This is the 49th edition of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When nothing worked out, I decided to go overseas. After successfully running a dance training academy in Nepal, I decided to invest in a restaurant which was the start of my downfall as an entrepreneur. It failed miserably.&nbsp; It got so bad, I struggled to find a bus fare to travel from my town of Banepa to Kathmandu. I had to start from scratch, and going overseas felt like the best bet.&nbsp; So I went to Qatar to work as a security guard in 2005, and was chosen from among 600 applicants. My English skills helped when I was interviewed again in Qatar when I had to compete with different nationalities and was lucky to be placed in good companies with better facilities than elsewhere. Once the contract of my supply company was over, the employers offered to place me elsewhere. But that posting did not appeal to me, and since I had settled my loans I decided to go home. &nbsp; After a few months, there was a demand for security guards again, this time at a five star hotel in the UAE. Two of us were selected out of 100 applicants. There, I found it interesting how I could identify the richest people by their car brands and especially license plates. Those with one or two digits are worth a lot of money in auctions, and there were many of those in the hotels I was posted to. I went abroad for work because of the दुख: and thankfully the hardships did not follow me there as it does many fellow migrant workers. &nbsp;I was lucky my security guard duties were indoors. Of course, there were challenges, such as difficult night shifts when guests were sometimes rowdy. Overall, I cannot complain.&nbsp; But this does not mean I had सुख: abroad either, I had not gone overseas looking for an easy life. My happiness is my family, and that is why I decided to return home after three years despite a good job. &nbsp; I resigned and was not really tempted by the promotion offers. I wanted to head home to Nepal where a friend wanted help overseeing a school. I became a Discipline In-charge and oversaw administrative functions at the school.&nbsp; While I was working at the school in Nepal, I was also poultry farming on the side. I made Rs50,000 in profit in 45 days, and the earnings were consistently good. This gave me the sense that there was a business potential in raising chicken. &nbsp; I was well suited for my job at the boarding school, but after hours I shed my tie and coat and would be carrying sacks of chicken feed on the bike. People in my community appreciated the fact that I had given up a good job abroad to return to Nepal. There is no big or small work, work is work.&nbsp; From 500 chicken, my farm expanded to 3,500 birds. I left the job at the school, and did full-time poultry farming and the number of chicken rose to 20,000 with a good profit margin.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121716128_5f8dc50e34c4cd343f15b9090c4b9a36680026bb3e1ee0c8099123a54944108e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2023121716128_5f8dc50e34c4cd343f15b9090c4b9a36680026bb3e1ee0c8099123a54944108e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  But then there was a bird flu outbreak in a farm near mine with just 300 chicken, so we had to destroy 17,000 of our birds and halt business for 6 months. Thankfully, the government stepped in with compensation and that cushioned the blow a bit.&nbsp; To diversify, I also started a slaughterhouse which supplies smaller shops. I then expanded to open a banquet venue which dovetailed well with the butchery and poultry farm. But right after, the Covid pandemic hit and there were other challenges to overcome.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231217161212_95fbbe4a243e2928e89ee68471cae0934eb66a0cce7f411ec2cb80d1b17cdea7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231217161212_95fbbe4a243e2928e89ee68471cae0934eb66a0cce7f411ec2cb80d1b17cdea7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  There is still great potential in the agro-business in Nepal, and if the government extended soft loans and grants real farmers would benefit more. Many of the smallest farmers do not benefit from government support and that is where real intervention is needed.&nbsp; I look back at the time I first migrated overseas for work. Those were different times, simpler times. &nbsp; We had 12-hour shifts, and every Friday the supervisor would arrive in his car with stacks of letters from home. The rush of emotion when we opened the envelopes was overwhelming, and hearing from the family back home was the best feeling in the world. I do not think any other joy compares with it.&nbsp; The song सन्देशे आते हैं still makes me tear up because the lyrics perfectly describe our lives, and it evokes memories of that time. Not receiving letters made us anxious. But when we received them, we would read them with tears since the pieces of paper were touched by our family members. &nbsp;Those were raw, deep feelings that do not exist in today’s interconnected world.&nbsp; I always had a knack for writing, and used to write poems since childhood. These were simpler times and any writing I did as an adult was largely limited to my diary and in letters to my wife.&nbsp; I once remember feeling low on a Saturday while at work. It was a slow day, and I was stationed at the gate. I had to let in cars and could control the barrier from the booth itself. I am not sure why I was homesick that day, and I remember writing relentlessly in my diary which I still keep with me. &nbsp; I used to also help fellow-Nepalis draft letters when they faced family problems, especially with their spouses. Prolonged separation over long distances is already difficult on relationships and words had more value in the era of letters before video calls.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023121716128_752dfba5b7bb174b48de4109b1405230b2b4d44130b72d074895a78b3901101d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023121716128_752dfba5b7bb174b48de4109b1405230b2b4d44130b72d074895a78b3901101d" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 49"> </figure>  But not everyone is good with words, and some of my compatriots needed help to express to their wives how much they loved them and how they were toiling in the desert heat for their futures. Some would thank me because the letters helped mend their marital relations.