“यहाँ वाग्नर कोदाली खनिरहेछन्, शेक्सपियर हलो जोत्ता हुन्, टिसियन र टर्नर भेडा चराउँदा हुन्, सोक्रेटिज गुफामा घोत्लिरहेका होलान्... यहाँ कति साहित्य छ, जो लेखिएकै छैन, न लेखिनेछ।” Wagners and Shakespeares could be ploughing fields here, Tissiens and Turners may be shepherds, Socrates must be living in a desolate cave ... there is so much literature here that is not written and will never be written. This excerpt from the essay के नेपाल सानो छ? (Is Nepal Small?) by poet Laxmi Prasad Devkota that most Nepali students have to learn in school, alludes to treasures of Nepali literature that remain hidden because people are too busy trying to survive.&nbsp; While Devkota’s dialectic may still be true, Nepali writers like Samyak Shertok are taking their literature to international platforms and giving it global recognition. Samyak Shertok is the recent recipient of the 2024 <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fawpwriter.org%2FAWP%2FAWP%2FContests%2FAWP-Award-Series%2FDonald-Hall-Prize%2FOverview.aspx%3Ffbclid%3DIwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR2rtN6pn1xy9O42GhznnQekY96bavYGwHz6pDtNaSGh4qaKXsZKSyvCKDU_aem_bsY7bnUoJoSxEpfxw1UdVQ&amp;h=AT0QnfORyOboQ6xeVZYe-r4CLjYIjtZwIcEsR3r54yeHGbMqiMHTjcoT3CP2CD7VXUn9jytxX4FtFmLhINdF8UwGvLy9urNtzxIeUNLOuwLVhSH6hmbVx3oA8rZIY3WNkMani8g6I1c">Donald Hall Prize for Poetry</a>. His poem collection ‘No Rhododendron’ is being published next year by the University of Pittsburgh Press in the Pitt Poetry Series. His poems have also appeared in top literary journals and publications in the US, such as Best of New Poets, Iowa Review amd Kenyon Review.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241013131056_630058ef31163af4def47cbcc247089ee3df925ff6c1bd2014f1008db515f9c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> <figcaption>Photo: CHANDRA S MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  ‘If poetry is, as has been defined, a species of magic, Samyak Shertok has conjured an elegant and sophisticated collection that is full of hybridity in form and subject…’ writes Donald Hall Prize 2024 jury member Kimiko Hahn, an American poet. ‘We are given a view into the conjuring, his view on how language expresses and depresses, how language as noise can mix into cacophony or clarify home.’ Hahn goes on to add, ‘There is abiding grief and, in that, surviving to tell and retell stories. This debut collection is an absolute marvel.’ Shertok’s poems immerse themselves in the idea of a mother language, of motherhood, home, ongoingness and his relationship with them, leaving behind a part of himself in each poem. His poems have a haunting grief and memories, and leave food for the soul to dwell upon. “Poems are a permanent home that I can always return to,” Shertok told us in a zoom call. He moved to the United States to pursue a psychology major as an undergraduate which he completed in 2011 from Brigham Young University, and has been there since. Samyak was born Shertok Lama, the youngest child in a Tamang family from Yurung village of Sindhupalchok district. He had always thought a poet had to be someone senior with a PhD, or a long white beard like Nepali poet Lekhnath Paudyal or the Bengali Nobel Prize winner Rabindranath Tagore. ‘Samyak’ means the Buddha’s middle way and ‘Shertok’ is the Tamang word for a golden steeple. Nepaliness is a recurring theme in Samyak’s verse, but he has a fraught relationship with his motherland. As someone from an indigenous community, Shertok grew up feeling stereotyped and judged which is why he opted for a surname that would not denote his ethnicity. He was eight when his older brother recited the poem he had written himself while walking to their school, an hour across mountain paths from his home. “The poem my older brother wrote was about love and destiny. I don’t remember the lines now, but the seed was planted sometime there,” Shertok recalls.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241013141012_e562220a7461f09924480bb991319bfc420ba275b672885815382bb526833301" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Samyak Shertok"> </figure>  Shertok has frequent references to his mother who played a part in shaping his career as a poet. He explains: “I believe my Ama is a lived poet. She doesn't know about poets, or how to write poems, but she naturally comes up with her own phrases that are poetic and deeply meaningful.” By Grade 11, Shertok was writing poems mostly in Nepali, but also English. He was prolific, penning short stories, essays, ghazals and managed to impress another <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/writing-about-nepal-from-afar">US-based Nepali writer Samrat Upadhyay</a> and publisher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/a-novelist-talks-to-his-translator">Ajit Baral of Fineprint</a> when he won the Writing Nepal competition organised by Lalit. "Samyak Shertok is a poet of great nuance and emotional depth," says Upadhyay who was the judge of the Lalit contest. "Even then I had been wowed by the poetry in Samyak’s prose, and it’s no wonder he’s emerged as a poet of considerable power now." He adds: "The fact that Samyak’s poetry is speaking to a diverse and international audience is evident in his numerous publications and awards. The Donald Hall Prize is a big deal. It boasts of many illustrious poets as its previous winners, such as Angela Ball and Reginald Shepherd. Samyak’s win is a win for Nepalis all over the world." Shertok struggled to adjust to a new culture and milieu. He did not feel like he belonged, and strived to feel appreciated. He finally had a MFA in poetry, but no job. “Poetry as a career is never fully secure, there is a compulsion to financially depend on something else,” says Shertok who now teaches poetry to students in Hendrix College in Arkansas. While he has been reading and writing poetry for most of his life, writing still does not get any easier for Shertok. “With practice, devotion and dedication, one might get better at techniques but writing a poem means starting from nothing,” adds Shertok, who is now working on his second book collection. “Something more challenging is to not repeat what I’ve already done in my previous poem.” While he still likes to explore different literary forms, poetry provides him ample room to explore life, living and longing. Even Shertok’s spoken words, carried over from the other side of the planet over Zoom is versified: “Each poem is a being. A poem begins with a haunting, and ends when you are able to release the haunt.”&nbsp;

Pinki Sris Rana

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Finding a permanent home in poetry

“I’m standing by the post office. You won’t miss me,” promised Alok Vaid-Menon over the phone. Sure enough, there he was. 
At the Sundance Film Festival in Utah, where temperatures dip so low even the red carpet is sometimes a parade of cosy sweaters, — the US-based gender non-conforming performer was dressed in cold-defying femme fashion. Indigo pumps, a blue-and-yellow frock ending in a cloud-shaped skirt, swirls of the same colours lining the eyes.
“I want to show that it is possible to look good here,” said Alok cheekily. 
Words from one of Alok’s own verses seemed apt for the moment: “They will say that femininity is not powerful, but I have stopped traffic simply by going outside.” 
On the day we met, the 32-year-old stopped traffic for another reason too. They were the face of a short documentary ALOK, directed by Alexandra Hedison and produced by Jodie Foster, which had just premiered at the festival.
For over a decade, Alok has combined art and activism. They tour the world with poems about queer and trans experiences, self-acceptance, and love. 
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/eleganza-extravaganza">Eleganza Extravaganza</a>, Sahina Shrestha
They will be in Kathmandu presenting a blend of poetry and comedy at the Spoken Fest on 16 February. “I haven’t been to Kathmandu since 2017, so shout out to Nepal,” Alok shared, with a beam.
The film ALOK spent two years in the making, after photographer Hedison chanced upon Alok’s work online and asked if she could trail them — as a “professional groupie” or “consensual stalker”.
The deep dive that followed, she said, “didn’t just inspire me intellectually, it moved me emotionally”. The 18-minute film, Hedison’s first, features Alok’s questioning of the gender binary, their imaginative force, and glimpses of their family and friends. 
Quoting Greta Lee, star of the Oscar-nominated Past Lives, Alok said: “For so long I’ve been cast as the best friend but this is my first time as the main character and now I don’t know if I can go back.” 
“The mainstream needs to move beyond token diversity. We deserve to have our stories be centered.”
Alok was born into a family of thinkers and academics, with roots in Kerala, Delhi, Malaysia, and the US. Although the Texas milieu they grew up in was conservative, the film shows their home was conducive to queer expression. 
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/a-mother-celebrates-pride">A mother celebrates Pride</a>, Durga Rana Magar
The poet’s aunt Urvashi Vaid, a noted LGBTQ activist in the US, became their protector: “Because of that I was able to articulate myself and be taken seriously from a very young age.”
Where most media representations of South Asian families tend to be opposed to queer and trans kids, Alok noted their South Asian family grew up and transitioned with them.
Approaches to queer rights on the eastern side of the globe are quite progressive, in the poet’s view. “LGBTQ rights are often framed as just recognition in the US, but in India, for instance, there is actually an acknowledgement that there needs to be reparations, there needs to be economic support.”
What is the creative process like? “Procrastination is my process,” Alok chuckled. “It starts out like I’m writing for the first time every time and that’s so daunting. But if it was easy, it wouldn’t be as rewarding.”
As a performing poet, the writing is woven with sound, considering the music that lives within individual words. “Poetry is a kind of spell-making, you have to think about how to pitch and tune each word.” 
So the poet reads aloud as writing progresses and edits based on the listening experience. Language is constantly evolving, Alok reflected, but people get upset when LGBTQ communities evolve it. 
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/right-to-marry-in-nepal">Right to marry in Nepal</a>, Aastha Dahal
Many object to the use of non-binary pronouns. “It is interesting when people say ‘Oh this stuff is all so new’, then why have you always had slurs for us in your languages? So there’s always been a context with which you acknowledge us, it’s just been pejorative.”
In several US states, disapproval of trans people is at risk of being written into the law. Our conversation took place in Utah where the House recently passed a bill seeking to criminalise trans adults for using bathrooms inconsistent with the sex on their birth certificate. 
“Hopefully it’s not going to pass the Senate and get approved into law but the fact that they’re even indulging it is obscene.”
Through art, Alok would like to loosen the hold people have over gender. “Me and my friends are finding a way of looking at each other as individuals, not as categories. So this is not some idealistic future, it’s something that’s being lived right now.”
Equity will depend on people’s willingness to feel a sense of community with everyone around them. That is why Alok opened the film saying: “The most controversial pronoun I have is ‘we’. It’s not ‘they’, it’s ‘we’.” 
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-is-ahead-of-many-countries-in-lgbtqi-rights"> "Nepal is ahead of many countries in LGBTQI+ rights"</a>, Nepali Times
Alok Vaid-Menon will perform at Park Village Resort on 16 February.

