings because they may trip and fall in new places. “We can control things in familiar places, but the world is a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/seeing-it-a-different-way-for-visually-impaired-in-Kathmandu,2933" target="_blank" rel="noopener">live hazard for blind people</a>,” she says. “We put construction materials on pavements, and sometimes street animals are lying around.”Giri says she has learnt from the disabled community that they do not want to be just helped or pitied. They want to be contributing members of society.Her fondest example is a recent outing to Raksha Nepal, an organisation that helps sexually exploited women, that she made with a band of musicians called Prayas, where all the musicians are blind. The visit was healing for both communities.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-right-of-passage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The right of passage</a>, Sahina Shrestha <figure><img width="5472" height="3648" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b71639c7e80680e0600cbjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Giri also helped organise an IT challenge with Bright Star Society, in partnership with hotel Yak and Yeti. Bright Star was founded by a blind friend Sushil Adhikari. Gautam Pokharel, the first blind person to pass the public service commission examinations and become a Nepal Telecom officer, won the challenge. Giri speaks with pride about these men and about many activist friends within the blind community.“I admire the work of Shristi KC, who lost her eyesight late in life and now helps friends through the organisation <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/blind-rockers-2019/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Blind Rocks</a>," she says. "Laxmi Nepal, Sanjiya Shrestha, and Sarita Lamichane work on empowering women and help protect them from gender-based violence. This thread of sensitivity, interest in human values and spiritual quest runs right across the community,” says Giri.“The blind people often do not exercise correctly, because they cannot see how to do it. I want to give audio instructions for exercise for blind people, and am currently looking for open space in which to do so,” she says. With her rich immersion in these two contrasting worlds of experience, her sensitivity to difference, and her strong motivation to help, Giri is determined to do what she can to help Nepal’s deaf and blind people. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18634#.XilkUP4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Not seeing is believing</a>, Lochana Sharma<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/seeing-it-a-different-way-for-visually-impaired-in-Kathmandu,2933" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Seeing it a different way</a>, Smriti Basnet

Hearing for the deaf, seeing for the blind

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110815110/636a61029c7e80680e056eacjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="921"/><figcaption>Photo: JAYADEV KRISHNA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>Rajkumar Shrestha flicked his baton, musicians raised their instruments, and the audience at the Academy Hall in Kathmandu stood up for Nepal’s national anthem gloriously rendered with violins, violas, cello, sitar and flute by a 60-member orchestra.The lyrics of 'Sayaun Thunga Phool Ka Hami, Eutai Mala Nepali' ('We are different flowers of the same garland') evoke Nepal’s ethnic diversity, but last Wednesday they also defined the diversity of the musicians from Norway and Nepal, of various ages and ethnicities.And because this was a project of the Nepali-Norwegian Orchestra, the soothing tones of the Norwegian national anthem came next. In the centre of the orchestra, surrounded by violinists, was Eivind Rossbach Heier from the string quartet KvartalKvartetten on the cello, alongside his father who played the viola.Raised in a musical family with his mother, a cellist, and his sister a violinist, Heier first came to Nepal in 2015 as an instructor with 3 other tutors and 15 young people through a youth orchestra in Norway. Their goal was to teach Nepali musicians classical music in order to establish orchestras in the country.The Annapurna Chamber Orchestra met the Norwegian musicians from KvartalKvartetten through the World Federation of Amateur Orchestras. The project trains Nepali students for a week and organises performances in different venues of Kathmandu.Ten Nepali musicians also go to Norway for the week-long annual Orchestra Summer Course to interact and exchange music with their Norwegian counterparts. During the course, Nepali and Norwegian musicians play music from both countries even though they sound completely different.Says Heier: “Despite their differences, the appreciation of music is universal. Nepali music has more melodies but not many harmonies, which is the biggest difference from Western music. But it is the language of music that brings us together.”The exchange has also helped the musicians learn about Nepal through music and share a commonality. “It was interesting that after we heard the translated titles of the Nepali songs, we were reminded of patriotic songs from Norway as well,” said music instructor Ole Rasmus Bjerke.In the last five years of the project, the instructors as well as the young musicians know that their music has improved. “I used to play in the junior orchestra, and now I play with the seniors. I can feel the difference and my confidence building up,” says 18-year-old Bikalp Singh Dura.The number of Nepali musicians has also doubled since 2015, from 30 to 60, and is projected to expand in coming years. They range in age from 10 to 60.“The future of the Nepali orchestra is bright. It is growing through these programs,” says Rajkumar Shrestha, conductor and chairman of The Annapurna Chamber Orchestra. “The only challenge is that most students leave the country after Grade 12 for higher studies and we lose good musicians.”