&nbsp; When you are abroad, you make many friends. But even though over time you lose touch the memories are special. We had autograph books, in which we wrote farewell notes to each other. I still have mine, where one of my friends Parmananda wrote to me: Imprisoned by time, we had to struggle to express in words the mental trauma that bubbled in the corners of our hearts. But that prolonged companionship during which we worked, laughed and cried together will just be memories, and that realisation makes me regretful. However, there is no other recourse but to bandage our broken hearts as we part our ways. We have to accept that all meetings eventually end in separation. Till my last breath, I will read and re-read these words and cling to feelings which are fast fading. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad.&nbsp; Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.&nbsp;

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No work is big or small, work is work

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131124/637233ff9c7e80680e0c490ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The Impeyan Pheasant, Nepal’s national bird, and the Blood Pheasant are protected species, so Nepalis are taking to rearing other wild fowl as a healthy alternative to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/are-you-sick-of-chicken/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">poultry</a>.The Danfe, Monal and other jungle fowl are still illegally hunted, but increased demand during the pandemic has led entrepreneurs to raise कालिज pheasant with varying degrees of success.Ashish Upadhyay worked in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-qatar-job-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Qatar</a> for 11 years before returning to Nepal with the idea of starting a pheasant farm. With three friends he set up Kalpit Wildlife Agro Centre in Bhaktapur five years ago.The company imported 4,000 Ringed-neck Pheasant eggs from the Czech Republic at Rs2,000 each. But due to lack of specialised knowhow, only 400 of the eggs hatched, and it was difficult to keep the birds alive in captivity.Learning by trial and error and with careful tending, Upadhyay’s farm now has over 1,000 pheasants on half-hectare farm, and is selling to customers in the capital.Nepalis have traditionally sought pheasant meat as an immunity-boosting diet for convalescing patients, which is why demand shot up during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-real-cost-of-nepals-second-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">pandemic</a> and jungle fowl were poached in the forests surrounding Kathmandu.“During the pandemic, demand for pheasant meat rose and with economy of scale our farm can be commercially viable,” says Upadhya, showing a visitor around enclosures alive with foraging Ringed-necks.Dhruva Thapa is another entrepreneur who actually trained as a poultry farmer overseas and brought back pheasant eggs from France to start his Tulsikunj Eco and Wild Village in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokharas-royal-egret-sanctuary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Pokhara</a>.Like Upadhyay, it was not easy in the beginning. And Thapa’s farm at the edge of the forest was raided by a leopard one day, and he lost most of the birds he had carefully raised.But business has rebounded, and he now has 10,000 pheasants in a 1.5 hectare farm outside <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/paddy-planting-in-pokhara/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Pokhara</a> where he has added a swimming pool and restaurant specialising in pheasant dishes.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131124/637234029c7e80680e0c490fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption>a commercial pheasant farm.</figcaption></figure>The Ring-necked Pheasant has seven subspecies, and is the bird that does best in captivity. Other wild fowl have an even lower survival rate.Unlike chicken, which require specialised feed, pheasants forage on soil, weeds, and insects such as grasshoppers. They therefore need a greater area with plenty of trees and shrubbery, and cannot be crammed into sheds like chicken in broiler factories.Also unlike chicken, pheasants need to fly, which means the enclosures need sky-nets. A fully-grown pheasant weighs up to two kilograms, and is ready for sale at 6 months for Rs2,500 each. Females begin to lay eggs from nine months.Nepal’s pioneering pheasant farmers warn that the business is not as easy as poultry, the return on investment is not as assured, and insurance is an issue. They say pheasants are still protected species, and government policies do not make a distinction between wild and farmed birds.Nirmal Nepal of Tulsipur invested Rs10 million to buy 1,000 pheasant eggs from Belgium four years ago. But because all his knowhow came from watching YouTube tutorials, he lost half of his chicks to the cold.“I was inexperienced and did not know enough in the beginning,” admits Nepal, whose flock has now grown to 10,000 pheasants.Ironically the success of independent pheasant farmers across Nepal has also brought down the price for chicks. Newly-hatched chicks now sell for only Rs500, down from Rs1,500 four years ago.“I used to get orders from as far away as Ilam and Doti, but I have stopped selling them. It’s just not worth it,” says Nepal.According to the Company Registrar, there are nearly 8,000 commercial poultry farms across the country, and only four of them are formally registered to raise pheasants.What would help would be trainers and professionals specialising in pheasant farming. Veterinarians tend to treat pheasants like they would chicken, even though the two species are completely different.“There is neither feed nor required medical resources for pheasants in the market,” says Baburam Shrestha, a farmer in Butwal who trained to raise poultry in France and Italy and is now also raising pheasants.“Production has increased with the increase in pheasant farmers, but the market is still limited,” adds Shrestha, who also complains of falling prices for both chicks and meat.