The most controversial pronoun is ‘we’, not ‘they’

On a usual bustling March morning in Karachi, roads choked with traffic and the air thick with trumpeting horns, the clock is ticking for Ramu Kharel’s <a href="https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=529015909314191" target="_blank">morning show appearance</a> on Geo TV. A physician of Nepali origin who teaches <a href="https://vivo.brown.edu/display/rkharel" target="_blank">emergency medicine at Brown University</a> in the United States, Kharel was on his way back from Nepal after training staff in hospitals. Karachi is only two-and-half hours flying time away, but since there are no direct flights from Kathmandu, he had to overfly Pakistan all the way to Dubai and fly back after a long layover. Kharel was in Pakistan for the first time and it was at the invitation of <a href="https://www.aku.edu/mcpk/cete/Pages/directors-message.aspx" target="_blank">Dr Junaid Razzak</a> of <a href="https://plsp.org.pk/Pages/home.aspx" target="_blank">Pakistan Life Savers Programme</a> (PLSP) at Aga Khan University. It aims to educate 10 million lay persons over the next decade on cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) and bleeding control. Cardiac arrests <a href="https://www.dawn.com/news/1649189" target="_blank">claim up to 47 lives per hour</a> in Pakistan. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FbCxUc71CqTo&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> “The possibility of resuscitation increases if a person is trained in CPR and choking prevention,” says Kharel. “It typically takes 45 minutes for an ambulance to arrive, but by then the brain suffers irreversible damage.”&nbsp; Kharel was in Nepal to introduce a similar program, training frontline providers, police officers and bystanders who are often first responders. Kharel was born in Gulmi district, and experienced first hand the devastating consequences of poverty and poor health infrastructure. He lost his mother when he was just eight because she could not be taken to a hospital in time, and this fuelled Kharel’s determination to improve healthcare access to underserved communities. His uncle was a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/my-uncle-died-in-qatar" target="_blank">migrant worker in Qatar who died</a> while making infrastructure for the FIFA World Cup. His employers in Qatar only listed his death as ‘cardiac arrest’ as the cause, since they did not have to pay compensation for&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023061205064_e0ebc99527e1c9e16aacb0e4da2ac6808398634b2179c7c4d294abff0da5b636.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2023061205064_e0ebc99527e1c9e16aacb0e4da2ac6808398634b2179c7c4d294abff0da5b636" data-rendition-name="original" width="1184" height="1493" loading="lazy" alt="Ramu Kharel on screens"> <figcaption>Ramu Kharel on screens at the Geo TV studio as he talks about the Pakistan Life Savers Programme and recites Urdu poetry.</figcaption> </figure>  A member of the <a href="https://southasiapeace.com/category/sapan-news-network/" target="_blank">Southasia Peace Action Network (Sapan)</a> that works for cooperation in the region, Kharel says Nepal can learn a lot from Pakistan’s experience with trauma care. “Our mountains unite us and we even look alike,” he says. “Sadly, it’s the petty egos of those in power that keep us divided.” Highway crashes claim some <a href="https://extranet.who.int/roadsafety/death-on-the-roads/#deaths" target="_blank">half a million lives</a> a year in South Asia, and as a member of <a href="https://youtu.be/bCxUc71CqTo" target="_blank">Sapan’s road-safety</a> group, Kharel has been trying to find region wide solutions.&nbsp; When cataclysmic floods swept one-third of Pakistan last year, the government of <a href="https://reliefweb.int/report/pakistan/press-release-nepals-humanitarian-assistance-pakistan" target="_blank">Nepal promptly donated</a> relief goods, including tons of food, shelter, and medical assistance for the victims.&nbsp; And in 2015, when a deadly <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/bitesize/guides/zgkksrd/revision/5" target="_blank">earthquake</a> killed over 8,500 people in Nepal, <a href="https://www.dawn.com/news/1178334" target="_blank">Pakistan helped</a>, sending four aircrafts with a 30-bed hospital, special search and rescue teams including Army doctors and food items. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FUGLikHax0OQ&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> It was in the aftermath of the Nepal earthquake that Kharel established a health advancement committee in Nepal in collaboration with local communities to provide more decision-making power over their healthcare systems. Working with local governments, he led a program to overhaul local healthcare systems. &nbsp; In coming years, Nepal and Pakistan are likely to face more flood disasters due to accelerating climate change. “Since local communities will be first to react in an emergency, preparing them for disaster response and developing their healthcare systems is crucial,” he says. When he is not working on ways to improve healthcare, Kharel is actively creating content on social media as @namestedoc on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/namastedoc/?hl=en" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@namastedoctor" target="_blank">TikTok</a>. While his target audience is largely Nepali, Kharel has a TikTok following of nearly 100,000 with over 3.8 million likes on his videos. It was during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/a-little-help-goes-a-long-way-in-home-isolation" target="_blank">Covid-19 pandemic</a> in 2020 that he began <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtV5j7DdJT0" target="_blank">using social media </a>to spread health awareness, starting with <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8om7XeM/" target="_blank">a TikTok video</a> from Nepal appealing for vaccines.&nbsp; Kharel also loves basketball and Urdu poetry. Guided by his mentor <a href="https://liberalarts.utexas.edu/mes/faculty/hydersa" target="_blank">Syed Akbar Hyder</a>, an associate professor of Asian Studies and Islamic Studies at the University of Texas at Austin, he is a fluent Urdu speaker.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FvtV5j7DdJT0&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> The Nepali doctor’s love for Urdu poetry started when Hyde shared a couplet by Ghalib at an introductory class. “We spent the entire class discussing one couplet. I was hooked by the ‘ibham’ (ambiguity), the beauty and the depth of the lines, and I knew I had to learn this language,” he recalls. Under UT Austin’s <a href="https://liberalarts.utexas.edu/asianstudies/news/hindi-urdu-flagship-student-wins-two-prestigious-awards" target="_blank">Hindi-Urdu Flagship programme</a>, he along with six other students lived for a year in India in 2009, travelling and immersing themselves in Urdu language and culture. Kharel interned with an organisation in Lucknow working to raise the standard of living and education for Muslim women in India.&nbsp; He believes that poetry has the power to heal and inspire, and often turns to Urdu verses to make sense of life’s mysteries.&nbsp; In the car, he recites lines from Faiz Ahmed Faiz by heart: “Chale chalo ke woh manzil abhi nahi aayi.” (Let’s keep going, we have yet to reach the destination.) Abdullah Zahid is a student of mass communication at the University of Karachi.<a href="https://twitter.com/abdullahhzahid?s=21&amp;t=Yib5Dr6ZPTJCb9WElKcEJQ" target="_blank">@AbdullahZahid</a>. This article was first published in <a href="https://southasiapeace.com/category/sapan-news-network/">Sapan News</a>.

Nepali doctor's love for Urdu poetry

&nbsp;
<div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FVvNCLTlOiCs&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>
 