Nepal-Norway orchestra finds harmonies

Nepal’s newest music festival is guaranteed to start with a bang. Surya Nepal Drum Jatra next week will feature the heavy beats of metal, wood and leather drums alongside delicate sounds of bells and singing bowls. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/making-the-sound-of-music-in-patan,3976" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The damphu, madal and dholak will inject a Nepali flavour</a> to this international event.“We want to showcase the variety of styles we have in drums because Nepal is so rich in them, but we hardly ever celebrate drums,” says festival organiser Navin Chhetri. “Every major city in the world has drum festivals, except Kathmandu — we wanted to start something new.”Kathmandu will reverberate 24-29 June with Drum Jatra concerts that will feature Nepali sounds like Naykhibaja, the drumming of the butcher community in Bhaktapur, which was almost lost due to caste stigma, and Tamang Selo, which embodies the history of that hill community.Foreign rhythms will sound out courtesy of the Australian didgeridoo and in the person of Esad Halilovich, an acclaimed drummer from Vienna who will add a Balkan flavour.Along with performances, a series of workshops by experts will allow aspiring drummers to tap into Nepali percussion styles and Afro-Brazilian beats. Events will take place all over the city, culminating with the finale at Summit Hotel on 29 June.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-and-all-that-jazz/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu, and all that jazz …</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46709c7e80680e04d3dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/>Esad HalilovicJazz drummer, composer and teacher based in Vienna the trio-playing Halilovice has presented his compositions at renowned international jazz festivals. He will also be giving workshops on hand techniques for drummers and improvisation of drum sets.Performs: Traditional folk music from the Balkans in the language of contemporary jazz.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46739c7e80680e04d3dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">Kathmandu Baja PucaA young group performing in the Naykhibaja tradition. Nay refers to Newar butchers, with whom the tradition originated, khi means drum, and baja denotes an instrument or musical ensemble. The butchers were considered untouchable, and their musical legacy was forgotten as youngsters rejected it because of the caste stigma.Performs: The recovered Naykhibaja repertoire with pride, with determination to preserve it for future.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46779c7e80680e04d3dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="932">Abhaya Krishna ShresthaMusician, composer and ethnomusicologist with expertise in processional drumming in Kathmandu Valley, Shrestha documents different Nepali drumming traditions, exploring ways to bring them into the academic realm and international contemporary music. His initiative to learn the Naykhibaja of Bhaktapur's Newar butcher community has raised its profile.Performs: Dhimaybaja, Navabaja of Bhaktapur, Naykhibaja of butchers of Bhaktapur, and Dapha music.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a467a9c7e80680e04d3ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption>All Photos: MUSIC ROOM/DRUM JATRA</figcaption></figure>Salil SubediA pioneer didgeridoo player who has explored the ancient wind instrument’s potential beyond music, employing it in theatre, performance art, sound art, and social and public art for educational, social and cultural causes. His central theme is nature and spirituality.Performs: unique styles of didgeridoo as a percussive and rhythmic instrument, revealing the versatile nature of the instrument and the performer.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a467d9c7e80680e04d3dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Kiran SahiA drummer and percussionist with a long record of performance and teaching, Sahiis best known for playing with the Nepali progressive rock band Jindabaad and the jazz ensembles Le-piro Quintet and Mad Jazz Quintet.Performs: Drums and other percussion instruments with a flavour of progressive rock and jazz.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a467f9c7e80680e04d3dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1042">Rabin Lal ShresthaA leading figure of classical music in Nepal, and one of the country’s most respected and renowned musical performers, recording artists and educators, Shrestha taught music in the royal palace for over two decades. He has lectured and headed a department at the Fine Arts Campus of Tribhuvan University.Performs: Percussion instruments in classical style.