Nepal’s cybersphere is rumbling with posts by politicians vying to go viral by being ultra-nationalist. &nbsp;
Thrust to electoral victory last year riding Facebook booster rockets, Kathmandu Mayor Balendra ‘Balen’ Shah is leading the charge. First, he posted a photo of his office with a pre-1816 map of Nepal to counter the Akhanda Bharat mural unveiled in India’s new Parliament building.
Then, he went ballistic on rumours (later proven to be untrue) that the Indian movie Adipurush claimed Sita was “a daughter of India”. He retaliated with an indefinite ban on all Bollywood movies in Kathmandu cinemas until the non-existent dialogue was removed not just in Nepal but by Indian censors as well. Sound familiar? The Maoist 40-point demand in 1996 also included a ban on Bollywood films. &nbsp;
When the Patan High Court issued an immediate interim order rescinding the movie ban, Balen fired off another salvo from his social media account saying no way was he going to follow the court’s order or, for that matter, the Constitution. Safeguarding the national interest and preserving Nepal’s sovereignty and culture was far more important, he said.&nbsp;
And he used a similar argument about hanging the Greater Nepal map in his office, despite constitutional experts calling the tit-for-tat anti-Constitutional, irresponsible and over-stepping his jurisdiction as mayor.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/rot-at-the-top">Rot at the top</a>, Shristi Karki
Ultra-nationalism in Nepal is not new, it is usually retaliatory India-bashing over some perceived affront. Madhuri Dixit once said that she found Nepal “just like India” and we got worked up about that. But it can also turn deadly, as shown by riots in 2000 over Bollywood actor Hritik Roshan purportedly slandering Nepal in an Indian tv interview.&nbsp;
Nepali politicians through the ages have resorted to nationalism to hide under-performance, to distract public attention from more pressing issues, or for electoral gain. All it does is expose insecurity, and only becomes serious when the flames are stoked by politicians.
To be sure, the Indians add fuel to the fire by taunting Nepalis, knowing fully well how sensitive historical memory here about past wrongs can be, and anything said or done in New Delhi tends to be magnified in Nepal – as with their claim to Kalapani-Lipu Lek. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Nationalism is the last resort of scoundrels, as someone said. Italian media tycoon and 3-time prime minister Silvio Berlusconi, who died last week, perfected the art of populist politics even before the age of the internet. Donald Trump copied the formula ditto by weaponising social media. Narendra Modi in India has demonstrated how to pulverise pluralism with populism.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/red-to-saffron">RED to SAFFRON</a>, Shristi Karki
The temptation to appeal to raw instinct, intolerance and hidden bigotry is so strong that even politicians who have fought long and hard for democracy succumb to it. After Balen Shah’s map went viral, the NC’s Gagan Thapa couldn’t resist putting in his own two cents.
Former BBC journalist Rabindra Mishra, who practiced objectivity for decades, has also gone off on a tangent. Rabi Lamichhane of the RSP is only held back by saner voices in his party.
Every politician is entitled to their personal conviction, ideology, and faith. It is when their exercise of freedom impinges on someone else’s right to choice that it becomes dangerous. In countries with entrenched discrimination, inequity and social injustice, populism can be turned into a political warhead. &nbsp;&nbsp;
Balen Shah promised a lot during his election campaign, and some cosmetic changes have been made to the streets. To be fair, it would be too much to expect one mayor in one term to solve Kathmandu’s multi-faceted crises decades in the making. Still, hanging maps on the wall and banning Bollywood films serve to distract public attention from failures.&nbsp;
Even the mayor’s proactive campaigns have been unjust and excessive: bulldozing squatter settlements without first offering alternatives and his Metropolitan Police upturning fruit and panipuri carts of street vendors. The poor and neediest became collateral damage.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/political-environment">Political environment</a>, Editorial
Any critics of these actions are mercilessly trolled by Balen’s supporters who are internet avatars of his street gendarmes – as we probably will be for posting this Editorial online.
The challenge for democracy worldwide now is to protect open societies from populist politics. In Nepal, the royal right is crafting a narrative of nostalgia about the glory days of monarchy. But it is not so simple. &nbsp;
Political changes in Nepal in 1950, 1990, and 2006 have all come about because of outrage over an existing system. But outrage alone does not guarantee a change in the character of the state.&nbsp;
Populists feed on this rage against the status quo, but they offer no solutions except hyper-nationalism. The silver lining is that Nepalis also rejected many serial politicians, and elected some capable technocrats who are now raising hell in Parliament.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/whose-country-is-it-anyway">Whose country is it anyway?</a>, Editorial