…To hell with poetry, with memories, &nbsp;
with my mother’s food- maybe not my mother’s biryani-&nbsp;
To hell the memory of turning nineteen&nbsp;
in quarantine. To hell with waiting. To hell
with this poem. To hell with how long.
(<a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-115260978/359-cooking-by-mukahang-limbu">Mukahang Limbu</a>)
Your friend sends you half a poem by <a href="https://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/poets/mukahang-limbu/" target="_blank">Mukahang Limbu</a>, with a note at the bottom: Found this gem online and thought to share with you. You go back and read it a couple more times, the way you do with poetry that reaches into you to touch certain chords and you instantly know you’ve found a place to go to.&nbsp;
But home can also be just a memory and you find out why as you read When I first came from Nepal by Limbu:
Missing the feeling of home&nbsp;
I smell the iron rust
of the Municipal Gardens.
The sour tang of home still sits&nbsp;
on the tip of my tongue&nbsp;
like the zest of sweet citrus fizzing.
There are nights when you turn to poetry for reprieve. The world closes in upon you sometimes and sometimes pushes you away, leaving you on the fringes, staring at the inner circle, where you feel you do not belong.
You discuss the imposter syndrome with your friend. What can one really do to become authentic in a world that constantly tests? Often, there is only so much to do. Perhaps it is to be and to live as you are and bare yourself to the core, even between strangers.
<a href="https://www.voicedairy.com/spoken-word">Deepa Bohora</a> beams at the sight of you, asks you your name and smiles as though you are not a stranger but an old friend. She instantly engages with you in conversation about her childhood, about her struggle with Lupus.
“It is poetry that salvaged me. And Yukta Didi, who showed me that I could also write poetry,” she says of Yukta Bajracharya, poet and writer.
<div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DhM1ds0v9NSg&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>
As you navigate a busy street in Patan together, Bohora tells you about her father’s work in India and about a fan that was her friend when she was a child. And there is that poem she narrates, about this fan. The fan.
The fan is her friend. But in her poem, she becomes a friend to the fan. The fan goes on to tell us the story of the little girl with Lupus, strung in her own metaphor of healing. The device, which has been sitting in her house for years, gathering dust, warped with spider web, becomes a symbol of her own yearning to recover.
When the fan is repaired and once again starts spinning off cool air, Bohora writes a second installment about its restoration. And as the fan rises from its ashes to become a device of use again, what we really see is Bohora’s recovery.&nbsp;
“I write poetry because I like to tell stories. There are so many stories in me and in the people around me. That’s why I write poetry,” says Bohora. But poetry comes to her like a song, like the humming of the fan on a hot summer’s day in Surkhet, so she becomes the little girl again, who runs around her village telling everyone the fan has been fixed.
That healing she finds in poetry is shared experience for many. “They say we are all poets at least once in our lives. And that is when the heart breaks,” says Saras Chari. He says he started writing poetry as a form of expression away from a childhood scarred by bullies.
“First it was that, and then at some point, I realised that I had some talent, but as I grew older, I realised it was my only talent. And so I write to see where I fit in this society and to talk about issues that are misinterpreted,” says Chari.
<div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2FhTYmhSVUWJM&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>
When a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/peaceful-physically-distanced-protests/" target="_blank">series of anti-government protests</a> were staged in Kathmandu in 2020, Chari noticed how at each one of those events, the public was pitted against the government security personnel. “They’re not our foes. They’re one of us. Their families are one of us. But when they’re out there, defending the line, they become the ones who stand against us. And in that, they’re oppressed by the government, while being tasked at oppressing us,” says Chari.
And so his poem, Pyadha, traverses the minds of traffic police, police and soldiers:
Those toes locked inside boots bleed, too,
They get sucked on by leeches and
They yearn for the feel of the grass…
(translated from Pyadha)
&nbsp;“Look at how many ways poetry has been used in history,” Chari says. “Poetry was taught to us by pundits to propagate religions. Poetry was used to teach, but also to control. It has also been the medium for expressing love, just as much as it has been used to stir rebellion. Poetry is powerful,” says Chari.
Anand Vijay Gurung, who sits in the audience as Chari performs his verse on stage says that poetry serves its own purpose. “Or wait, why must it even serve a purpose? That’s a difficult question to answer. If a piece of poetry inspired you to feel more intensely, it has served its purpose,” says Gurung, who likes to think of poetry as a word game. And so in his poem, We Are All Migrants, he writes:
…to navigate their way in a world and find
The elusive perfect nest
etched in their mental maps.
“Poetry is pretty much everyone’s game,” says Chari. Like Deepa Bohora, he too found a community in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Review-from-the-page-to-the-stage,593" target="_blank">the Word Warriors</a>, a spoken word poetry group. And while Gurung calls writing a lonely task, Slam poets like Bohora and Chari have formed their own circles where poets come together to write and perform.
Chari and his friends Prakash Zimba, Rupesh Bhattarai and Shuvangi Khadka perform together under the name, <a href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Finstagram.com%2Fkavindrapur%3Figshid%3D16dc04x37mx12%26fbclid%3DIwAR0ODA8yTZBhHrFb4mDQXWyuTGANf04wl47UtkeeXhUMfXYrbaqfhdMyG2A&amp;h=AT2gylLtbTPg2QgDfSfe3jOP_z3o2IwdJ-yQvnn-hAhN4_ue4tA2asN8zbjw06-pJ9a8kCnD1cSi8qxEOy3QoDxQJJ1s4uPHlW8nn8UO2pq9D-n4CrO61UUIryNapDw0LA1iB8Q0pxA" target="_blank">Kavindrapur</a>, in memory of the &nbsp;forgotten poets that frequented a sattal rest house next to Kastamandap, during the reign of Pratap Malla.
The king was the patron of the poets. And there in a rest house in the heart of old Kathmandu, the streets would reverberate with verses as poets wove a mesh with their words. It is this memory that has been created into a legacy by the young poets, even as they struggle with other challenges of being poet.
“Poet, but paid” is painted in white on the black tee shirt Chari wears. “We get invited to events, often to perform or to judge, but no one cares to pay for our time or expression. Poetry is not respected,” Chari expresses his frustration.
And his sentiment is seconded by Gurung: “Nepali society respects writers and poets but there is no support system to serve that vocation. There is no reward monetarily and often, poets pay for their own books to be published.”
Gurung’s anthology of poetry, Dandelion Snow was published in 2020, and most of the people who bought his books have been friends. Poetry books are published with the expectancy of a prolonged shelf-life, he says.
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And yet that does not deter the courage of Bohora, who hopes someday to pull together a book of her poems. “That’s the dream, I’ve been carrying. Someday, I’d like to do a book of my own,” she says. “My words have done what my father’s sweat hasn’t.”
When the likes of Rupi Kaur and Nayyira Waheed stormed Instagram’s little boxes with their anecdotes, poetry appeared to have found a new platform for revival. While it has also given birth to debates about what really is poetry, then, if it can be dashed off in incomplete sentences and expressions.
“At least it’s helped other poets see, that it is possible to sell,” says Gurung.
In Kathmandu, a surge in performance poetry was seen in the last decade with Word Warriors performing at different events, raising pertinent personal and political questions, while also creating space for young writers to form their own groups.
But poetry has also been used to challenge. In the recent anti-government protests, the crowd cheered as Sapna Sanjeevani recited: Ab hum Sita Nai Banbo, refusing to the submission that Sita had to adhere to. And it is a sentiment that resonates with many women writers of the decade.
My country cries over&nbsp;
burnt flags,
borders,
the birth lore of gods,
not the bodies of desecrated dead girls;
My country says I am a Goddess.&nbsp;
Neha Rayamajhi's a poem published in <a href="https://lalitmag.com/my-country-loves-me/">LaLit magazine</a> is steeped in sadness and anger. There is sarcasm. There is mostly protest in her words:
My country asks me&nbsp;
for my father’s name.
Men who are dead,
or have become ghosts
they own me more than the women who birth me:
My country asks me to love this motherland.
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“Writing poetry is creating something beautiful out of sometimes messy and ugly emotions. It also means clamining and reclaiming power from those experiences,” says Rayamajhi.
Her words are representative of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/everyday-as-if-it-is-womens-day/" target="_blank">new generation of Nepali women</a>, who dare to question traditions passed down to them and laws that threaten to bind them. The refrain carries the irony of the idea of motherland while being force to disrespect mothers, who are allowed to birth children but never allowed to be citizens.
But to not be citizens is not limited to being <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-waits-for-an-unequal-citizenship-law/" target="_blank">unable to pass down your identity to your children</a>. It can sometimes be tangled in memories of who we were and who we have become.
Away in Oxford, Mukahang Limbu’s life unfolds to his audience on his Instagram stories as he cooks meals with fellow students and lives the life that has the semblance of a typical university life. But this award winning poet recreates the idea of home in his posts through foods as much as he does in unfinished, dangling sentences.
Away from home, we often discover ourselves more closely. Home, then becomes an idea. Home can be the taste of a vegan ice-cream made from cashew milk in Manhattan, sometimes. But home can also be fried-rice eaten on repeat when you live far away from home.&nbsp;
Home can also be friends who do not ask you questions, just as home can be a tandoori sandwich eaten during a conversation with strangers you have just begun to trust.
And so these lines by <a href="https://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/poem/when-i-first-came-from-nepal/">Limbu resonate</a> with so many of us:
I know now 
In this place, where I did not know, the things I did not know embrace me in ways 
I didn’t know.