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46839c7e80680e04d3e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Naresh PrajapatiA percussionist specialising in Madal Tarang, Prajapati studied traditional Nepali percussion under the maestros Nuchhe Bhadur Dangol and Rabin Lal Shrestha, and his work appears on albums such as Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia Live! in Nepal.Performs: A wide range of traditional drums like madal, tabla, dholak, shimmy and khi.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46869c7e80680e04d3e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Navin ChettriA percussionist, vocalist, composer and music educator, and founder and artistic director of the Kathmandu Jazz Festival (popularly called Jazzmandu). Chhetri is a pioneer of jazz in Nepal, and a driving force behind its growth.Performs: Jazz, Nepali folk, Indian classical, West African, Afro -Cuban and Brazilian rhythms<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46899c7e80680e04d3e2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Mangal Man MaharjanAn accomplished singing- bowl artist, as well as theatre practitioner and Charya dancer, Maharjan is a keen collector and historian of singing bowls, and strives to unearth the ancient roots of the bowls in Newari culture.Performs: Singing bowl, in order to preserve and revive its traditions in the Kathmandu Valley.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a468c9c7e80680e04d3e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1217" height="824">Tamba GroupA group performing in the Tamang Selo style, a musical tradition central to Tamang culture. Tamba songs are one of the oldest and most prized parts of Tamang musical tradition and integral to rituals and habits that mark the course of every Tamang’s life, from birth to death. This ensemble presents a glimpse of Tamang culture and history.Performs: Tamang rituals, folktales and beliefs to the rhythmic accompaniment of the Damphu drum.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a468f9c7e80680e04d3e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="934"><a href="http://cadenzacollective.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cadenza Collective</a>A unique and eclectic band in Kathmandu. From humble beginnings in the early 1990s as a rock, funk and reggae outfit, Cadenza went on to become among the first bands to experiment with jazz in Nepal, pumping vitality into the country's improvised music scene.Performs: Jazz, afro-funk and Nepali folk music, creating a genre-bending sound that’s irresistible to the ears.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/jazzmandu-finale/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jazzmandu Finale</a>, Sewa BhattaraiWORKSHOP SCHEDULE24 June10:00 am- 11:00 am / Hand technique for Drummers - Esad Loliovich11:00 am - 12:00pm / Nepali Folk Percussion Presentation - Abhay Shrestha1:00pm - 2:00 pm / Essential Grooves for Jazz Drummers - Navin Chettri2:00pm- 3:00pm /Afro - Cuban / Brazilian Rhythm Section - Navin Chettri25 June10:00 am- 11:00 am / J Dilla on Drumset - Kiran Shahi11:00 am - 12:00pm / Madal Tarang - Naresh Prajapati1:00pm - 2:00 pm / Essential Grooves for Jazz Drummers - Navin Chettri2:00pm- 3:00pm /Afro - Cuban / Brazilian Rhythm Section - Navin Chettri26 June10:00 am- 11:00 am / Drum-set Improvisation - Esad Loliovich11:00 am - 12:00pm / Healing with Singing Bowls - Mangal Man Maharajan1:00pm - 2:00 pm / Essential Grooves for Jazz Drummers - Navin Chettri2:00pm- 3:00pm /Afro - Cuban / Brazilian Rhythm Section - Navin ChettriCONCERT SCHEDULE26 JUNEDRUM JATRA AT UPSTAIRS‘Cadenza &amp; Multi Drummers’Show Time: 8:00pm to 10:00pmVenue: Jazz Upstairs, LazimpatTicket: Rs 500/-Multiple drummers come together with Cadenza Collective to create a night of infectious grooves at Jazz Upstairs.(Gates open at 7:30pm. Seats are based on a first-come, first-served basis, and are not guaranteed with a ticket).JUNE 27DRUM JATRA AT MOKSH‘Cadenza &amp; Multi Drummers’Show Time: 8:00pm to 10:00pmVenue: Moksh, JhamsikhelTicket: Rs 500/-Bringing Cadenza &amp; Multi Drummers across the bridge to Moksh, a special showcase of multiple drummers with Cadenza Collective.(Gates open at 7:30pm. Seats are based on a first-come, first-served basis, and are not guaranteed with a ticket).JUNE 28EKTAAL'Subtle Sounds of Percussions'Show Time: 7:00pm to 9:00pmVenue: Kantipur Temple House, ThamelTicket: Rs 1000/-Featuring the subtle, delicate and charismatic colours of drums at Kantipur Temple House with visiting drummers and some of Nepal's top traditional percussionists.(Gates open at 6:30pm and closes at 7:30pm. Seats are based on a first-come, first-served basis, and are not guaranteed with a ticket).JUNE 29DRUM JATRA FINALEShow Time: 7:00pm to 9:00pmVenue: Summit Hotel, Sanepa HeightTicket: Rs 800/-The Finale will showcase some of the top festival performers, with high-energy drumming traditions spanning from western percussion ensembles, African drumming styles and Brazilian rhythms to traditional Nepali drums, such as Madal tarang and Women’s Tamang Selo ensemble.(Gates open at 6:30pm. Seats are based on a first-come, first-served basis, and are not guaranteed with a ticket).