“Although it might look like business is profitable, that is actually not the case yet.”Shrestha has had to improvise as he goes along, experimenting with different types of pheasant feed after he was unable to find a supplier for the proper product. Other pheasant farmers simply feed their birds what they give their chicken.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131124/637234059c7e80680e0c4910jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3298" height="3198"><figcaption>Ring-necked Pheasant</figcaption></figure>Shrestha is among the earliest pheasant farmers in Nepal, and in 2017 became the first farmer to get a permit to raise pheasants. But it was a nine-month process because government agencies had no knowledge or policies about pheasant farming."When we got the permit, it was under the condition that we only sell live birds, and that too only to other poultry farms,” Shrestha recalls.Although it is registered as an industry, pheasant farmers struggle to get approval from the Department of Forests, Department of Livestock Services, or the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation.Indeed, Nepal’s National Parks and Wildlife Protection Act 1973 stipulates that the study, research, breeding and rearing of wildlife like jungle fowl require conservation permits.By law, individuals or organisations seeking to raise and breed wild animals commercially are required to prepare a detailed business and action plan along with their application, following which a technical committee evaluates the proposal.There is even confusion over which government agency is supposed to licence pheasant farming, which has led most farmers to register their business either at the company registrar's office or the Department of Cottage and Small Industries.Even though the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Department has a legal provision to permit pheasant rearing, there are no standards in place for the government to grant permission to pheasant farmers.Forest Ministry spokesperson Meghnath Kafle says that standards related to wildlife rearing, breeding, sale and distribution are finally being drawn up.But Nepal’s pheasant farmers are not waiting for the government to get its act together to formulate regulation, they are going ahead to make the business viable.

A pheasant uprising in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/6372333a9c7e80680e0c48d0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3264" height="1472"/><figcaption>Photos: ROSHAN MISHRA</figcaption></figure>Among the many legends about the Boudhanath Stupa, one involves a poor poultry keeper Jhazima and the buffalo skin.Boudhanatha is in fact the Sanskritised Panchayat-era renaming of the chaitya which was originally called <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-temple-by-another-name/">Khasti Mahachaitya</a> (‘great stupa of the dew drops’). However, the chaitya had another name too according to the Tibetan Buddhist tradition –– the Great Jarung Kashor (‘Let it be done, Slip of the tongue’) Stupa.Many years before the birth of the Shakyamuni Buddha, Jhazima, lived with her four sons in the village where Boudha sits today. After the demise of the Kasyapa Buddha, she petitioned the king to grant her land the size of a buffalo’s skin to build a stupa and inter the Buddha’s remains. The king, thinking it would be a measly piece of land, gave her permission.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/6372333d9c7e80680e0c48d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>However, Jhazima carefully cut the buffalo skin in a long strip, like a rope, and circumscribed a larger area – where the great Boudhanath Stupa stands today.This symbol of devotion quickly took on a political significance, as the wealthy people of the country were humbled by Jhazima’s faithful act.If a poor woman like her can build a stupa of such magnificence, they thought, they would have to build shrines equal to the mountains.“Stop the building,” they implored the king: “If this construction continues, then each and every one of us will be harshly criticised.”But the king would not hear of it. “This poor, single poultry-woman, through gathering earnings from raising chickens, established her four sons born of four fathers as respectable householders. Not only that, with her remaining wealth she builds a stupa such as this. I thought this to be truly amazing, and so the words <a href="https://www.lotsawahouse.org/tibetan-masters/ngakchang-shakya-zangpo/great-history-of-jarung-kashor-stupa" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.lotsawahouse.org/tibetan-masters/ngakchang-shakya-zangpo/great-history-of-jarung-kashor-stupa&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1660101181265000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1wvhhCg-Bb6IhKdfptWV4l">‘Let it be done’ (jarung) slipped from my tongue (kashor)</a>. Kings speak but once!” he said in response.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637233409c7e80680e0c48d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="1055"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This charming and extraordinary story is the subject of Object in Focus #5: Invocation at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TaragaonMuseum">Taragaon Museum</a> situated next door to Boudhnath itself by contemporary visual artists Koka Vashakidze from Georgia and Alicia Junissaliyeva from Kazakhstan and curated by Roshan Mishra.At the centre of the room is a dark-coloured rope-like object spiraling – almost like a dizzying solar system, with what looks like a vague triangle standing in for the Sun – and surrounded by a rectangle of red ropes.But as one walks around, observes the work with an unfaltering gaze, the circle of the base quickly stands out. Then, with a little change in the angle, one can imagine a dome rising from it, followed by the ever-watching eyes and the finial.Here is the Boudhanath Stupa, translated, stripped down to its backbone – an abstraction. Like a cosmic bridge, it brings together the myth and the monument, looking both ways into the past and present.