<figure><img width="603" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c3e9c7e80680e0b785bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: PARVATHI BINDU BENU/TWITTER</figcaption></figure>When Govinda finished his shift in a courier company and returned to his room in Kyiv on 24 February, he found many missed calls on his phone from family in Nepal.Russia had occupied parts of Ukraine, but he was too busy to notice that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/ukraines-lessons-for-sandwiched-nations-like-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a full-scale war had broken out</a>  “My family back home knew what was going on in Ukraine even before I had,” Govinda said.Initially, like many of the 4,000 Nepalis in Ukraine, Govinda and his friends decided to wait it out. But as the air raid sirens started going off near their hostel close to Kyiv’s Sikorsky airport, they knew it was time to get out.“We heard the borders were open, so we ran for our lives,” Govinda recalls, but little did they know what awaited them there.They left Kyiv in a crowded train at 7PM, got to Lviv, took a bus and then a taxi that dropped them 25km from the border because of a traffic jam. They trekked for seven hours in the freezing cold, abandoned their heavy bags, and reached the border only at 6PM.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqXpp-AStOwIn an ordeal repeated many thousands of times in this crisis, Govinda and other Nepalis had to wait another 24 hours in the unbearable cold for their turn to cross the border. Women, children and elderly were processed first. Then it was the turn of EU and other foreigners, and only then African and Asian students and workers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/finnish-paper-expose-on-nepali-restaurants/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Finnish paper expose on Nepali restaurants</a>, Namrata Sharmahttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2Lt4e7QXoc“We experienced quite a lot of racism,” Govinda says. “Everyone was tired, hungry and irritable, desperate to get out. But we were relatively lucky, it has been much worse for others.”The Polish border checkpoint of Przemyśl on the other side at first did not allow people without visas, but they started letting them through with a 1-month entry stamp. <figure><img width="1500" height="900" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720c409c7e80680e0b785cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Videos: ISHWOR DEVKOTA</figcaption></figure>At the time Govinda and other Nepalis were stuck at the border, Ishwor Devkota of the Non-Resident Nepali Association (NRNA) got a call from stranded Nepalis and drove seven hours to the border. It was utter chaos, and all attempts to convince the Polish guards to allow the Nepalis through were in vain.“There was nothing we could do at that time, so we drove back empty handed,” says Devkota, who runs a restaurant in Wrocław.In the week since the invasion began, more than 200 Nepalis have arrived in Warsaw where the NRNA is looking after them. There are another 100 who have crossed into Slovakia, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Romania</a> and Hungary. In Bratislava, Jaya Prasad Siwakoti of the Europe-wide NRNA Rescue Committee, closed his restaurant to feed and house Nepalis who fled Ukraine.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpFM30n6yyc“We rented a hostel, and used donations to take care of our people, but this war could drag on and we need a longer term strategy,” Devkota said, urging the government in Kathmandu to step in. Nepal’s ambassador at the Berlin embassy Ram Kaji Khadka is said to be on his way to the Ukraine’s border with Poland to use his diplomatic status to get out Nepalis stuck at the checkpoint.Responding to criticism in social media about mistreatment of Africans and Asians trying to flee his country, Ukraine’s Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba posted a video on Twitter assuring all foreigners quick processing at the western border on a ‘first come first serve’ basis. He urged all stranded foreigners to call the +380934185684 hotline.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLb4ywcrNYAOn Thursday, Nepal requested India to include Nepali students in its safe passage deal with Russia for students stranded in Kharkiv and other battle-torn cities. Nepal was among 141 countries that supported a United Nations General Assembly resolution condemning the Russian invasion. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bhutan</a> and the Maldives also voted for, while other SAARC members abstained.Within Ukraine itself, remaining Nepalis speak of the fear of a full-scale Russian assault on the cities. One Nepali posted in social media saying he was joining the Ukrainian resistance to the Russian invasion.“I managed to get out to safety, but the future is very uncertain for me,” Govinda told Nepali Times over the phone from Warsaw on Wednesday. “I don’t see returning to Nepal as an immediate option. Besides, the embassy said we had to buy our own tickets back. We will see if we can work while we wait it out here.” Govinda paid Rs800,000 to an agent to get him to Europe, but found himself in Ukraine. “I had never heard of Ukraine before, and it did not look too bad when I googled it. Europe was Europe and that is what mattered to me,” he recalls.He entered Ukraine on a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/migration-certificate/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">student visa</a> for language classes, but that was just an excuse to get into the country. He quit school, and started working at a shawarma restaurant, later switching to a courier company that paid him $500 a month. Prakash also made it out to Warsaw, and says that for the moment he is just happy to have escaped the war zone. “Right now we are just taking it one day at a time, and trying to gauge the situation, and work if they allow us,” he said.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdJ_dk5Kd6ohttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_noakUAC4YPrakash paid Rs1.4 million to a recruiter to get him to Europe, thinking he was going to Portugal. In Ukraine he was earning $800 a month, and still paying back his loans.He adds, “Now, even if I go back to Nepal, I will need to migrate again to earn money to pay back.”Names have been changed.