DRUM ROLL

Sha Bahadur Gurung was 30 years old when he was arrested for participating in a peaceful protest. He died aged 65 last week in Bhutan’s Chamgang Central Prison. He was among 31 prisoners of conscience in Bhutan, many of whom are serving long sentences for opposing the regime’s forcible expulsion of 100,000 of its Lhotsampa people in the early 1990s. ‘Mr Gurung died on 15 December in his prison cell under circumstances that raise serious concerns about custodial negligence and long-term abuse,” said a statement by the Global Campaign for the Release of Political Prisoners in Bhutan (GCRPPB) based in The Hague which demanded an external probe, justice and release of remaining political prisoners. Gurung was from Chirang and was arrested in 1990 while serving in the Royal Bhutan Army, and accused of having sympathies for the Lhotsampa people. He was mostly held at the notorious Rabuna Prison in Wangdi Phodrang District.&nbsp; Gurung’s relatives in the United States said he had endured prolonged physical and psychological abuse during his imprisonment, and repeatedly subjected to torture and inhumane treatment. They believe the decades of ill-treatment had damaged his health, ultimately leading to his death. Earlier this month, Gurung was transferred from Rabuna to Chamgang Central Prison. On 14 December. He had gone to bed after dinner without any visible sign of distress. He was found unconscious in his cell the next morning.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224151248_5fc8305ecd320d89b9e343c04a1a897dc1353353da55b6d277f5398034b265ea" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="1103" loading="lazy" alt="Sha Bahadur Gurung NT"> <figcaption>Sha Bahadur Gurung, who died at age 65 in prison in Bhutan after serving 30 years for expressing political opinion.</figcaption> </figure>  He was referred to a hospital in Thimphu, suggesting that he was still alive during transfer to a local health post. But it appears that he had already died before being taken from prison. Gurung’s death occurred two days before Bhutan’s National Day on 17 December, when families, supporters, and human rights advocates worldwide had hoped for the release of political prisoners through a royal amnesty. Instead, the death of one of the longest-serving political prisoners has caused grief and anger in the Bhutanese diaspora.&nbsp; “We strongly condemn the treatment and death of Gurung, a peaceful and justice-loving Bhutanese citizen,” the V statement said. ‘This tragedy raises serious questions about the treatment of political prisoners in Bhutan and stands in stark contrast to the country’s international image under the principles of Gross National Happiness, compassion, and mindfulness.’ Earlier this year, The <a href="https://www.ohchr.org/en/special-procedures/wg-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention/opinions-adopted-working-group-arbitrary-detention-its-101st-session" target="_blank">United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention</a> said the Bhutan government was detaining citizens without parole for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/detainees-in-dire-straits-in-bhutan-s-prisons" target="_blank">expressing political opinion</a>. The New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said in 2023 that there were least 37 <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/13/bhutan-free-long-term-political-prisoners" target="_blank">political prisoners</a> in Bhutan’s jails. Of them, 32 belong to the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampa community, which has faced <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2003/06/18/nepal-bhutanese-refugees-rendered-stateless" target="_blank">decades of discrimination and abuse</a> and eviction. Most of them were convicted because of prohibited political activity between 1990 and 2008. One political prisoner, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-country-for-dissent?fbclid=IwAR07lpitMBWAYSkny_3d_smQBlmoxAOQm1OxdNtl-27h8mV0RNO9IxVY2qs" target="_blank">Madhukar Monger</a>, who was released in 2023 after serving 29 years described brutal conditions in <a href="https://www.hrw.org/asia/bhutan" target="_blank">Bhutan</a>'s jails. Political prisoners were not given enough food, and medical care, he said, urging the internaitoonal community to press for the release of prisoners of conscience.&nbsp; In March, <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/meenakshi-ganguly" target="_blank">Meenakshi Ganguly</a>, Deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch, urged Bhutan’s international partners to call on the Bhutan government to release all remaining political prisoners immediately.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20251224161216_9d11a78ed5490091c595341900e4c26f5c0dd0328718f6930ef19c1e9b7f95a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1422" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251224161216_176855f3d3df42d24ac7e77372bbf49115695b732a6c094a66267e969111dfca" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1420" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan political prisoners NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;

Bhutan political prisoner dies in detention