Sahina Shrestha

Pratibha Tuladhar

Young Nepali poets in search of poetic license

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b793c9c7e80680e0646efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5616" height="3744"/><figcaption>Pragati Rai. All Photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>As a child, Pragati Rai was called fattyauri, someone who would not stop talking. “I did not like that when a daughter was born in family, they would say, ‘Oh great, a bottle of whisky is born,’” she says to me when we meet in her home in Thecho. “I knew from very early on that these things didn’t sit right with me, that I had to speak about them somehow.”Born in 1977, Pragati grew up in Khotang along with a younger sister and four brothers. Although she is widely known for her first novel, Lekhak Ki Swasni (The Writer’s Wife, 2014), Pragati burst into the Nepali literary scene with a slim collection of powerful poems called Badi Bigyapti (Baadi Press Release, 2009), written after she had witnessed naked Badi women protest outside Singha Durbar demanding their right to citizenship in 2007. In the titular poem, Pragati writes:My name is nakedMy people are nakedWhere I stand, therethe ground is seen as naked, todayI have been made into a promiscuous woman, sir!I cannot cover my shame withthe sari of democracyPeering into the empty vessel that is your assurance, I cannot wait for the road to freedomListen to the word of someone who has been made naked for generations, or–Listen to the dangerous decision of this disgusting name:If you do not want to make me like you, sirI most certainly will make you like me. https://youtu.be/owxitV1LRp8Last year, she published her second novel, Birseko Mrityu (Forgotten Death, 2019), and Pragati has just completed writing her third novel, Thakra (Stake), which is forthcoming later this year.In this month’s Lightroom Conversation, Pragati and I talk about the process of building a novel, how to tell women’s stories to reluctant audiences, the importance of humour in writing, and why it is necessary for women to write their own stories and be their own writers.Pragati Rai: It’s like making a child swallow medicine. The medicine is bitter, so you will have to put some sugar in it. You have to trick that child into consuming something they never wanted in the first place, but that we all know is very good for them. That is how I wrote Lekhak Ki Swasni. At first, I was writing this novel called Saya, and it was just a long stiff lecture on ‘women’s issues’, and how men and the state ought to behave. I guarantee you that no one wants to read a novel like that, least of all, men.Muna Gurung: So you made it sugary.Yes, with Lekhak Ki Swasni, readers think they are reading a story about a writer and his family drama, but what they do not realise is that they have gone through an entire book and in the process, they have actually read and closely experienced the pain of being the wife of a writer. Lekhak Ki Swasni was actually a short story I wrote while waiting for my husband to come home for dinner. He said he was on his way but hours went by and he never showed up.He is also a writer? Yes, he is an established and award-winning writer. But we live separately now. He is with someone else. People keep thinking that the novel is about our life together but it is not.How did you meet? I was fourteen and my friend took me to his house. His village was just over the hill from mine. He was in ninth grade and deeply heartbroken. The girl he had fallen in love with had just been married off to some lahure. My husband was inconsolable and spiraling into depression. His family thought this was the best time to find him a wife. My friend was his mother’s niece and she had apparently told my mother-in-law about me and how I like to write poems. My mother-in-law explained to me that theirs was a family of writers and if I ever wanted to get into writing, they had all the connections. She also said I could venture into music, education, art… I agreed to marry her son, and  so I stayed put.You stayed there that night and never went back home?Pretty much. I slept in my mother-in-law’s room for a long time and then after a while she sent me to sleep with my husband. He and I barely talked. I was enrolled in 8th grade then and a month into the academic year, I was pregnant, so I stopped going to school. My ama sent for me, but I did not go back home.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b793f9c7e80680e0646f0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5616" height="3744"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Did you know this big step you had just taken?I had absolutely no clue. I just thought that I had secured my future of being a writer, or doing something in this one life I have. But nobody told me about children. Up until I had my first child, I didn’t fully understand what was going on with my body.It must have been terrifying. It is hard to be afraid of what you don’t know. But you know, my aama, I guess was far-sighted. After my second son was born, she told me that a day will come when I will become very unattractive to my husband because he would be much more educated than me, an 8th grade drop-out. She told me to come home right away so that I could go back to school, I was 18 then. I took my sons and went home to my mother. After SLC, I went to Kathmandu where my husband was already beginning to establish himself as a writer.Read also: <a href="http://Nibha Shah: Nepali poetry’s mansara" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nibha Shah: Nepali poetry's mansara</a>, Muna GurungYou said in an interview elsewhere that many people would not know who Pragati Rai is, but that they would know Lekhak Ki Swasni. It is ironic now knowing that your husband also writes.   I was always known as my husband, the writer’s wife. Even when I wrote a good poem, my name hardly came forth. They all thought he wrote my poems for me. Or if I spoke at an event, he would receive a call at home from one of his ‘boys’, who would say to him: Oh,  Pragati spoke well today. You’ve done a good job schooling her. And the worst was this one time when I saw a short review of Badi Bigyapti in a national daily, and I was surprised to see they had quoted me when I did not remember being interviewed. Later, my husband tells me that the newspaper had called and he had spoken to them.That is terrible. I was furious.How else was it like to be one of the two writers in a marriage?Maybe people think that writer couples spend their days writing together in some blissful reverie. None of that is true! (Laughs). If two people in a family are in the same field, there is bound to be some sort of competition, it is only natural. I would share an idea with my husband and find that a part of it has somehow made it into his book, and vice versa. Some days I would want him to listen to my stories, but he would be busy trying to share his with me. Writers are obsessive people. But you know, when you are with a writer, you can say something using minimal words and trust that the other is able to extract, elaborate and expand as needed. Writers are also more open than other kinds of people, I think. When we separated, my husband told me honestly about his lover. Plus, this was not the first time he had strayed in our marriage. I always knew about his affairs because he would tell me, or write about them. Many male readers have also asked me why I did not make the writer husband character in my first novel a politician, or someone with another profession -- but my husband never once questioned that decision. I appreciated his openness.Maybe it is also because you tell the entire story with so much humour. I laughed out loud in so many of the scenes. I think humour can be one of the hardest things to write.My baba was a comedy man. For instance, when we did not listen to our ama, she would scream at us: Must I repeat the same thing to you twelve and twenty-seven times before you begin to listen? And our baba would step in and say, Your poor mother who does not know math is now having to put together twelve and then twenty-seven—that is half of her day gone right there!  We would laugh and then go do whatever she wanted us to do. I realised early on that humour can make difficult situations a little easier. So in making my first novel, I spent a lot of time carefully weighing out the serious scenes against the humourous ones and deciding where and how to place them so that my readers would follow along and do what I want them to do. (Laughs).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79439c7e80680e0646f1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1620" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Who are your readers?I write for our parents’ generation, my generation and those who will come after me. People from my grandparents’ generation, I do not even try. Their  thinking is set in stone. I wrote for women, but I quickly realised that the problem is that not enough women read. So what is the point of writing for women when our audience is clearly male? Women in Nepal have written for decades but the reason we still struggle to be heard and seen is because we are writing for women, which makes it easier for male readers to snooze. If we write for men in the manner that pleases them, then our stories become heavily edited, and ultimately incomplete.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/bimala-tumkhewa-putting-kinema-on-the-map-of-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bimala Tumkhewa: Putting kinema on the map of Nepal</a>, Muna GurungWhat about stories about women that men have written?I feel like exactly how my character Numa feels about the way her husband writes. Numa is not a writer, but she finds that her husband, Sushant’s words lack something. Women must write their own stories, men can try, but it will be incomplete. For instance, I remember reading Abhi Subedi’s powerful article once where he writes about replacing the concept and language of  maiti ghar with that of afno ghar. It is a beautiful idea because why must we call our husband’s home our home, or afno ghar, and the place and family we were born into and grew up in and around our maiti? But what Subedi never brings up in the article is the importance then, on a policy level, for women to be able to claim that space as indeed, afno ghar. Where is it in our law? What kinds of property rights does a daughter have in her father’s home? Changing a word is a good start, but it is not the end of a larger problem.I also found the way you write about Numa’s desire as a sexual being very refreshing. I love that she lifts lines out of her husband’s unpublished book and sends it to Prabhakar in a flirty text. You don’t always beat around the bush with some lofty metaphor, you write clearly and unapologetically. (Smiles). I wanted my readers to know that women, too, have desires. I especially wanted my male readers to know that they are always replaceable in a woman’s life. Many of my male friends who have read the novel do not like the character of Prabhakar. I think they see themselves as the husband character and Prabhakar as Numa’s boyfriend, and therefore a threat. The novel I just finished, Thakra, is actually a sequel to Lekhak Ki Swasni, so we will follow the same characters in a different future. My male readers urged me to get rid of Prabhakar in the third novel. But I assure you, he is going nowhere. In fact, there is a scene where Numa is told by her father-in-law that since she cannot give them a grandson, that it only makes sense for her husband to remarry. Numa is hurt by this and she gets drunk with Prabhakar one evening. Some readers, I know, are not going to like that. (Laughs).<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79469c7e80680e0646f2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5616" height="3744"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>How long did it take for you to write your last novel? Two years–I have not worked for money in those two years. I am deep in debt, so I must begin to work again now that the novel is done. It took me 7-8 years to write Lekhak Ki Swasni because I was working then at a school first as a teacher and then later in the exam department, typing up papers. I had a computer where I worked and I had created a folder for my novel, and I would steal some time everyday to write it. My colleagues soon found out and complained to my boss. He began to bring me large piles of random papers to type, just to keep me busy, I think. Every hour, he would walk in and ask if I was done. In another universe, I would have just put my head down and said, No sir, not yet. But instead, I would snap at him with Do you think I’m a photocopying machine? (Laughs). I was incorrigible. They even made me sign a sheet of paper that said, “I will not write during work again.” But the very next day, I wrote.So you finished your first novel while working there? No–later, someone deleted the folder and I lost everything. I had to write it all over again. We had a computer at home, but there was something electrifying about stealing time to write at work. When I came home, I never wanted to write. (Laughs). Just when the school was about to kick me out, I left for Korea to work with my new novel in a pen drive.When was this?2010. We were struggling financially. I felt like it would be a good idea to go abroad and make quick money. My husband wanted to join me, but his writing career was taking off and I knew that going to Korea would ruin it--all that effort for nothing. So he stayed back with our two sons, who were already in their late teens, early 20s by then. In Korea, I had to do manual labour in the agricultural sector. My roommate was a woman from Myagdi and super strong. She would work all day and be fine at night, whereas I would have all sorts of joint and muscle ache. There was a computer in our room, but she was always using it to chat with her husband. I never got a chance to sit at it. I remember complaining to Sudha Tripathi didi that I was not able to write because I didn’t have a computer. She clicked her tongue and said, Why don’t you just sit on the floor and write on a notebook with your hand? Why do you need a computer to write? I took her advice. Eventually, my employer kicked me out of work because I was spending my nights writing and he would see my light was on all night; and in the afternoon I was unable to work. For three months, I stayed back in Korea, unemployed trying to finish my novel. Everyone was scolding me. When I think about all the things I went through to write this novel…it is a lot.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-literatures-thulnani-toya-gurung/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Toya Gurung: Nepali literature’s Thulnani</a>, Muna Gurung<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b794a9c7e80680e0646f3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5616" height="3744">What happened after you finished writing the book?I experienced the deepest kind of satisfaction–that I had arrived on this earth and left a small signature.A signature, that’s a powerful image. My mind keeps circling back to the naming and how common it is for women to not have proper names. Twice a year, my family sets out a feast for our ancestors, and we invite them to come and eat. My baba has a long list of their names and when he goes down the list, I notice that the men have proper names but their wives are just their names plus a ni. So, Gopal’s wife is Gopalni. How we continue to rob women of so many things, starting with their names. I say it in my poem, Rukh (Tree), how our great-grandmothers gave up their lives in the name of tradition, and when it was time for our mothers, they gave up their names, it was a price they paid to uphold their traditions, any tradition. We keep following in each others’ footsteps, one generation of women after another. We may alter things here and there, but unless we uproot that tradition, nothing will change.Lightroom Conversation is a monthly page in Nepali Times on interesting figures in Nepal’s literary scene. Muna Gurung is a writer, educator and translator based in Kathmandu.  www.munagurung.com<h2>The Basket</h2>Pragati Raitranslated by Muna GurungAfter she gets the basket,the little girl forgets everything elseShe forgets food, forgets her motherAfter she gets the basket,she forgets her mother’s lap–A mother has no right over a daughter who has left her lap.The little girl has a basket to fill,she forgets everything elseWhen she places a flower in the basket,she likes the moon better,When she replaces the flower with the moon,she likes the stars more...And even more than the stars, she begins to likethe wind, water, butterfly, cloud and what else–She has only one basket,but she has so many things to keep in itShe keeps one thing in the basket, takes it out for anotherKeeps, takes, keeps, takes, and suddenlyevening sets inThe little girl begins to cry, the basket is emptySeeing the basket as life,The little girl’s mother begins to cry with herIn the midst of trying to fulfill each desire,life remains empty.And so–In between her sobs,The mother tells the little girl:Fill the basket with one thingthe rest, keep as memories that fill your heart.