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637233439c7e80680e0c48d3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4000" height="1800">All this may not be entirely conspicuous at first, but when one realises that the whorl is in fact real buffalo skin, the pieces fall in place. The rectangle outlines the block of land upon which the Mandala sits today. Take a step back outside the building and the doors represent the streets opening around the complex.The artists spent several weeks in Boudhanath, measuring the circumference of the stupa. Since animal skin is not permitted inside, they used the red rope for the purpose. People would come and watch them at work, perhaps wondering what they were up to. But the story of Jhazima, Vashakidze believes, was one of undefeated courage and creativity.Jhazima defied expectation, says Vashakidze. And instead of just putting the skin on the ground, she cut it in narrow strips to cover more area, demonstrating her boundless imagination. “And the king in the end has to say, ‘No, she has to continue making the stupa’,” he adds.Vashakidze, whose extensive contemporary body of work ranges from site-specific pieces to media installations, sees this as the moment when the rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak, are equal – because one woman with devotion for the Buddha stood up against the system and built an unprecedented monument, anticipating perhaps even the Shakyamuni.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131120/637233479c7e80680e0c48d4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="750">The artwork, in this sense, is an invocation to memory, to history and to Jhazima. Along with Junissaliyeva’s experience in healing and energy exploration, the trio of the artists and curator Mishra has created a poignant piece that is equally contemplative and dramatic, reminding us that despite the overwhelming restrictions – political, social, professional – and widespread philosophical, spiritual lethargy around us, we can still create what we want to, for the realm of possibility is boundless.Says Mishra: “I think it is a brilliant notion to sit with one object, one narrative.” This has much to do with the fact that the viewers can spend time with this echo from the past under an extended spell.Leaving the exhibition, one is filled with a striking desire to visit the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-stupa-of-a-million-dewdrops/">Boudhanath Stupa</a>, where the remains of Kasyapa Buddha are believed to be entombed, to compare, to recall. There too, prayers and invocations from all around bounce off the white dome and fill the air with sweet music, as though the voices of good will have never ceased and promise to echo into the future – in the same way that Object in focus #5: Invocation is an echo itself, of the enduring legacy of Jhazima.The artwork will also travel to the Tbilisi Triennial in Georgia in October 2022.Object in focus #5: InvocationBy Koka Vashakidze and Alicia JunissaliyevaCurated by Roshan MishraTaragaon Museum,BoudhaOpen 10:00am – 5:00pmTill 18 August 2022.

Ashish Dhakal

Echoes of myth and monument

<h6>Antibiotics in poultry make Nepalis resistant to drugs that fight infections</h6>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlOudtkiAyQ&amp;feature=youtu.beThe next time you dig into a plate of chicken curry and rice or order momos, you may want to first find out what the birds are fed in the poultry farm where the meat came from.Broiler poultry is fast replacing free-ranging chicken in markets across Nepal, meaning birds bred in crowded pens have to be fed <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11719#.WweuOe6FO70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">antibiotics</a> so they don't get infections and grow faster.Half of broiler chicken meat and eggs in Nepal are estimated to have antibiotic residue. This means people who consume them slowly develop a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Antibiotic-resistance,1974" target="_blank" rel="noopener">resistance to antibiotics</a>, and will not respond to treatment of bacterial infections.An <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/counter-attack-microbes,3407" target="_blank" rel="noopener">epidemic of anti-microbial resistance is sweeping the world</a>, and scientists say one of the main reasons is the ingestion of antibiotics from poultry products, dairy milk, pork and aquaculture fish.Common illnesses are turning into potential killers, and surgery can sometimes be fatal because of ‘superbugs’ that are immune to most antibiotics. Kathmandu hospitals all have patients who are not responding to antibiotic treatment for typhoid, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/resistance-to-live-saving-drugs-threatens-to-set-back-progress-in-nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener">tuberculosis</a>, pneumonia, or common infected wounds.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d7049c7e80680e0314bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/>“Two-third of antibiotics globally is used on animals, and chicken are often fed last resort antibiotics. It may not be a good idea to eat poultry products,” advises Buddha Basnyat, physician at Patan Hospital.Numerous studies in Nepal have shown that antibiotic residue in poultry is finding its way into the human food chain. Poultry farmers use antibiotics not just when their chicken fall sick, but for prevention and also as a growth promoter.“We know it for a fact that farmers are using antibiotics in poultry as prophylactics to prevent diseases,” explains Sameer Mani Dixit of the Centre for Molecular Dynamics Nepal. “We might be getting healthy chicken, but at the cost of resistance that has major public health consequences.”However, the use of antibiotics in poultry farms is going down in Nepal because of a recent law against antibiotic additives in chicken feed, and farmers are now generally more careful about hygiene. Even so, chicken consumption in Nepal has grown several fold in the last decade as living standards rise. Nepalis consume up to 5kg per capita of chicken meat per year, higher than annual consumption per person in India and Bangladesh combined.