‘Get out of my house.’ ‘All my sickness is because of you.’ ‘You’re a millstone around my neck.’ Arundhati Roy heard these admonitions from her mother over and over throughout her life.&nbsp; This must be a singular, yet universal experience. There must be very few daughters who make it through life unscathed by their mothers. And vice-versa.&nbsp; How many of our mothers look at us and see in us the potential of all of the lives they could have lived? How many resent us for it, or want us to live those lives in their stead? And how many of us look back at our mothers and imagine what they would have achieved had they not been expected and assigned to play the role of wife, daughter-in-law, mother — had we never existed in their lives? How many mothers project their experiences onto their own daughters and continue the cycle? No daughter seems to escape it — no matter how well-behaved, docile, unruly, or rebellious. Certainly not the child who would go on to become a Booker prize-winning author. Arundhati Roy’s memoir Mother Mary Comes To Me chronicles her complex relationship with her mother Mary, or Mrs Roy, as her educator mother had her two children refer to her. In December, Arundhati Roy was in Kathmandu to sign books and briefly interact with readers at two bookshops in the city. She describes a childhood overshadowed by her mother’s volatility towards her and her brother. Mary herself was raised by an abusive father to escape whom she married the first man who proposed — Arundhati’s father who in her mother’s words turned out to be an alcoholic ‘Nothing Man’.&nbsp; Mary left her husband in Assam and eventually wound up with her two children in her town of Aymanam in Kerala, encountering other family members along the way who did not treat her, or her children with respect. The trauma and cruelty her mother endured could not be contained in her body, and spilled out onto her two children, towards whom she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive.&nbsp; While she treated her children with disregard, she would build a school in the nearby town of Kottayam from the ground up, educate thousands of children, take up a legal fight that led to the Supreme Court granting Syrian Christian women in India equal inheritance rights, and uplift many orphaned children and women in Kerala.&nbsp; Arundhati lived with both her mother’s brutality and brilliance. And like her daughter, readers must reconcile the indefensible parts of Mary Roy’s personality — the cruelty of calling her nine-year-old daughter a bitch, or shooting the family dog that mated with a stray — with her unyielding drive to educate thousands, fight for equal rights, and challenge the way her world viewed women.&nbsp; Mrs Roy had little kindness for her own children, but plenty for the students, children, and women whose lives she shaped, and made better. And her kindness was not rooted in empathy, but in anger at the hand she had been dealt in life. Eventually, Arundhati decided to temporarily cut all contact with Mrs Roy — not because she did not love her, she writes, but so that she could continue to love her. Her desire to get away from her abusive mother, and her fascination with the ideas inspired by the architect who built her mother’s school, would lead her to the Delhi School of Architecture at age 16. In Delhi, Arundhati became roommates with Hisila Yami before she and her Maoist ideologue husband Baburam Bhattarai went underground to lead Nepal’s decade-long armed struggle. &nbsp; But architecture was not her calling. In Delhi, the heart of India’s statecraft, Arundhati came into young adulthood against a backdrop of the country’s changing socio-politics, which began to take a turn for the hyper-nationalist, Hindu supremacist community that it has now largely become. The winds of those changes have now blown into Nepal. In the city, far from her mother, Arundhati met the man who would become her partner of many years, collaborating with him on several films and screenplays before finding the language (‘I needed to hunt [language] down like prey,’ she writes) she needed to become the writer she is now.&nbsp; She went on to write her Booker prize-winning novel The God of Small Things, but the wealth and status the book brought her did not sit comfortably. So she smashed her newly-built gilded cage, as she describes it, and became more political. Contrary to norm, she published several works of non-fiction, and would only publish her second novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, in 2017, 20 years after The God of Small Things. &nbsp;&nbsp; Her fierce opposition to India’s nuclear policies, to a dam that would displace millions of indigenous people and ecologically damage the Narmada Valley, her championing of Kashmiri self-determination, and her time spent with Maoist rebels in the forests of Chhattisgarh as they took up arms to defend their land and resources against corporate interests made her an enemy of the state.&nbsp; Meanwhile, being raised by a single mother had never sat well within her Syrian Christian community. ‘I wasn't Christian enough. I wasn't Hindu enough. I wasn't communist enough. I wasn't enough,’ Roy writes in her memoir. For all her love for India, the nation did not seem to reciprocate. The circumstances might be different, but it might strike a chord with readers in Nepal, many of whom marched on the streets in September hoping for a better tomorrow, but were gunned down by the very institutions meant to protect them. It might resonate with those who are not seen as citizens of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood.&nbsp; Arundhati’s relationship with her mother, who was simultaneously proud and disdainful of her daughter’s accomplishments, continued to be tumultuous until the end of Mary Roy’s life.&nbsp; One of Mrs Roy’s last messages to her daughter before she passed was: ‘There is no one in the world whom I have loved more than you.’ Arundhati muses that her lifelong refusal to stop loving her mother must have finally breached her barriers. One wonders if that final declaration of love was solace enough, apology enough, for all the pain caused.&nbsp; But for Arundhati Roy, her love for her mother and her motherland outweighs the cruelty both have shown her. This, too, must be a singular, yet universal experience.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025122208128_32b171acb09df2184495367b74efd91fe2896b0f5ba75b276e1533276268761c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Mother Mary Comes to Me review"> </figure>