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Nepal Populist Party (Balenist)

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdbe9c7e80680e0a0c00jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>It doesn’t look like anyone is about to give Prime Minister Brave Lion a honeymoon period. The same folks who were baying for Oli’s blood are now sinking their fangs into the lion’s jugular. And it’s not even 100 days yet.That is very unfair, give the man some time. He has been a prime monster five times before. He knows what he’s doing. He is in no hurry to expand the cabinet because the country seems to run just fine with only four ministers. The longer he can delay adding ministers, the less headaches he has, and the more money the country saves.The Ass just did some back of the envelope calculations, and it seems Nepal’s exchequer has saved 1 Kharab 5 Arabs 31 Corrodes and 47.5 Lacks just in the past 6 weeks by not having to pay for a jumbo prawn size cabinet. We have salvaged on honorariums for all those new honorary ministers, salaries for their brothers-in-law to serve as PAs, on allowances for a Armed Police Farce platoon for every minister, SUVs, smartphones, Dasain bonuses.These savings will add up to so much that they will wipe out Nepal’s burgeoning budget deficit. This is Prime Minister Dubya’s masterstroke to save the economy from collapse. It looks like we do not really need a budget debate in this prorogued parliament after all because we have no balance of payment deficit anymore for the opposition to bash the government about.A skeleton cabinet also means there is less corruption. Imagine all the kickbacks not partaken of, the bribes uncollected, the commissions not handed over under the table. This means the treasury has healthy cash flow so we can send ex-prime ministers for health checkups to Delhi.But now that the Unified Marxist-Leninists are not unified anymore, Brave Lion will have more mouths to feed in the new cabinet. That can easily be resolved, what is more worrying is what we are going to call all these new communist parties — they are splitting like amoebas in heat.It used to be pretty straight forward in the old days, there was just one Communist Party of Nepal (CPN). But then there came the CPN (Mashal) and CPN (Masal) — yes, they were different parties. After that, there were the CPN (Marxist-Leninist) and CPN (Marxist-Leninist-Maoist) which merged with the others to form what we now know as the CPN (Unified Marxist-Leninist). The CPN (Maoists) got so sick of it all that they preferred to go underground and shoot everyone.But now with Makunay registering the CPN (UML-Socialist) he has opened a pandora’s box. Does this mean that the other CPNs are not socialist? If so, what does this mean for dialectic materialism and the dictatorship of the proletariat?And since the comrades seem to be suffering from ideological promiscuity, we have to make space for more communist parties in the days to come:UML (Socialite)CPN (Marxism-Leninism-Hinduism)CPN (Maoist-Monarchist)NCP (Big Plop)CPN (Revolutionary)CPN (Revolting)CPN (Asinine)

The Ass

CPN (Asinine)

<img width="1500" height="701" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/636903c99c7e80680e037ce3jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>In May, the Nepal Communist Party (NCP) faced a dilemma. The Election Commission (EC) was throwing the book at the ruling party for not meeting the constitutional requirement to have women make up at least one-third of its executive committee.Made up after <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/one-body-two-heads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the union of the UML with the Maoists,</a> NCP had just 16% women in its 441-member Central Working Committee. And it did not have a single woman in its nine-member top executive body.The EC refused to register the NCP, asking the party to first reserve 33% seats for women. Women leaders within the NCP also urged Prime Minister Oli, and NCP Chair, to induct more women into the executive committee.However, sources told Nepali Times that instead of meeting the constitutional requirement senior party cadre tried to intimidate and threaten Election Commission members.Oli and his acolytes argued that the executive committees of the UML and the Maoists were elected before the Political Parties Registration Act 2017, and therefore would not have to abide by the one-third women rule. Election Commissioners who did not agree were threatened with being framed for corruption.In a face-saving measure, the EC asked all political parties to ensure 33% women in their executive committees within 30 days. The deadline expired last month, but no party has yet inducted more women into their executive committees. They have just informed the EC that they will do so when they hold their General Conventions.MP Binda Pandey says: “In a way, all political parties have now already lost their legitimacy because they have not abided by the law even in the 30-day grace period given by the EC.”Within his own party, Oli shut his women members by ordering them not to “keep babbling with Westernised rights activists”. Oli immediately was slammed on social media for belittling women and their <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12936#.W3V8Ns4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">political contributions</a>.The way the NCP and other parties tried to bamboozle the EC doesn’t just prove the level of impunity and the erosion of the rule of law, but also indicates just how entrenched patriarchy is in the political leadership.Given this, it is not surprising that they are trying to push a discriminatory Citizenship Bill that would make Nepali women second class citizens.Ex Supreme Court Justice Balram KC, who delivered a landmark verdict on the Sabina Damai vs Government of Nepal case says the Constitution and the law have not overtly denied citizenship rights to women, but there are many cunningly ambiguous clauses that can be manipulated by the authorities to humiliate, harass or even exploit single women seeking citizenship for their children.Says KC: “Since most authorities are steeped in patriarchy, they deliberately misread and misinterpret ambiguous clauses just like how political parties have manipulated the Political Party Act.”