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Nepalis flee Ukraine as Russians advance

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be27f9c7e80680e083eafjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="595" height="501"/><figcaption>Illustration: SAMBHRANT BISTA</figcaption></figure>Nepali emigration conjures up images of migrant workers at construction sites in the Gulf or security guards in Malaysia. Falling between the cracks are the increasing numbers of Nepalis now in Europe.The volume of Nepalis going to Europe pales in comparison to migrant workers headed to West Asia or Malaysia annually, but their presence has been highlighted during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-diaspora-hit-by-covid-surge/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-diaspora-hit-by-covid-surge/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG_IuXzwm4IQtnSt0ZZ_O7yzT4E-w">Covid-19 pandemic when many Nepalis fell sick.</a>Romania, for instance, issued 29,800 work permits to foreign workers in 2019, of these <a href="http://igi.mai.gov.ro/ro/comunicat/evaluarea-activit%C4%83%C8%9Bii-poli%C8%9Bi%C8%99tilor-inspectoratului-general-pentru-imigr%C4%83ri-%C3%AEn-anul-2019" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://igi.mai.gov.ro/ro/comunicat/evaluarea-activit%25C4%2583%25C8%259Bii-poli%25C8%259Bi%25C8%2599tilor-inspectoratului-general-pentru-imigr%25C4%2583ri-%25C3%25AEn-anul-2019&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHo3EEdFx0D72F_IUyvC6hhsutQ-Q">4,324 were to Nepali workers</a> -- the second highest nationality after Vietnam.Similarly, <a href="https://wbj.pl/more-asian-workers-in-poland/post/126282" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://wbj.pl/more-asian-workers-in-poland/post/126282&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH90CN2BaZ6jXnfdV3MmvpL9h9EAQ">in Poland</a>, of the 69,000 work permits issued to Asian workers, 9,200 were granted to Nepalis who now make up the highest nationality. In 2019, the 2,273 Nepalis officially residing in Malta made them the fourth largest non-EU nationality on the Mediterranean island.The Honorary Consul General of Nepal in Romania, Nawa Raj Pokharel, is one of the 500 plus Nepalis who has tested positive after the onset of the pandemic. He spoke to Nepali Times from his hospital bed on Tuesday.“Workers in restaurants have been vulnerable to the economic fallout, but those working in warehousing, agriculture and construction have continued their work,” he said. “I have helped place workers who lost their jobs because of business shut-down or wanted to change employment with new employers. Unless workers are undocumented, they are eligible for unemployment benefits.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2819c7e80680e083eb0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1375"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2839c7e80680e083eb1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1375">A Nepali migrant worker in a park in Romania this summer, and a Nepali worker in a subway in Bucharest. In 2019, Romania issued 4,324 work permits to Nepalis, many of whom are now sick because of Covid-19.A Nepali who spent two years in Qatar paid a recruiter Rs550,000 for a construction job in Romania. Although he was promised a monthly salary of up to Rs150,000, he barely makes Rs60,000 as a steel fixer at a construction site in Bucharest. Recently, he tested positive for Covid-19, and his medical expenses are being borne by his employer.“At first, I thought it was just regular flu as my job requires me to work outside in the cold,” he told us on the phone. “Manpower companies in Nepal exaggerate earnings and made us falsely believe that access to other Western European countries will be easy once we are here.”Another Nepali worker paid Rs450,000 for a job placement in Romania, and says he could not afford the recruitment cost for other Schengen countries which was up to four times higher. Although he is getting unemployment benefits, he is worried he cannot pay back the loan he took to pay recruitment cost.He says: “My eventual dream is to make it to a Schengen country.”Consul general Pokharel, however, says he advises Nepalis here not to try to cross over into Schengen area no matter how much agents try to lure them. “About a dozen Nepalis have been deported after they attempted to cross over on their way to Portugal, three of them recently,” he says. “They will be banned from entering any European country for the next five years. It is not worth it.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2869c7e80680e083eb2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1175" height="601">In Poland, Rita works at a call centre servicing customers in the UK and US and is lucky to be able to work from home through the pandemic.“I make less than what I made while working at a restaurant,” she says. “But I am significantly happier because the 12-14 hour shifts were physically taxing. Now, I feel more relaxed and am excited about my work.”Ramesh works in a meatpacking company in Poland which closed down for three months this year during the pandemic. Luckily, he was provided 2,080 złoty ($555) a month to pay for rent and food. He says: “That is when I saw the merit in paying regular taxes and the benefits of having strong social protection.”Most European countries are going through a second wave this winter, and cases have exceeded 16 million with 371,419 deaths. So far, Poland has seen 876,333 cases, Romania  422,852 cases, Malta 9,137, and Portugal 264,802 cases.