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d7079c7e80680e0314bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="840"><a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5870509/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A study</a> this year by the Institute of Agriculture and Animal Sciences showed that 94% of the E coli bacteria in broiler chicken in Chitwan showed resistance to up to four types of antibiotics. Not only is antimicrobial residue in meat making people resistant to the drugs, but the chicken themselves are contaminated with harmful bugs that are resistant. (See chart, below)<a href="https://www.nepjol.info/index.php/IJASBT/article/view/18302" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Another study</a> published in the International Journal of Applied Sciences and Biotechnology last year showed high tetracyclin and penicillin residue in 22% of meat samples in Kavre and Kailali districts. <a href="https://www.farm.com.np/research/detection-of-antibiotic-residues-in-marketed-broiler-meat-of-gorkha-parsa-chitwan-and-kathmandu-district/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Another research</a> by the Institute of Agriculture and Animal Science, Rampur, showed that 40% of chicken samples in Gorkha, Parsa, Chitwan and Kathmandu had penicillin residue, while 35% had tetracycline traces, and there were aminoglycosides in 17.5% of the samples.An earlier study by the Department of Food Technology and Quality Control found that nearly 70% of chicken meat sold in Kathmandu Valley still had ampicillin residue -- with about 17% having concentrations above the permissible threshold.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d70a9c7e80680e0314bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="700" height="666">Although Nepal now has a law against antibiotic additives in feed, the ban is not effective because of the open border with India. A recent expose by the UK-based Bureau of Investigative Journalism titled ‘<a href="https://www.thebureauinvestigates.com/stories/2018-01-30/a-game-of-chicken-how-indian-poultry-farming-is-creating-global-superbugs" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A Game of Chicken: How Indian Poultry Farming is Creating Global Superbugs</a>’ revealed lax controls, and a looming superbug epidemic in hospitals across India.High bacterial disease burden, overuse of human antibiotics, and no regulation on use of antimicrobials in poultry and livestock means <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/india-tackles-the-emergent-threat-of-superbugs,1976" target="_blank" rel="noopener">India is sitting on a time bomb</a>, scientists say. And right next door, with no border controls, is Nepal.The British company Venky exported nearly a thousand tons of the ‘last hope’ antibiotic colistin branded ‘Colis V’ to India and Nepal in 2016 for use in poultry, according to customs data. WHO has recommended that colistin be restricted in animals because it is one of the few drugs that can still treat infections in humans. Two Indian companies also manufacture colistin as antibiotics and growth promoters.The report quoted Timothy Walsh, professor of Medical Microbiology at Cardiff University as saying: “Colistin is the last line of defence. It is the only drug we have to treat critically ill patients resistant to carbapenems. Giving it to chickens as feed is crazy.”Carbapenems are last resort antibotics used to fight infections in the bladder, lungs and blood in humans, but more than half of infected patients in India are already resistant to carbapenems and need colistin to get better. Drug resistant infections kill an estimated 58,000 babies in India every year. In Nepal, there is evidence that colistin resistance is spreading among humans (see graph, below).<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d70c9c7e80680e0314bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="411">Although European countries have restricted antibiotic use in animal feed, the United States is still using it indiscriminately even though the Atlanta-based Centre for Disease Control and Prevention and WHO have warned about the proven link between antibiotics in animals and antibiotic-resistant infections in humans.From 2008 to 2016, Nepal’s import of veterinary drugs is estimated to have doubled as poultry farms proliferate to meet demand. An estimated Rs300 million worth of veterinary antibiotics were imported last year, records show. Nepal meets only 15% of its poultry and livestock antibiotic requirement from domestic pharmaceutical companies. Experts say the government controls on antibiotic additives in animal feed will not work as long as it is allowed in India.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d70e9c7e80680e0314bejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="579"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“The trend of antibiotic residue in poultry and resistance in humans won’t stop unless there is a better mechanism to regulate and monitor quality control and sales of drugs,” says Varun Sharma at the Department of Livestock. "Our only hope is to make sure that antibiotics which still work last longer, by regulating their use."There is also a need to make poultry farmers aware of the dangers. Many have a misconception that antibiotics prevent infections and promote growth, when it should be given only for treatment. However, Til Chandra Bhattarai of Pancha Ratna Group of Poultry Industries in Chitwan says it is impossible to run a modern poultry business without antibiotics because of the widespread danger of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-chicken,657" target="_blank" rel="noopener">avian infections</a>.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d7109c7e80680e0314bfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="758">Tika Rai, who runs a poultry farm in Nuwakot that supplies meat to Kathmandu markets, agrees. He urges the government to help with alternatives like probiotics as growth promoters and biosecurity.