Muna Gurung

Pragati Rai: Her Own Writer

Bimala Tumkhewa: Putting kinema on the map of Nepal

Usha Sherchan: Humming a tune of her own

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110815110/636a61599c7e80680e056ecbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1162" height="638"/><figcaption>Laxmi Prasad Devkota’s 110th birth anniversary is being marked on Sunday 27 October. Photo: KAMAL DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Kalidasa’s Sanskrit masterpiece Abhijnanasakuntalam based on the story of Shakuntala in the Mahabharata was written nearly 1,500 years ago. It was first translated into English in 1789 and later into 12 European languages. But among the many translations into South Asian languages, the one that stands out is its adaptation into Nepali by Laxmi Prasad Devkota, whose 110th birth anniversary falls on Sunday, 27 October.Devkota’s Shākuntal Mahākāvya (1945) is the most accurate in retaining the original shrigara ras classical poetic style in Nepali. Experts have said Devkota’s Shākuntal is neither a translation nor an adaptation, but a ‘transcreation’.Devkota’s Shakuntal is one of the three versions he undertook -- a smaller work called Dushyanta Shakuntala Bhet and an English Shakuntala. It is extraordinary that a poet creates three distinct renditions of the same work in two languages. Devkota, who died in 1959, is also the only poet to write an English Shakuntala with a poetic structure and style totally different from Kalidasa’ dramatic form.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17114#.XbUEiOgzY2w" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reaching America</a>, Rabi ThapaThe ancient epic has been translated into Persian, Arabic, classical Tamil, and modern translations in Urdu in both poetry and prose, and other regional Indian languages. In Nepali, there are eight other translations of Abhijnanasakuntalam besides Devkota’s three versions.Reading Devkota’s Shakuntal Mahakavya gives the sense that there is two-way communication going on between two great poets of two distinct, but related cultural and poetic traditions, separated by many centuries.Devkota and Kalidasa engage in a spiritual and poetic dialogue when they bring out the meaning of ‘re-cognition’ (abhijnana) of Shakuntala. The mystical symbolism and poetic rhythms of Kalidasa are perceptible only through suggestion (dhvani) and Devkota’s text captures this subtly but surely.Kalidasa’s epic describes Shakuntala’s birth as the abandoned daughter of the sage Vishwamitra and the celestial singer Menaka. The king of Hastinapur meets her in the forest, and leaves her with his ring to be presented when she comes to his palace. Vishwamitra is made to forget the pregnant Shakuntala, and she loses the ring enroute to the palace.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/written-locally-read-globally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Written locally, read globally,</a> Sewa BhattaraiThe opening lines of Devkota’s Shakuntal take the reader closer to Kalidasa’s Kumarasambhavam where the erotic tension between Shiva and Parvati is the cause of celebration and creation of the world.Kalidasa’s text has multiple symbols of Shaivism which Devkota did not just recreate it Nepali, but also imbued it with the symbolism of the original epic. The closing lines of Devkota’s rendition comes a full circle with the idea of ‘kalyan’ as Shakuntala’s happiness.Even though Devkota does not recreate the dramatic form, he retains the sense and purpose of the original with his invocation to the Shiva/Shakti principle that forms the basis of the cosmos. As in Kalidasa, Devkota’s Shakuntala ceases to be a person or a character but becomes an embodiment of Shakti and her happiness is the fulfillment of the universe.Devkota’s Shakuntal Mahakavya is infused with the power of the shringara style with its various elements coming together in explosions of creativity. The long and elaborate description of the process of Menaka seducing Vishwamitra is poetically stunning in its deployment of the visual and aural sensual imagery.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110815110/636a615c9c7e80680e056eccjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="440" height="662">While in all the other translations of Kalidasa, the episode of the seduction is either obliquely referred to or assumed to be understood, it is only Devkota who focuses on both the poetic and symbolic significance of the scene.The birth of Shakuntala is seen as an extraordinary cosmic event as it is the result of the Vishwamitra’s incomplete tapas. It was Rabindranath Tagore who referred to Shakuntala’s suffering as her own attempt to gain full knowledge of love by continuing her father’s interrupted meditation.From the male to the female tapasvi, the meditation reaches its climax. While Vishwamitra was seduced by not being aware of Indra’s plan, Shakuntala’s suffering is a result of her being in the dark about Durvasa’s visit to the ashram. While Menaka abandons her child and leaves Vishwamaitra, it is Dushyanta who abandons his child (in the womb) and temporarily leaves Shakuntala. It is only in Devkota’s Nepali version that this sense of continuity and poetic symmetry become clear.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4100#.XbUEougzY2w" target="_blank" rel="noopener">We all make each other</a>, Manjushree ThapaDevkota’s genius lies in his careful delineation of different chhanda for each section which actually has more variety and detail than Kalidasa’s original. Devkota declares in the introduction that his intent is to bring Nepali mahakavya to a higher level of excellence, and he succeeds in doing this.Devkota’s English Shakuntala is a long poem in nine cantos with each marked with a theme: from ‘Vishwamitra: the Terror of Heaven’ to ‘Strife and Unity’. In this work, Devkota keeps his focus on Shakuntala in the manner of the Romantic theme of hero and the quest for self.Devkota is a major South Asian poet for many reasons, but it is his version of Shakuntala that testify to his genius. He actually completes Kalidasa’s masterpiece with the use of extensive meters, both classical and folk, the detailed refinement of shringara rasa, spectacular descriptions of events and subtle use of symbolism make Shakuntal Mahakavya a classic in modern times.Namrata Chaturvedi, PhD, teaches English in SRM University in Sikkim, India and is editor of a forthcoming volume of critical essays on Abhijnanasakuntalam.

The genius of Shakuntalā in Nepali

Nibha Shah: Nepali poetry’s mansara

Shanti Chaudhary: Poet-at-large

Nepal’s only international aviation gateway, at Kathmandu airport, will cut night-time operation hours to allow construction of taxiways, and airlines have been told to curtail flights. This is expected to lead to more than normal chaos during the height of peak autumn and spring tourist seasons at an airport that is congested even at the best of times. The airport will close from 10PM to 8AM from 8 November-31 March 2025. The taxiways will now connect to the thresholds at both ends of the runway, making the airport more efficient in handling higher frequencies of landings and takeoffs. The parallel taxiway extension will allow international flights to land every 4 minutes instead of the current every 7 minutes. At present planes have to wait to land until a plane taking off backtracks along the runway.&nbsp; Kathmandu is Nepal’s only airport with international operations, and it has only one runway that is only one way in from the south over the mountains. With the taxiway improvement, the airport will be able to handle 42 aircraft landings and takeoffs per hour — double the current capacity.&nbsp; The Civil Aviation Authority of Nepal (CAAN) has been trying to entice international airlines to also start flying to and from the other two international airports at Pokhara and Bhairawa (Lumbini) by slashing landing and handling charges. But so far only Nepal Airlines operates a weekly flight to Bhairawa from Kuala Lumpur.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241018161016_046569e53d1d66cd445cc66c697c0ef724810aec9f54bdf827481e3cd6b80c32.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241018161016_046569e53d1d66cd445cc66c697c0ef724810aec9f54bdf827481e3cd6b80c32" data-rendition-name="original" width="2356" height="1134" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu airport expansion"> <figcaption>Kathmandu Airport Expansion plan with extension of taxiways to the thresholds of runways 02 and 20 that will limit airport operations from 8 November 2024 - 31 March 2025. Areas in blue are existing structures, including the international terminal which in future will be the domestic airport, and the new international terminal near the north end of the runway,</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241018121028_6e17cc2ee87c1b02d78cb54905825b7aa15299b7a00f5eddb01a59579ab85c1a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241018121028_6e17cc2ee87c1b02d78cb54905825b7aa15299b7a00f5eddb01a59579ab85c1a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1353" height="1328" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu airport NT"> </figure>  CAAN has reportedly told international airlines to cut their flight frequency to Kathmandu citing the shorter operation hours and has told budget airlines to shift some of their flights to Pokhara or Bhairawa, or face cuts. Many airlines currently operate regular flights to and from Kathmandu between 10PM and 8AM: Air Arabia to Sharjah, Fly Dubai to Dubai, Jazeera Airways to Kuwait, Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong, Singapore Airlines, several Nepal Airlines flights, and one of four daily flights by Qatar Airways to Doha. Jazeera Airways, FlyDubai, and Thai AirAsia have applied and got permission from CAAN to begin regular flights to Bhairawa’s Gautam Buddha International Airport. Starting 9 November, FlyDubai will start making a stopover in Bhairawa before flying on to Kathmandu. Immigration, customs and security are all fully functional in Bhairawa. In Kathmandu, the next phase of the airport upgrade includes converting the current international terminal for domestic operations, the construction of a new international terminal where the domestic departure area is now, as well as moving the hangars and the Nepal Army Air Wing to the eastern side of the runway. The apron area will also double its parking space for widebody jets. This is part of a Airport Capacity Enhancement Project that was initially funded through a $80 million loan from the Asian Development Bank (ADB), and the entire masterplan is expected to cost $800 million. This project is the latest upgrade to Nepal’s only international airport since it saw its first flight in 1949. The current international and domestic terminals are too small to handle the current annual traffic volume of 8.5 million passengers a year that is growing at 20% a year.