The sins of our mothers

From its headwaters near Mansarovar on the Tibetan Plateau to its confluence with the Ganga in India, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/faith-to-reality">the Karnali</a> remains one of the last great free-flowing rivers in the Himalaya. At a time when most major Asian rivers have been dammed by concrete, the Karnali still surges, migrates, floods and recedes according to its own natural rhythms. This sustains an entire living system -- wildlife, communities and cultures — that cannot be replicated once a river is turned into a staircase of reservoirs. The Karnali is a natural artery for western Nepal. It nourishes fertile floodplains, recharges aquifers, supports fisheries and connects remote communities.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251221101240_213faa0e9da42af63e6c4f8a41e23a96efbd9f29a1d148227d65d2f16bb64b53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Confluence of the Humla and Mugu Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  Bardia National Park and its rich biodiversity, including the tiger and fresh water dolphins, depend on the river and its seasonal interaction with the floodplain and wetlands. Riverine birds, crocodilians, endemic fish, all depend on the river. Millions of people in Nepal and India rely on the Karnali (called Ghaghara in India) for household use, irrigation and livelihoods. This living river now faces <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dams-and-dreams-a-journey-down-the-karnali">a cascade of proposed hydropower projects</a>. So far, the Upper Karnali &nbsp;(900MW) and the massive Karnali-Chisapani (10,800MW) have been purposed. Both have been mired in controversy and have been delayed. Construction of smaller projects like the Bheri-Babai Diversion are already underway.&nbsp; The Upper Karnali is a Rs146 billion project first purposed in 2006. It started construction earlier this year with the Indian conglomerate GMR leading the task. Even so it faces a setback as Bangladesh cancelled the power purchase deal of 500MW.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025122109124_80c381c4299dd7e18dbbcacb26e567edc5cfffba76d428e3b325dd194eae8a47" data-rendition-name="original" width="4284" height="5712" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Free-flowing Upper Karnali.</figcaption> </figure>  The project is located on the stupendous Karnali Bend where the water can be pushed through a 2.5km tunnel over a drop of 130m, creating a huge generation capacity. But Nepal’s move towards big dams comes at a time when scientists warn of more extreme weather events like floods and landslides in the already fragile Himalayan landscape. Nepal now needs investment in storage projects as most hydropower plants are of the run-of-river type, which means power generation drops in the dry season. But a piecemeal dam-by-dam approach risks destroying a unique resource for benefits that could be achieved elsewhere with far less ecological cost. Once a free-flowing river is fragmented, its sediment delivery is choked, fish migrations are cut off, floodplains dry out and local cultures that revolve around seasonal flows begin to unravel. These changes are effectively permanent.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025122109120_4f59b09b6e03889457b9b98d72d6b604d3519895f8825b4b03f486d67ea299af" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Local children play indigenous musical instrument.</figcaption> </figure>  “The Karnali is the last and most pristine Himalayan River left, most others are already exploited. It should be protected as a wild, scenic, free flowing river as a gift to future generations,” says activist Megh Ale, who wants the river to be developed as an eco-tourism corridor on the pilgrim trail to Mt Kailash and Mansarovar.&nbsp; “We have many big tributaries to the Karnali,” Ale adds. “We can keep the main stream of the river as free flowing, and develop hydro projects on the tributaries. More than 6,000MW can be produced without touching the main river stem.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025122109128_223faf7f50c43f3bf008a7745b90131fa91975689109533b71ed7d9dcdb8c53e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1875" height="2500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Rafters say Karnali is one of the best places for white water rafting in the world.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has abundant alternatives to hydropower: solar energy has been hardly tapped, and integrating them with pump storage systems are cheap, quick to build and are low impact. Smarter siting and design, modern transmission links and regional power trading can deliver reliable energy without sacrificing the country’s last pristine river. Preserving the Karnali would also pay dividends in climate resilience: free-flowing rivers buffer <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-denial-in-the-himalaya">extreme floods and droughts</a>, carry sediment that builds deltas and replenishes nutrients on farmland, and provide insurance against glacial and monsoon variability.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025122109124_a5726642ee785b624ee3e6d81a051091c91a8d388dba8c33f4a03bab1fddc97f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1875" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Tharu women repair a channel fed by the Karnali, which is a life line for their farms.</figcaption> </figure>  The Karnali is also a cultural and economic asset in its own right. As a rare, undammed Himalayan river, it underpins nature-based tourism, scientific research, and a way of life for Indigenous and local communities. Kalashtham Tharu, 32, is an elephant mahout in Bardia, and says the Karnali is an important source of water for animals and farming. Diversion for irrigation near Chisapani has meant that a channel going into Bardia National Park has gone dry, affecting biodiversity and nearby farms. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025122109120_6d3a45a440263e859d64c427a8543c6ede5a447a411797d25a6a41d713d33e91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Panning for gold on the banks of the Karnali. She makes Rs200,000 per year. </figcaption> </figure>  Similarly, the Sonahar community in Bardia relies on the river to pan for gold, their sole source of income. Anita, 40, says there is much less water in the Karnali this year. On an average, she makes Rs200,000 from middlemen for the gold she pans during non-monsoon months. &nbsp; WILD RIVERS Around the world, countries are beginning to recognise the value of keeping a few great rivers wild. Protecting the Karnali would place Nepal at the forefront of that movement and strengthen efforts to seek international recognition for the river’s outstanding natural heritage. Any decision should be grounded in a transparent, basin-wide assessment that weighs the full social, ecological and economic costs—not just the megawatts on a project spreadsheet. That means evaluating alternatives, safeguarding critical habitats and migration routes, and recognising the rights and knowledge of the people who live along the river. It also means asking a simple question: If Nepal can meet its energy goals without damming the Karnali’s main stem, why wouldn’t it?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025122109128_3e357c863de55b397f09cfd666c762de297a8b07ac024a41a8bb5b9e8d3a76cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>River mining the Karnali in Kalaili district causing uneven landscape with the river flowing away from Bardia National park.</figcaption> </figure>  Advocates have petitioned Nepal’s Supreme Court to protect the Karnali, with a hearing scheduled in Kathmandu on 22 December. International lenders and investors should take note: Financing high-impact dams on the Karnali would run counter to emerging global standards on biodiversity, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dancing-with-the-river">climate resilience</a> and free-flowing river protection. Funding clean energy in Nepal should not require sacrificing the country’s most pristine river. For three decades, I have documented the Karnali from its source in Tibet to its entry into India, capturing the river’s seasons and the lives it sustains. The images I have captured and the voices of people who depend on the river, tell a simple truth: a free-flowing Karnali is irreplaceable. Once the concrete is poured, there is no going back.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2025122109128_760ae5218d5f7e961c198da0a6c8696247e34281752a2857de935f9e8aec2c5c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1502" loading="lazy" alt="Karnali"> <figcaption>Inner sanctum of Mt Kailas in the vicinity of Manasarovar and Rakshas lakes in Tibet.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal has many options for generating power. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-karnali-portrait?%2F">It has only one Karnali</a>. Keeping this river wild would be a gift to the living Earth and to future generations — a legacy measured not in megawatts, but in life. Says Megh Ale: “We are very rich in natural resources but manage them very poorly. We want instant solutions but do not have a long-term vision. We are not against development but there needs to be a good balance with nature.” &nbsp;

The river of life

This is the 77th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I was in Grade 3 when my father left for Saudi Arabia. Letters he sent occasionally contained photos. We had to get used to matching the person in the photos with him when he came home. Over two decades later, I left behind my son a day after he was born to go to Korea.&nbsp; He was five when I returned, and he just could not believe I was the same person he spoke on video calls. To convince him that it was indeed me, I had to call him on video from the other room.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251224021240_3eead7a26ee34bab17e1b462d3e53ae8b4dc95151478e55b09f2855989364015" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Technology, it turns out, is no replacement to proximity and physical presence.&nbsp; When my father was in Saudi Arabia, my mother died. My father could not return to Nepal immediately, and my grandmother took in my two sisters and me.&nbsp; My studies took a hit. I started working in a shoe shop, and earned Rs2,100 a month. I wanted to start a shoe shop with support from my father when he returned. He did not, and neither did my other relatives. Perhaps they doubted my business sense. Or they had other priorities.&nbsp; Whatever it was, this feeling of not having someone to back me up hit me deeply but give me confidence. Without alternatives, I decided to prepare to migrate to Korea. I studied for the language exam and was among the first cohort under the G2G scheme. When I was finally matched with a Korean employer, I could not be happier.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251224021248_5f681863a9aa99f31f3241158e636b32aca9fdaa7c3f5c19dd67e3de2068a3b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1064" height="823" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  Not having received any support from those around me, the Korean offer made me feel like I had won in life. My grandmother was happy because it would increase family income. She had three additional mouths to feed, and we were quickly growing up. She worried about getting my sisters married. My first stint in Korea, however, was not what I expected. I had to change jobs multiple times, either because the company I worked for was unable to pay me, there was no work, or I had an accident. The odds just were not in my favour. The global financial crisis had taken a toll on the economy.