“These drugs are a major cost in the business, but we cannot stop using antibiotics. We would lose all our investment if the birds die,” Rai told us.Farmers are also said to be violating the withdrawal period which requires birds fed antibiotics to be quarantined for a period before being sold. Over-the-counter sales of antibiotics, over-prescription and self-administration in poultry farms all contribute to spreading drug-resistance in humans.WHO calls antibiotic resistance the biggest threat to global health. It warns that South Asia is 'the epicentre' of the drug resistance crisis, and an epidemic of superbugs in India would engulf Nepal as well.Many Nepalis already have multi-drug resistant tuberculosis and pneumonia that do not respond to treatment, because of earlier misuse of antibiotics, and from eating chicken raised on antibiotic-laced feed.Says Sarada Thapaliya, Dean of Veterinary Science and Fisheries in Chitwan: “The restrictive and judicious use of antibiotics in animal feed is the best available solution for now.”<h4>Banning antibiotics in food animals</h4><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107101156/6368d7129c7e80680e0314c0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="795">The link between anti-microbial resistance in humans and antibiotic use in poultry and livestock is now scientifically proven, and countries around the world have banned their use as growth promoters. Many countries still allow limited use to control poultry epidemics, but enforce a window period after the drugs are administered so the meat does not have drug residue when consumed.Sweden was the first country to stop animal antibiotic use as growth promoters, in 1986. In 2006, the EU banned all antibiotics used to make animals grow faster. In 2017, the US also restricted antibiotics as feed supplement.In the Asia Pacific region, antibiotic use in poultry feed is projected to rise by 129%, by 2030, with India and China leading the way because of higher living standards. Bangladesh law in 2010 criminalises antibiotic use as growth promoter in animal feed.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Antibiotic-resistance,1974" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Antibiotic resistance</a>, Buddha Basnyat and Hellen Gelband<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/growth-of-antibiotic-resistance-in-nepal,1975" target="_blank" rel="noopener">"Patients are impatient"</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/counter-attack-microbes,3407" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Counter-attack of microbes</a>, Sameer M Dixit, Buddha Basnyat and Paras PokhrelSource: Department of Food Technology and Quality Control, Antibiotic resistance pattern and virulence genes content in avian pathogenic Escherichia coli (APEC) from broiler chickens in Chitwan, Nepal, Multi-drug resistance and extended spectrum beta lactamase producing Gram negative bacteria from chicken meat in Bharatpur Metropolitan, Nepal, Prevalence and Antibioic Resistance Profile of Salmonella from Livestock and Poultry Raw Meat, Nepal, Assessment of Antibiotic Residues in the Marketed Meat of Kailali and Kavre of Nepal, Detection of antibiotic residues in marketed broiler meat of Gorkha, Parsa, Chitwan and Kathmandu districtReaders write:<a href="https://twitter.com/RajeebLalSatyal" data-user-id="85534869">Rajeeb Lal Satyal‏</a>Not scary anymore. It comes in package as a part of being Nepali and a lot more. We become vegetarian for the same reason. But Vegetarians are also not free. Every vegetable we eat has pesticide. That's why, unlike in old days, we look for vegetables with insects instead.

Sonia Awale

Are you sick of chicken?

Recent outrage in Sikkim over an Indian Army expedition climbing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-kangchenjunga">Kangchenjunga</a>, the world’s third-highest peak, has spiked attention to the need to balance mountaineering jobs with indigenous reverence for sacred landmarks. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) is not a peak as much as it is a mountain range with 16 peaks above 7,000m on the border between India and Nepal -- the word itself means ‘five treasures of the snows’ in Tibetan. Some of the highest prominences like Kangchenjunga West and Kangbachen are in Nepal, while the Main, Central and South Peaks are on the border. Climbing the peak from the Indian side has been banned since 2001 because the indigenous Lepcha community there regard the mountain as the abode of Dzoe-nga, the patron deity of Sikkim, which was an independent Himalayan Kingdom until it was annexed by India in 1975.&nbsp; Buddhists in Sikkim say their saint, Padmasambhava, recognised the mountain as a protective spirit. The state has declared the base of the mountain Kangchenjunga National Park, which covers an area one-third of Sikkim. ‘The act of scaling this sacred peak is not only a matter of serious concern but also a violation of both the prevailing legal provisions and the deeply held religious beliefs of the people of Sikkim,’ read a letter from Chief Minister Prem Singh Tamang (Golay) to Amit Shah, India’s Minister of Home Affairs and Cooperation.&nbsp; Tamang continued: ‘We further request Your Honour to take up the issue with the Government of Nepal to ensure that no future expeditions are permitted on the sacred mountain, in deference to the deeply held beliefs and cultural values of the people of Sikkim.’ Kangchenjunga was climbed for the first time exactly 70 years ago by a British team who told King Tashi Namgyal, the Choegyal of Sikkim, that they would not set foot on the summit. Since then, there have been about 532 successful climbs of the peaks and 52 have died while trying.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250628060616_5c268e08cf49f36b79ef9b31933fc2d9bf9a6f65414e7ca06dd028bf04e7ccc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1782" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Indigenous communities in Sikkim held purification ceremonies following the Indian expedition to Kangchenjunga. Photo: THE VOICE OF SIKKIM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">This spring climbing season</a> alone, there were 70 climbing permits for foreigners issued for Kangchenjunga by the Nepal government, and made it to the top while one French climber died.