Kathmandu airport to cut flight hours

Nepal was hermetically sealed for centuries before it finally opened to the outside world only 80 years ago. Prior to that, starting in the 1830s, only a handful of British Residents and a scientists had ever visited the country.&nbsp; Among those select few was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/republic-of-nepal-s-animal-kingdom">J D Hooker</a> who travelled through the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kanchenjunga region</a> in 1849. A century later, Nepal’s doors were finally opened and saw a flood of mountaineers, academics and researchers. Foreign academics, from both the physical and social sciences, were anxious to make their mark in the poorly studied, but unusually rich and diverse, cultural and environmental geographies of Nepal. Many of Nepal’s own early scientists and conservationists in the 1950s began their careers as the young assistants of foreign researchers. Many went on to become internationally noted academics, field practitioners, and heads of government agencies.&nbsp; Sadly, this generation of Nepal’s scholars has now largely passed on, and many of their contributions to scientific research and conservation successes are in danger of being forgotten by present and future generations. Here is a (by no means exhaustive) selection of five pioneer scholars from Nepal who contributed unusually meaningful research some 60 years ago that advanced Nepal’s development. Today there are few scholars, conservationists, government officials, or writers in Nepal who were not influenced one way or the other by these five individuals.&nbsp; Likewise, scores of senior western scholars and practitioners continue to tell stories of their days in the field with Dor Bahadur Bista, Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha, Kazi Nepali, Upendra Man Malla, or Harka Gurung from Mustang, Dolpo, Kanchenjunga, to Chitwan.&nbsp; Their legacies are alive through contributions to Himalayan botany, social science, ornithology, and geography. DOR BAHADUR BISTA (1926-1995)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081012_b039566f893c7ae0c0f58d0c89442c11d568406cc7bd2c0753f8602cd27f13b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241009081012_b039566f893c7ae0c0f58d0c89442c11d568406cc7bd2c0753f8602cd27f13b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="442" height="470" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Dor Bahadur Bista in the 1970s. Photo courtesy: K DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Dor Bahadur Bista was a young headmaster of a girl’s high school when he was recruited in 1955 by the Austrian anthropologist <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-salt-of-the-earth">Christoph von Fürer-Haimendorf</a> to work as a research assistant in Khumbu for his study of the Sherpa people. Fürer-Haimendorf discouraged him from pursuing higher degrees, Bista went on to become one of Nepal’s best-known and influential anthropologists. His book People of Nepal (1967) was the first comprehensive survey of Nepal’s remarkably diverse ethnicities. In 1991, he published the controversial <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11101">Fatalism and Development in Nepal</a> which, in addition to fame, was to also earn him enemies from the Royal Palace to his own family and friends because of its strong criticism of the caste system. Controversy seems to have been in his blood: Bista once told fellow anthropologist James F Fisher that he had written Fatalism to “shake things up”. He served three years as Nepal’s Consul General in Lhasa (1972-1975), was a Fulbright Senior Scholar at Columbia University (1977), Chair of the Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies (CNAS) (1978), and was one of the founders and Chairs of Tribhuvan University’s newly-formed Department of Anthropology (1979).&nbsp; Always one to lead by example, in 1991 he established the Karnali Institute in Jumla with the goal of creating a caste-free, model village. This also led to criticism and even slander from powerful, high caste figures in Karnali. Bista vanished mysteriously in 1995, and his life and disappearance became the subject of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Kesang-Tseten-documentary-on-Dor-Bahadur-Bista,2176">Kesang Tsetsen’s 2015 documentary ‘Castaway Man’.</a> TIRTHA BAHADUR SHRESTHA (1937) During a career spanning more than six decades, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19150">Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha</a> traveled and worked extensively throughout Nepal with noted international botanists such as J D A Stainton (western Nepal, 1965-1966), L H J Williams of the British Museum (Arun and Tamor valleys Nepal,1969), J F Dobremez in Jumla and Saipal (1975), from Langtang to Gauri Shankar with Hirro Kanai, M L Banerjee, and Daniel Nicolson of the Smithsonian Institution (1970s). He also collaborated with The Mountain Institute in what was to become the Makalu-Barun National Park and Buffer Zone in 1992. Shrestha received intensive field-based training in Himalayan botany from the British Museum of Natural History, the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew and Edinburgh, and with some of the best of the world’s botanists.&nbsp; Tirtha B Shrestha received a doctorate in botany from the University of Grenoble, France in 1977. Between 1961 and 1991, he worked for HMG’s Department of Plant Resources, then known as the Department of Medicinal Plants. His collections are now housed in the Kathmandu Herbarium at Godavari, the British Museum of Natural History, the University of Tokyo, University of Grenoble, and the National Herbarium at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081012_28e114def6b2a8c6be50092a2956388c80926c24ca81566d4b9a14603db17aaa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241009081012_28e114def6b2a8c6be50092a2956388c80926c24ca81566d4b9a14603db17aaa" data-rendition-name="original" width="437" height="635" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha in the early 1990s at what was to become the Makalu-Barun National Park. Photo: DAVID IDE</figcaption> </figure>  Among Shrestha’s many notable awards are the National Award on Botany (2011), World Wildlife Fund Nepal Abraham Conservation Award (2005), Balipara Foundation Lifetime Service Award (2016), and Jagadamba Sri Award (2006). In fact, he has received national awards and medals from four different heads of state of Nepal: King Mahendra (1969), King Birendra (1975 and 1986) President Ram Baran Yadav (2012), and President Bidya Devi Bhandari (2020). Since 2000, Shrestha has devoted himself to the advancement of science, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal">biodiversity, and conservation</a> in Nepal through <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4345">frequent publications in magazines and newspapers like this one</a>. He lives in Sanepa with his wife Timila Shrestha, a plant chemist who earned her doctorate from the University of London.&nbsp; HARI SHARAN NEPALI ‘KAZI’ (1934-2021) Perhaps one of the most fondly remembered of Nepali’s early scientists was the self-trained <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remembering-nepal-s-bird-man-kazi-dai">ornithologist ‘Kazi’ Nepali</a>. He spent his early years in the 1940s studying the birds of Shivapuri, Pulchoki, and within Kathmandu when the city still had trees, green space, and fields. He started collecting and preserving bird specimens in 1952, and even organized a small exhibit for King Mahendra’s Coronation in 1955. Although the British resident to Nepal in 1833, Brian Houghton Hodgson, is reported to have collected nearly 10,000 bird specimens representing 672 different bird species during his time in Nepal, these were all sent back to the UK.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/birding-with-jimmy-carter-in-nepal">Kazi had to start from scratch</a>, collecting 750 of Nepal’s 875 bird species that are now housed in the Natural History Museum at Swayambhu. He identified 13 new bird species in Nepal, and helped establish <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration">Bird Conservation Nepal (BCN)</a> and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/protecting-lumbini-s-rare-cranes">Lumbini Crane Center</a>. He worked with world-renowned ornithologists such as Robert Sr and Robert Jr Fleming, authors of Birds of Nepal,1964 to which Kazi made major contributions.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081016_ac87680a59072ae6e5ff991c72afc6ab74f8ddcdc3814dd59f1eda2051638c04.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20241009081016_ac87680a59072ae6e5ff991c72afc6ab74f8ddcdc3814dd59f1eda2051638c04" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="500" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Kazi Nepali in the early 1990s (left), checking a mist net for capturing birds in the Makalu-Barun National Park and Buffer Zone. Photo: DAVID IDE.</figcaption> </figure>  Bob Fleming Jr. remembers that in the early 1970s Kazi was the only other ornithologist that he and his father trusted to lead the annual Christmas bird count in Kathmandu with three groups at different elevations on the Valley rim. A total of 186 different species were counted one year. Kazi was project ornithologist during the planning years of the Makalu-Barun National Park in the 1980s and 1990s, spending weeks collecting and identifying birds in the remote region. Although <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5755">Kazi never received an advanced degree</a>, his awards and extensive publication record on ornithology were impressive. He had an unflagging interest in all things birds, and shared what he knew generously espercially with the younger generation of Nepali birders. It is hard to forget the smile on Kazi’s face early in the morning, as he whispered the name of bird after bird calling from a distance. UPENDRA MAN MALLA (1932-2021)&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081020_b3e05163aedb9971ddc8c166e5ea8851d765aa6ea36e2a3e2884e56d7d02d693.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20241009081020_b3e05163aedb9971ddc8c166e5ea8851d765aa6ea36e2a3e2884e56d7d02d693" data-rendition-name="original" width="883" height="795" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Prof Upendra Malla at work. Photo courtesy: Suresh Man Malla</figcaption> </figure>  One of Nepal’s foremost physical and cultural geographers known for a ‘multi-dimensional personality, Upendra Man Malla was a larger-than-life figure, both in physical appearance as well as in lifetime Having interviewed him in fall of 2019 where he seemed to have known and worked with nearly every notable personality, Nepali and foreign, in the past 70 years.&nbsp; Born in Wotu in Kathmandu in 1932, he received his MA in geography from Patna University in 1953 and was appointment to the early Ministry of Planning and Development in 1954, then to the Ministry of Commerce. He was awarded a British Council scholarship for a B Litt from Oxford University in 1957. On return, he became professor of geography at Trichandra College and Tribhuvan University in 1957. He served in a royal committee that charted the political division of Nepal into 14 administrative zones, and 75 districts, working with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/time-capsule-of-kathmandu">Swiss geologist Toni Hagen</a>. the first time that the country had been mapped and administered in such a way.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081020_2c6ccc887eb5b5e93a79112f1a2b59e2806407ea1027c01622186017197dd470.jpg" data-media-id="editor_18" data-image-id="20241009081020_2c6ccc887eb5b5e93a79112f1a2b59e2806407ea1027c01622186017197dd470" data-rendition-name="original" width="1009" height="549" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Members of the 1961 planning team for the division of Nepal into administrative zones and districts. Upendra Malla seated second from the left with Swiss geologist Toni Hagen (bearded) at centre. </figcaption> </figure>  In 1973 he was appointed the first dean of the Institute of Humanities and Social Sciences at Tribhuvan University. Prof Malla was the founder of the Nepal Geographical Society in 1961, serving as chair for nearly three decades. He was also chair of the UN’s Man and the Biosphere Programme (MAB) in the 1980s and this could have influenced Malla becoming the first in Nepal to advocate the integration of the social and environmental sciences into development planning. From 1979-84 Malla served in the National Planning Commission where he looked after the social sectors. He taught at the Central Department of Geography until retirement in 1995, training a range of young Nepali students who went on to work in the academic, governmental, and non-profit sectors. He heavily influenced the development of geography as an interdisciplinary field of study in Nepal and is fondly remembered for his warmth, personal interest in each of his students, and unparalleled contribution to Nepal’s academic and governmental institutions. HARKA GURUNG (1939-2006)&nbsp; Nepal’s first mountain geographer, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/remembering-harka-gurung">Harka Gurung</a> is remembered as a chronicler of Himalayan peaks as well as of early mountaineering 1949-1960, and as a “genius geographer” by others. He travelled extensively across Nepal in the 1960s and 1970s and wrote Vignettes of Nepal (1980) based on his journey. Among his mentors and associates were the famous British climber and explorer, H W Tilman, Swiss German Gunter Dyhrenfurth, and Austrian mountaineer and cartographer Erwin Schneider. Harka Gurung was born in Lamjung under the shadow of Manaslu (8,163m) and Himalchuli (7,893 m). He did his BS from Patna in 1959, and received a scholarship for postgraduate (1961) and PhD (1965) in geography at the University of Edinburgh. He was the first Nepali to receive a PhD from a European university and lectured widely at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, Department of Geography at Tribhuvan University, and at the Population Institute of the East-West Center in Hawaii.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241009081016_abb43c8e6d84ea16aa27c65b7138f7ac55c28c63413cfae4fba19667d89b211c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20241009081016_abb43c8e6d84ea16aa27c65b7138f7ac55c28c63413cfae4fba19667d89b211c" data-rendition-name="original" width="389" height="634" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds NT"> <figcaption>Harka Gurung in his Kathmandu study. Photo courtesy: SIDDHI MANANDHAR</figcaption> </figure>  He served with distinction in the National Planning Commission (1968-1975), as Minister of State for Tourism, Public Works, and Transport (1977-78), and as Director of the Asia and Pacific Development Centre in Malaysia (1993- 1998).&nbsp; He once said: “The landscape with Himalchuli on the horizon and the Marsyangdi River in the gorge below determined my choice of geography as a profession… and my political beliefs were shaped by the multicultural setting of the village.”&nbsp; Gurung was a prolific writer, publishing 15 books, 7 monographs and 675 articles and reports prior to his untimely death in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepal-s-conservation-heroes">Ghunsa helicopter crash in 2006</a> along with many of Nepal’s most accomplished conservationists, including Chandra Gurung, Mingma Sherpa, Tirtha Man Maskey, and Narayan Poudel. He was a strong advocate of the use of Geographic Information Systems (GIS) for development planning. As an astute politician, he was able to move things through government that would otherwise take months or years to be approved.&nbsp; Alton C Byers, PhD, is Faculty Research Scientist at the Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR) University of Colorado at Boulder in the United States and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">a frequent Nepali Times contributor</a>. A longer version of this article appears in the November 2024 issue of ECS-Nepal.