All political parties are technically illegal

<img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368cacd9c7e80680e02f336jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Himal Khabarpatrika 22-28 AprilInterview with civil society leader Devendra Raj Pandey on the 12th anniversary of the Democratic Movement in 2006. Himal Khabarpatrika: This week marks the triumph of the 2006 Democratic Movement. How do you recall those heady days?Devendra Raj Pandey: After 1990, people were growing frustrated with political parties and the Maoist insurgency was escalating. Yet, civil society was passive. The royal coup in 2005 gave us new energy, and we announced a civil movement for peace and democracy.Why was civil society passive? This is what happens when you have the desired political system, but the leaders do not deliver. Democracy was already restored in 1990, so we did not have to fight for it. We were disillusioned with elected leaders, but we could not ask them to step aside and let us govern the country.Why has civil society failed to create the kind of political order it envisioned? You can change the regime, but not the attitude of political leaders. After 1990 and 2006, our leaders considered money instead of people as their source of power. The general people or civil society were responsible because they stand united to overthrow authoritarian regimes, but are divided when political parties come to power. They never question the party they belong to.How has Nepal’s political course been after 2006?  Nepal was run by political cartels until recently, with a syndicate of top leaders taking all important decisions. And they were doing it not to serve the country but to cling on to power. The transition to federalism was long and bumpy, but we did not have the luxury to undo everything and start afresh. Even after three tiers of elections under the new Constitution, Madhesi, Janajati, women and Dalits have political grievances. But there is a sense of political stability, and I am hoping for new power dynamics within existing political parties and the emergence of a new political culture. <img width="456" height="410" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368cad19c7e80680e02f337jpeg.jpg" alt="">Are you suspicious of the communist government?There is speculation that the communist government will curtail civil rights and impose authoritarianism. I do not think so. We cannot regress. Democracies are under attack, and populist ultra-rightists are emerging around the globe. Our democracy is in much better shape. The only problem is that our leaders never seem to retire or improve. A politician returns to power after 12 years, but his style and attitude does not change. It looks like I am pointing to NC President Deuba, but this is true right across the political spectrum.Has civil society been donor-driven? With financial assistance come political agendas. Soon after the restoration of democracy in 1990, the Soviet Union collapsed and several new nations were born. The Western powers invested heavily in transforming these new nations into democracies. That was when they began funding Nepal's civil society movement. If we allow them to decide our state structure, order and distribution of resources, it will be harmful to us.Why did civil society not intervene when the Maoists tried to push ethnic identity-based federalism? Civil society was polarised, too. While some supported the Maoist agenda, others tried to foil them. There was no space for neutrals like us.But none of you came up with ideas to reconcile ethno-centrism and regionalism.Who listens to ideas in Nepal? I personally believe that we must accept that the State has historically excluded Janajati, Dalit and women. If we make this acceptance a point of departure, we can negotiate to mainstream these excluded communities. But how can we even start a negotiation when you end the debate with: 'This country was created by Prithvi Narayan Shah'. A radical idea was countered by another radical idea, and there was no middle ground.How can grievances of Madhesis, Janajatis and women be addressed? They need a leadership that can articulate their voice and negotiate with the government. They do not have a leader at the moment. For example, Madhesis are being led by dishonest and opportunist leaders. It is easy for the government to coopt them. But what if Madhes explodes against its own so-called messiah? It is a responsibility of the government to foresee future crises and avert them through negotiations.What's next after the Constitution, elections and federalism?Creating three levels of government is real devolution, and the Centre should no longer try to retain the unitary system. Tax payers are concerned that the State will now have to pay for too many ministers and MPs. If our elected representatives want to address these concerns, they must renounce their sense of entitlement.The agenda of stability and prosperity seems to have struck a chord with the people?  I do not understand why we are suddenly after prosperity at a time when we have failed to deliver even development. The Prime Minister is making one grandiose promise after another. But where is the mechanism to realise these dreams. A few ministers have hit the ground running, but overall the system has not improved.

“Our leaders never retire”

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

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

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Sacred seed feeds boom

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

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