&nbsp; One of the expeditions this year was an Indian Army team led by Col Ranveer Jamwal, who has summited the highest peaks on all seven continents, and Mt Everest thrice. Jamwal’s team was on the final leg of a ‘<a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/nimas-summits-mt-kangchenjunga-concludes-historic-har-shikhar-tiranga-mission-successfully/articleshow/121341315.cms?from=mdr">Har Shikhar Tiranga</a>’ (The Tricolour on Every Peak) mission to plant the Indian flag at the highest points of each of India’s 28 states. Kanchenjunga was the last peak they had left, and the hardest, but the expedition put five climbers on the summit. What seems to have incensed the Sikkimese is that while it has banned climbing the mountain from its side, it was an Indian military expedition that went to Nepal to climb the mountain. After news broke of the climb in May, the Sikkim Indigenous Lepcha Tribal Association asked people to observe purification ceremonies in temples across the state. Mayalmit Lepcha of the association acknowledged that the Sikkim government was also partly at fault: “I don’t think such an expedition could have gone forward without the state government being informed, so it could have done something to intervene. It shows weakness. What’s done is done, all we can do is carry out these sanctification ceremonies.”&nbsp; In 2000, one year before Sikkim’s ban, the state allowed an Austrian team to attempt Kanchenjunga’s northeast face for a fee of $20,000, on agreement that they would stop 10m before the summit. Despite this, there was outrage over the expedition on the grounds that it violated Indian laws regarding the defiling of religious sites and Sikkim’s rights to maintain its culture after merging with India. The Indian Army expedition was also seen to have circumvented Sikkim’s law and violated religious sensibilities by going through Nepal. While the team may have thought they were respecting Sikkim’s beliefs by finding a way to complete the mission, the people of Sikkim saw it as defilement.&nbsp; The somber mood of the Sikkim people at the ritual contrasts sharply with Jamwal’s sense of accomplishment. “Without a doubt, the most difficult summit of my life,” he told reporters after the climb. “It tested every ounce of our will.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250628060616_ccfe079c78dab788d19fe2080ee8a5d5dcb11de4157316f6d94e5964da097157" data-rendition-name="original" width="787" height="377" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb NT"> <figcaption>Prayer flags along the Sikkim-Kangchenjunga trekking route. Photo: TREKKINGININDIA.COM</figcaption> </figure>  The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">controversial Nepali-British mountaineer Nirmal Purja</a> was also on Kangchenjunga this spring the mountain, on a mission to summit all 14 8,000m peaks for a third time. He echoed Jamwal about the tough conditions: “The conditions above camp were extremely tough, with deep snow and challenging terrain—more crevasses than usual.” Nepal’s government has not said anything publicly, but it is unlikely that it will ban climbing on Kangchenjunga, since it is becoming popular with expeditions because of its technical challenges, and overcrowding on Mt Everest. Nepal does have bans in place for some of its mountains out of respect for local beliefs. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/to-open-machapuchre-for-mountaineering-or-not">Mt Machapuchre</a> (6,990m) the imposing pyramid that looms over Pokhara, for example, is seen as an icon of purity by the Gurung people and a symbol of Vishnu by the Hindu communities who live at its base. A strict climbing ban has been in place since 1957, when a British expedition led by Col Jimmy Roberts stopped 45m short of the summit – either because the last bit was too difficult or out of deference to local sentiments.&nbsp; Khumbila that stands above Namche Bazar is only 5,761m high, but like Kanchenjunga is considered the protector deity of the Sherpa people. Gauri Shankar on the Nepal-China border, called Chomo Tseringma by the local community, was off-limits between 1965 and 1979 due to its association with Lord Shiva and Gauri, his consort. Although expeditions are now allowed, there are not too many takers. In Tibet, climbing Mount Kailash is prohibited by the Chinese government because it revered by the Hindus, Buddhists and followers of the Bon faith. Even Mt Everest is regarded as sacred, and its Sherpa name is Chomolungma, Goddess Mother of the Earth.&nbsp; Economically, climbs on Kanchenjunga bring in decent revenue. This climbing season, the 41 permits, at $1,800 each, brought in $73,800. This is somewhat comparable to Makalu, Lhotse, and Annapurna I, but these numbers are dwarfed by the $4 million in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Everest permits</a>. Revenue from Kanchenjunga climbing permits is something Nepal could potentially forgo if necessary, but the expeditions also provide jobs to hundreds of high altitude guides, porters, base camp support staff and other logistical costs.&nbsp; As the third highest mountain in the world and the tallest in India, there will always be significant motivation to climb it from the Nepal side, especially as climbers are drawn by the technical climbing at high altitude.

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

The debate about who is less accountable to the public: politicians or bureaucrats is as old as Nepal’s democracy itself.
Some blame politicians for being beholden to the businessmen who finance their electoral campaigns, and are forced to return the favour with contracts and kickbacks when in power.&nbsp;
Others say it is civil servants who are neither civil nor servants, and know the inner workings of the system to exploit loopholes – they then teach ministers, MPs, mayors, or ward chairs which juicy projects can be squeezed. And everyone gets their share.
In reality, it is probably not a case of either, or. Both have their hands deep in the honey pot. Corruption is now such a given that yet another exposé in the mainstream press, like the latest visit-visa scam, does not raise eyebrows anymore.
We may have to edit Lord Acton’s famous quote to say that in Nepal we do not even need absolute power to corrupt absolutely. The ruling cartel has divvied up the spoils, so that no one ever faces charges. The three parties all know about the skeletons rattling in each other’s closets, and they cancel each other out.