Remembering Nepal’s 5 best minds

“अलि अलि अमिलो&nbsp; अलि अलि पिरो&nbsp; अलि अलि गुलियो&nbsp; अलि अलि टर्रो&nbsp; अलि अलि तितो&nbsp; तेसैले त दालभात यति मिठो ।”&nbsp; (‘A bit sour, a bit spicy, a bit sweet, a bit astringent, a bit bitter, that is what makes dal bhat so tasty.’ Inscription at the entrance of the Old Nepal Tokyo restaurant.) Right in the heart of Tokyo’s shopping district of Gotokuji is Old Nepal, a world away from Kathmandu. With an unassuming entrance lit with a dim lamp to read the restaurant’s name, one is immediately transported to the dark, narrow cobblestone alleys of Patan or Bhaktapur.&nbsp; Inside, it is pitch dark with no windows, evoking a traditional Nepali eatery during load-shedding. A narrow corridor reminiscent of Kathmandu’s backstreets leads visitors to an intimate but spacious dining room.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_50aa05c951621a704bc2dfadeb7022981782da1539789aae8e7ae8c30581a294.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20241011141040_50aa05c951621a704bc2dfadeb7022981782da1539789aae8e7ae8c30581a294" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Photos: OLD NEPAL TOKYO</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_02afc769a35cf66b7deded49c6698973eada2d52cc7302394d827c30d661756c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20241011141040_02afc769a35cf66b7deded49c6698973eada2d52cc7302394d827c30d661756c" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141040_fa5bcfaeee6c7ad7746605c4625d7de6e4312f9d4a0dc40a602a4d273200317b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241011141040_fa5bcfaeee6c7ad7746605c4625d7de6e4312f9d4a0dc40a602a4d273200317b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>  The design is sparse, with earthy tones and enveloped in the scent of धुप incense. There is a घ्याम्पो clay vessel next to a wall filled with खोपा alcoves, just like in the brick and mud houses of old Nepal. The restaurant is the life's work of Ryo Honda, a chef who specialises in authentic but innovative Nepali cuisine with ingredients that he has explored in Nepal.&nbsp; “Each plate is inspired by Nepal’s diverse culture and landscape, even the colours,” explains the Kobe-native in accented Nepali. Each dish in Honda’s Mustang-themed menu is based on the colours of the rugged landscape of the trans-Himalayan region.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_fb7af4208db9dfc1eda5202c8d1ae01aed59950d4eb5ee70b8c9aa968eb50642.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241011141044_fb7af4208db9dfc1eda5202c8d1ae01aed59950d4eb5ee70b8c9aa968eb50642" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Ryo Honda. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_b354f6d850bf262f42199899c2884f03244e2d40924b205499f66910cb0ce097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241011141044_b354f6d850bf262f42199899c2884f03244e2d40924b205499f66910cb0ce097" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>  The colour-coded dishes include ‘Shyau’ (red, like Mustang’s apples), ‘Alooko Achar’ (grey, like the pebbles on the banks of the Kali Gandaki), sautéed rock trout with green soup called Ghandhau Macha (green), Thukpa (jet black buckwheat noodles, mixed with bamboo charcoal), Bangur Ko Sekuwa (brown, like the rice) and Dal Bhat and Chamalko Kulfi (yellow desert).&nbsp; “I love Nepal because the country does &nbsp;not have only one kind of people and food culture,” explains Honda, 41, during one of his annual visits to Nepal. On this trip, he was exploring Tharu cuisine in Kanchanpur.&nbsp; Honda and his wife Mari also visited Dhankuta, sampling local mushrooms and other ingredients. Old Nepal sources a lot of its ingredients, especially spices like cumin, turmeric, cilantro, jimbu, timur, and pink Tibetan salt direct from Nepal. Some of these items are also sold separately in a spice shop called Sunya one floor above the restaurant.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141036_d61a6d6910c357f91398c48633e28cd6f73e52e3202470209b7feccd36cd10b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241011141036_d61a6d6910c357f91398c48633e28cd6f73e52e3202470209b7feccd36cd10b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Dal Bhat</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_838e083c94b36e8de85ca3532133119d605069d27dddba0a9268202933b27be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241011141044_838e083c94b36e8de85ca3532133119d605069d27dddba0a9268202933b27be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Alooko Achar</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141044_929ded9b7be75beec3295351aaee06d976869d950f70c3166eb93224e9f27c5b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20241011141044_929ded9b7be75beec3295351aaee06d976869d950f70c3166eb93224e9f27c5b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Nepali spices in Old Nepal Tokyo.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali food is what it is because of its distinctive aroma,” says Honda, “and much of this has to do with spices unique to Nepal like jimbu and timur.” Honda’s love affair with Nepal began in Kobe in 2007 when he started working at a Nepali restaurant. He got so passionately involved that he wanted to dive deep into the diverse cuisine of this Himalayan nation that he hadn't even visited yet.&nbsp; “If I were to cook Nepali food better, I decided I had to visit the country,” Honda recalls. “I did, and returned to Kobe with new inspiration.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_b30dcf5c610d1c2cd48a21c30501deb65c3a14fabf6ce7d38f97af5d56baf41b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20241011141048_b30dcf5c610d1c2cd48a21c30501deb65c3a14fabf6ce7d38f97af5d56baf41b" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Thukpa</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_a0a11578723afd63f5e0079f7a8124a4ac5b8edd1333b9ab86b8d466119516bf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20241011141048_a0a11578723afd63f5e0079f7a8124a4ac5b8edd1333b9ab86b8d466119516bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Chamalko Kulfi</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_35daaa8f7cdaa03837f2250b47865ac74aa8c90efc43982b825dc3487a321abc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20241011141048_35daaa8f7cdaa03837f2250b47865ac74aa8c90efc43982b825dc3487a321abc" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Ghandhau Macha</figcaption> </figure>  Fast forward a few years and he found himself in Osaka, working at a friend’s restaurant called Dal Bhat Shokudo, where most customers were Nepali students. Ryo and Mari continued visiting Nepal often, traversing the mountains and plains from Dolpo to Bardia, in search of special local ingredients and cooking methods.&nbsp; The trips also gave them crucial insight into Nepali society, and how cooks, many of them women and children, are looked down upon.&nbsp; That is how the idea of Old Nepal Tokyo developed – treating Nepali cuisine with dignity and respect by building a fine dining experience around it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_89b216a6a67e00ea9ffbe9f9d020637237857afb48548140a2d4a50f3eb100ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20241011141048_89b216a6a67e00ea9ffbe9f9d020637237857afb48548140a2d4a50f3eb100ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Dhok Dhok, Tsampa</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_f69e83781ffbd4f717e54099df18cd453515a942f8d8f6437063c5b93bda3c66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20241011141048_f69e83781ffbd4f717e54099df18cd453515a942f8d8f6437063c5b93bda3c66" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Shyau</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_2ce56f29c8114e57e56ceab115f53ee07c8faea79b27f127445e19d18af52cc7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20241011141048_2ce56f29c8114e57e56ceab115f53ee07c8faea79b27f127445e19d18af52cc7" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Bangur Ko Sekuwa</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;“In many ways, Nepal is my business and I was wondering what I could do to give back to the country that has given me so much,” muses Honda, sitting in the Juneli Chiyabari tea room in Patan.