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2889c7e80680e083eb3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1022" height="722">Unlike Romania, Poland is a transit country for many Nepalis who are headed into western Europe – most of them to Portugal given foreign workers can get residence and citizenship after five years. In fact, all roads in Europe seem to lead to Portugal, where there are now 16,849 Nepalis residing legally.Twenty-year-old Hari is one of them, and he also spent nine months working as a mason in Poland first before moving on. His roommate, Manab, 23 year old Nepali paid Rs1.5 million to a recruiter to get him to the Czech Republic, spend a day there and headed out to Portugal where he believes there is a clear path to citizenship and a better future.Officials records show that last year alone, 1,287 Nepalis acquired Portuguese citizenship – making them the <a href="https://sefstat.sef.pt/Docs/Rifa2019.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://sefstat.sef.pt/Docs/Rifa2019.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH-PFtiSt_DjKf5MBr5tMgZMfo8SQ">ninth biggest nationality in the country</a>.The dream of a EU ‘red passport’ however comes with a price, many Nepalis have it difficult adjusting to the language, culture, and grueling hard work in a farm. The recruiter usually takes a cut, but there is not much they can do about it. Most Nepalis soon move on to Lisbon and other cities to work in restaurants and cafes. Because they are eligible for unemployment benefits, many have got 70% of their salaries for five months of the Covid-19 lockdown.In March, Portugal decided to temporarily give migrants the facilities of full citizenship so they could access health and public service, a step which has received accolades globally. The country also <a href="https://www.theportugalnews.com/news/2020-11-05/provisional-legalisation-of-246000-migrants/56546" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theportugalnews.com/news/2020-11-05/provisional-legalisation-of-246000-migrants/56546&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHp4gTbHiGQ8B7l8TflNKdwILbDkA">temporarily regularised the status of 246,000 migrants</a> till March 2021, among them some Nepalis.With its mild climate and opportunities in the service sector, Malta is another destination for Nepali workers who want to use it as a stopover to western Europe. However, it is not as easy to obtain citizenship in Malta compared to Portugal.Nepalis like Ram, who worked in a store in Valetta have received unemployment benefits during the pandemic. Nepalis working less than 100 hours a month are eligible to get €600 from the Maltese government.“I am here just to earn and return home,” Ram told us over the phone. “My residence card allows me to visit other Schengen countries which is a bonus, but there many other Nepalis who are just waiting to secure a future in Europe for themselves and their families, and for them ease of obtaining citizenship plays a role in country selection.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be28a9c7e80680e083eb4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="683" height="910"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ironically, Nepali workers in Romania, Portugal and Poland are filling in for nationals of those countries who have themselves migrated out. The Poland-Germany, Romania-Italy and Romania-Spain corridors are in the ten largest migration corridors globally, leading to significant worker shortages in these countries.During the pandemic <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/15/romanian-fruit-pickers-flown-uk-crisis-farming-sector-coronavirus" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/15/romanian-fruit-pickers-flown-uk-crisis-farming-sector-coronavirus&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHxZtaOX3Itj_NlB_vvHtGAirzPtw">Romanians moved westward</a> to fill worker shortages including via special agriculture worker chartered flights to the UK and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/18/world/europe/coronavirus-german-farms-migrant-workers-airlift.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/18/world/europe/coronavirus-german-farms-migrant-workers-airlift.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEKLJdVi2grvYIc1QSEDB40ulb1mg">Germany</a> to pick fruits and vegetables. The worker shortage they leave behind is being filled by migrants from countries like Nepal who pay big recruitment costs for job placements, and whose ultimate dream destination also happens to be the same western European countries.Nepalis took labour approvals to migrate to 127 countries in 2019/20, of which 94% was to the Gulf and Malaysia – most of these were intermediated by private recruiters. While 747 recruiters mobilised workers to Qatar and 497 to the UAE, the number of recruiters that placed Nepali workers to Poland, Portugal, Romania and Malta were only 66, 9, 14, and 9 respectively. (See chart)<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be28d9c7e80680e083eb5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="874" height="635"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Compared to our traditional destination markets, the recruitment process for Europe is cumbersome and lengthy, while chances of visa rejection are also high for Schengen countries,” says Sujit Shrestha, General Secretary of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA). “This has deterred recruiters. Workers have to travel to India for their visas, which further complicates the process and makes it costly.”Non-Schengen visas for countries like Romania and Cyprus are almost guaranteed once the documentation is complete, but it takes months. The absence of Nepali missions in these destinations deters some employers as recruiting Nepalis requires mandatory demand verification from concerned missions.Shrestha is coordinating with the Foreign Ministry and the Labour Ministry to diversify recruitment to higher earning countries with strong labour protection as a priority.He says: “There is a good case to be made to simplify the process. There are significant employment opportunities in European countries that we can benefit from, but the procedural hurdles are too many.”