&nbsp; Even so, I managed to help pay for my sisters' weddings and had modest savings. But there was not much to show for it compared to my peers. Never again, I thought, as I said goodbye to Korea.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251224021240_f303dd30f922776a30a1871b38e5420534e73b99b7b1444b4658c4eca535d043" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="1279" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I came home and got married. I started a mobile repair shop. But it did not work out well either, and I was soon headed back to Korea despite my misgivings. I left a day after my son was born, and this time I was determined to make it work in Korea. I was placed in a company that made golf balls. It paid well, but the job was just for money, I needed to do something more with my future that would help me stand on my own feet once I was back in Nepal. I was intrigued by the three-in-one instant coffee sachets in Korea that had coffee, milk and sugar. Back home in our village in Kaski, our cooperative grew coffee that either went to waste or fetched very low prices. My sisters and I used to pick the sweet and tasty coffee cherries.&nbsp; I saw a great business prospect in turning the beans into coffee sachets, and started exploring this. That was my mission: to make instant coffee packets widely available in Nepal. It was just a matter of understanding the process so I went to a migrant resource centre in Korea to inquire about where I could learn this.&nbsp; I was advised to take barista classes, and I found out that sachet coffee is actually not healthy and I should instead learn about fresh brewed coffee. That seemed even more exciting. How coffee beans could be ground and sold for over Rs450 in Korean cafes that people waited in line for bemused me. During my free time, I spent all my energy learning about coffee. I took training in barista, coffee sensory, machine repair and roasting. I had to rely on the generosity of Koreans who were willing to take a chance on me as I had different constraints such as lack of network, a busy work schedule at my regular job but even then, people offered to help.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251224021244_86bbfcdcbe8925c46efac526225aea226b7987290f8107e991d8e764cbb01155" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee NT"> </figure>  I was so obsessed that whenever I spent time on leisure activities during days off, I felt guilty. My golf ball job was just for income, I had to invest in my real post-Korea life. Balancing work and learning everything about coffee was not easy. Not only did I pay for some of the lessons, I even skipped overtime hours for them. But this was for my future. I must have consulted over a dozen coffee experts in Korea to share their experience and connect me to people. I could not afford to be shy about asking strangers for help. When the pandemic hit, we were granted a one-year visa extension, and I took it as an opportunity to invest in myself. I had seen great business prospects for coffee machine repair service in Pokhara because people had to rely on Kathmandu. But to learn machine repair and maintenance, I had to spend more time and weekend classes were not going to be sufficient.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251224021248_18996ee0b6292070add202cf948f5b0b5a09e5b11022b9d961a68a5a886fc5f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1138" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  I moved to a training company and worked just enough to maintain my legal status. I did not take overtime shifts. Even my roommates barely saw me because I used to come home long after our duty hours from my coffee training. I also needed actual job experience so I asked my trainer to let me shadow him at work.&nbsp; The on-the-job exposure to repair and maintenance work gave me more confidence and expertise. When I returned to Nepal, I came home with a suitcase full of coffee machine parts. I have started a coffee shop called Jumli, provide machine repair services and have also started growing my own coffee. The idea is to be a one stop shop for all players in the coffee industry, whether it is farmers or coffee shop owners who need Nepal-grown coffee or machine repair services or coffee lovers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251224021248_0fd28dab75d1eddbc16ab0aeda2ce7fcd4aceb07e7a381d4ce872b5184bea086" data-rendition-name="original" width="1321" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Jumli coffee DD"> </figure>  It is not always easy being an entrepreneur in Nepal. Sometimes, when I am on shaky ground, I close my eyes and talk to my mother in my head for clarity. Some of these conversations are replays of the things she told me when I was growing up. I didn’t take them seriously then, but now they offer important nuggets of wisdom about life, society, and how to navigate difficult times. I have a lot of hope for the future. I am now laying the groundwork to one day export Nepal’s specialty coffee to the international market, meeting global standards of quality. Programs like the Returnee Innovators for Nepal (RIN) help in equipping you with the skills to better pitch your business and give exposure and networks. Even now, I rely on my trainer in Korea for guidance or to access spare parts that are not available in Nepal. I have come a long way from the day I cluelessly chose ‘American-O’ coffee because it was the easiest drink to pronounce in the menu. I never thought I would be making a living from coffee back home in Nepal one day.&nbsp;

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