&nbsp; “Nepali cooks are not generally considered skilled, and do not make much money. Nepali high-end dining would change that.”&nbsp; Old Nepal Tokyo is a reservation-only, set-menu restaurant, with each course costing upwards of ¥13,000 ($90), and it is listed in the Michelin Guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141048_71edfab477ff1f5c4ed4878979b6134b6d25674aae0d052d060342583f198560.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20241011141048_71edfab477ff1f5c4ed4878979b6134b6d25674aae0d052d060342583f198560" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241011141052_224a388986379ccc5aac13dabae0f37e67febbf5f4b764cdb1c8c61715a1f084.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20241011141052_224a388986379ccc5aac13dabae0f37e67febbf5f4b764cdb1c8c61715a1f084" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Old Nepal Tokyo NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  “Most customers here do not know much about Nepal and have never been there,” says Honda, “but after eating here, they cannot wait to visit Nepal.”&nbsp; Ryo and Mari eventually want to open a fine-dining Nepali restaurant in Nepal itself. They have published a Nepali recipe book in Japanese. One of the items in it is of a festival-themed dessert, called Tihar, that uses marigold, juju dhau and methi syrup. &nbsp; Honda also experimented with making timur beer, and is now selling it in cans at the restaurant. The reviews are good. Newari cuisine is Honda’s favourite among Nepal's cuisine. “It has similarities to the food from Kobe. We also use a lot of internal organs,” he laughs. &nbsp;

A taste of old Nepal in Tokyo

The Kosi River that flows down from Nepal into India used to be called ‘The Sorrow of Bihar’ because of the floods that historically inundated large parts of the state during the monsoon. Now, it is the Kosi’s tributary Rosi that has become the ‘The Sorrow of Nepal’. But unlike the Kosi, the floods last week on the Rosi had more to do with unregulated quarrying and sand-mining in its catchment and much less with heavy monsoon rains. The Rosi is a small stream at its source below the eastern slope of Pulchoki, which at 2,763m is the highest peak on the rim of Kathmandu Valley. By the time it reaches<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/ancient-panauti-s-french-connection" target="_blank"> Panauti</a>, the mountains flanking the river are mutilated by numerous quarries that crush stones to feed the capital’s construction boom. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Vacuum-in-the-villages,1296?fbclid=IwY2xjawFw0mNleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHVa26RvHf8pdcLQPxzP1wBs2aANS78zzDo7dSTleUTNxrxXIq8io6-ujPw_aem_DwMs9OcYoGReKiWJLVYjlg">Vacuum in the villages</a>, Kunda Dixit in Kavre On the other side of Pulchoki on the west is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3743" target="_blank">Lele, quarries</a> have also scarred the mountains in the catchment of the Nakkhu Khola that flows into Lalitpur and joins the Bagmati River near Chobhar (see map).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007151040_a99993c5825e7faa8d0648832620d379500b4389987ccc590acce290c4d3784e.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241007151040_a99993c5825e7faa8d0648832620d379500b4389987ccc590acce290c4d3784e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1114" height="755" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi Khola flood"> <figcaption>NASA satellite image on 29 September showing new snow and swollen rivers.</figcaption> </figure>  The Pulchoki catchment received more than 800mm of rain on 27-28 September – half the annual average for Kathmandu Valley. There was no way the Rosi and the Nakkhu Rivers could handle such record-breaking rain. But whereas after previous heavy monsoons, the water just spread into the floodplain, both the rivers are now constricted into narrow channels with new settlements, warehouses, poultry farms and garages along the banks. Added to this, the quarries, sand and boulder mining in the upstream watershed have increased the velocity of the water, and added a heavy sediment load into the flood waters.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241007111016_09c6e62f9bb53ac993b0216646b0c2bc09f64c8b53420fe3d86a0bf81d58731c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241007111016_09c6e62f9bb53ac993b0216646b0c2bc09f64c8b53420fe3d86a0bf81d58731c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1334" loading="lazy" alt="Kosi Khola flood"> <figcaption>There are 22 crusher companies and stone mining operations along the Rosi Khola Valley (top). Panauti and quarries in the Rosi watershed in this Google Map image taken in May 2024 (below). </figcaption> </figure>  The main cause of the massive death and destruction in both the Nakkhu and Rosi valleys last week was because the rivers were forced to flow through narrow channels, and the debris-filled waters swept into the populated floodplains. “After two days of heavy rain, the slopes with the open stone mining were saturated and they just melted,” recalls Purshottam Adhikari, chair of Ward 2 of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/electing-better-future,3714" target="_blank">Panauti Municipality</a> where 23 people were killed. Panauti is a 13th century Newar town situated in the fertile Rosi Valley, situated 40km east of Kathmandu. The Shiva temple at the tri-junction of the Rosi with Punyamati and the mythical Lilamati is where the Makar Mela is held in January every 12 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024100711108_9569f6828fabd2361b12a54c16e4fbcfe10b45e7c7575de7dce85c9df68bd454.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024100711108_9569f6828fabd2361b12a54c16e4fbcfe10b45e7c7575de7dce85c9df68bd454" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="999" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi Khola NT"> <figcaption>Panauti with the Rosi in happier times. Photo: PRASHANT SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  It appears as if the holy rivers took revenge for the desecration of the natural environment. By Saturday morning 28 September, the turbid brown Rosi had ravaged the town, taking away an entire hospital, many homes, schools, temples, bridges, and crops. “We had never such destruction before, we have not even been able to assess all the destruction,” says Dinesh Lama, chair of Panauti Municpality. Shocked residents <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">surveying the damage</a> murmur that the gods must have been angered. They say the river has transformed their town’s topography. Said one: “This destruction is much worse than the 2015 earthquake.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024100711108_7f8c74ba6e7dd56c29daa57082058646f7822d2dcf2f16f61aa67c308e9c269f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024100711108_7f8c74ba6e7dd56c29daa57082058646f7822d2dcf2f16f61aa67c308e9c269f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Rosi Khola NT"> <figcaption>Tipper trucks owned by crusher companies were swept away along with homes, roads and bridges along the Rosi. Photo: ARCHANA DARJI</figcaption> </figure>  Adapted from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/143083">Nepali original</a> published on <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/">himalkhabar.com</a>.

poetry