Upasana Khadka

Europe now favoured destination for Nepalis

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

A new normal

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&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> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

In a democracy, governments come and go. But Nepal had become so entangled in the triangular affair between Sher Bahadur Deuba, K P Oli and Pushpa Kamal Dahal that it was becoming impossible to tell who was canoodling with whom.&nbsp;
All three had long since abandoned their party ideologies. Staying in power was all that mattered as they turned Nepal’s democracy into a kleptocracy.&nbsp;
For the past at least 20 years, we have warned them to mend their ways. Democracy had to be rescued from the hands of such kakistocrats. Waiting to pounce were monarchists and anarchists of every ilk, outcast Maoists, and supporters of a leader jailed for fraud. Tycoon Durga Prasai said his rally in March was to restore a Hindu monarchy, but he was just a temporary royalist whom even the ex-king spurned.&nbsp;
All this converged into a perfect storm on 8 September. Commandos shot and killed 19 innocent young people outside Parliament, the anger boiled over into targetted arson and vandalism the next day. The government fell, and Sushila Karki was elected interim prime minister through Discord.&nbsp;
With not just their monopoly on power but also their very lives in danger, the triumvirate was at first in total shock. Then came conspiracy theories and an inability to gauge the rage from decades of misrule.
Nepalis had assumed that after September the old parties would see their folly, and step down to hand over the leadership to a new generation. But 10 weeks later, there is no sign of any act of contrition.
In the NC, Sher Bahadur Deuba has sidelined the caretaker he himself appointed, Purna Bahadur Khadka, and is active again as the party prepares for a showdown in its Convention next month. The UML is proceeding with its own General Convention, where Oli is fully assured of a third term as party boss. Dahal sees no alternative to himself in his newly-forged Nepali Communist Party and is eagerly eyeing becoming prime minister for the fourth time.&nbsp;
The three leaders who everyone had hoped would finally retire have reincarnated. It is obscene for obsolete politicians to still hanker for power after all that has happened.&nbsp;
SHOCK AND AWE
The three leaders who have been prime minister a dozen times between themselves want to cling on, but this is not abnormal if we apply <a href="https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/w3cszmjz" target="_blank">Elisabeth Kübler-Ross</a>’ theory of the five stages of grief. The author of <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/On_Death_and_Dying/GlSq0AEACAAJ?hl=en" target="_blank">On Death and Dying</a> was analysing how people with terminal illness deal with their situation, but her 5-stage theory may be applicable to the way heads of the NC, UML and NCP are reacting to the shock of being overthrown — first with denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.&nbsp;
On 9 September, distressed by what had befallen them, the three were in total denial. Then began the stage of anger. Oli ranted in public about a conspiracy to install an ‘unconstitutional’ interim government, blaming the Nepal Army, and vowing not to take part in election even while preparing for it.
The NC has decided to participate in elections, although it has to first sort out its internal power struggle. The NCP and the RSP have united with smaller parties and are actively preparing to campaign. GenZ groups are speaking in different voices, with Sudan Gurung and Miraj Dhungana openly trying to unseat an interim government they themselves installed.&nbsp;
The parties are now in the third stage: bargaining. Instead of asking himself in hindsight what he should have done, Oli wants Parliament restored but has also registered his party for elections. The UML won't allow elections unless the government lifts restrictions on Oli’s movement.
Likewise, GenZ groups are putting up conditions for supporting polls: arrest Oli and others. Karki is single-mindedly focussed on elections, even if it has to be put off by two months. The Army would also like polls on time because it does not want a repeat of September when it had to intervene to form the interim government.
If Karki’s 6-month mandate ends without elections, and if by then the GenZ’s trust in the interim government collapses, then UML and NC could plan to press for an all-party election government, restoration of Parliament which would then dissolve itself to appoint a new prime minister that Karki would also be agreeable to.
The current state of affairs makes it difficult to imagine elections being held on 5 March — mainly because polls would be incomplete without the three main parties taking part, and it is unlikely they would participate in polls that they are certain to lose since they have not reformed themselves. Amidst these ifs and buts, the role of the Army will be critical.&nbsp;
The fourth stage of grief is depression, and that is what will happen to the parties when the reality of their unpopularity finally hits them. Only then will they finally accept their fate, realise that it was all their own doing, and perhaps reinvent themselves.
Kübler-Ross said the five stages did not necessarily have to be in that order, or that sometimes there may only be three phases, which may be applicable to the parties. What is for sure is that the three leaders are in no mood to atone for their sins.
Rabin Giri is an editor with <a href="http://nepalnews.com/" target="_blank">nepalnews.com</a>.&nbsp;

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