Politicians and bureaucrats get all the blame for taking bribes, but what of the givers of bribes? In this crony capitalism, businesses invariably need political patrons in an elaborate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">national network of give-and-take</a>.
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-only-growth-industry-private-sector-corruption" target="_blank">Politicians and businesses work hand-in-glove</a> so that conflict of interest in contracts, insider trading, cartelling, and non-performing assets of banks become the norm. Our survey after the 2017 local election showed that out of the 753 newly-elected local government chairs, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/elected-contractors" target="_blank">nearly 300 were contractors</a> involved in sand-mining, quarrying, or transportation syndicates.
Nepal’s tycoons have discovered that instead of donating to election war chests of politicians, it is a much surer return on investment to spend the money to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal" target="_blank">become legislators and politicians themselves</a>.
In democracies, there are checks and balances to control corruption when it becomes endemic. The Nepal Police and Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) are supposed to do the detective work without political interference. The courts are required to be independent in dispensing justice and punishing crooks.
But the less said about the judiciary the better. A writ petition in the Supreme Court last week accused our sister magazine <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> of contempt of court for two stories: one about how high courts have been overturning a majority of verdicts of district courts in cases of rape, and another about the Biratnagar High Court clearing a self-proclaimed holy man, Krishna Bahadur Giri, of rape despite police presenting physical evidence.
The doctrine of the separation of powers stipulates that it is when the other three pillars in a democracy are compromised that the role of the free press becomes even more vital. The world over, as soon as populist autocrats are elected to the executive, their first order of business is to co-opt the legislature and the judiciary. Then they buy off, intimidate, or neutralise the media with Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPP).
Nepal’s officialdom seems to be taking midnight Zoom lessons from other despots on how to gag the media. Last month, popular talk show host Dil Bhushan Pathak was served an arrest warrant by the Kathmandu District Court for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CntsnTrtG8" target="_blank">a YouTube explainer</a> about the alleged involvement of the son of Foreign Minister Arzu Deuba Rana in a reported purchase of Kathmandu’s Hilton Hotel.
The Lalitpur District Court ruled that Pathak could not be arrested without fair trial, but this week the Kathmandu District Court filed another case against the journalist based on a complaint by the Cyber Bureau, and put him on a fugitive list.&nbsp;
Without going into the veracity of Pathak’s explainer, it is deeply problematic that the Electronic Transaction Act has been invoked – proof that politicians are getting the courts and investigating agencies to make an example of a high profile journalist.&nbsp;
The intention is to silence media investigations into the fake refugee scandal in which the main partner in the ruling coalition is implicated, and in which one of its former home ministers was jailed last year.
The Kathmandu High Court has been mysteriously active in targeting journalists these days. <a href="https://bizmandu.com/" target="_blank">Bizmandu</a> and <a href="https://nepalkhabar.com/" target="_blank">Nepalkhabar</a> were served a notice last month <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-freedom-after-expression-y4inku06" target="_blank">to withdraw a story they did</a> on the Chair of the <a href="https://www.sebon.gov.np/" target="_blank">Security and Exchange Board of Nepal (SEBON</a>) Santosh Narayan Shrestha allegedly demanding kickbacks from hydropower investors.&nbsp;
Incredibly, the court even asked the two portals not to report on the subject anymore – a ruling so absurd that the Patan High Court overturned it a week later.&nbsp;
The allegations against Shrestha were made in a public meeting of the <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Independent Power Producers Association of Nepal (IPPAN)</a>, and MPs demanded a <a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/parliament-demands-probe-into-sebon-chairman-over-alleged-commission-demand-40-32.html" target="_blank">Parliament inquiry</a> into the regulator. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/144523/santosh-narayan-shrestha" target="_blank">HimalKhabar</a> reported this week that while Shrestha was reportedly demanding commissions from private investors for IPOs, he cleared primary share sales in Bajhang’s 10.75MW <a href="https://www.ippan.org.np/members/3060/bungal-hydro-ltd" target="_blank">Bungal Hydro</a> in which his family members have investments, company records show.
And then just on Monday, bureaucrats hoodwinked MPs by deleting references in a bill requiring a two-year ‘cooling off’ period under which retiring civil servants could be barred from holding constitutional positions for two years.
The contest for who is more corrupt: bureauacrats, politicians, or the private sector is on.
Kunda Dixit

SLAPPing Democracy

The monsoon this year arrived on time, and brought life-giving rain — irrigating paddy terraces, recharging groundwater, reviving springs, and increasing electricity generation.
But Nepal has to deal with either too much water or too little. On a clear April day before the monsoon, the hills of Sindhuli district were parched, and there were wildfires burning out of control. There had been no rain for the past six months.
And that has been the perennial crisis for Nepal’s farmers: that 85% of the rainfall occurs during just four months of the monsoon with little rain for the other eight months.&nbsp;
The water crisis is related to the powerful changes sweeping the mid-hill region of Nepal. With better roads, higher incomes and more exposure, many residents now aspire to have the kind of water supply seen in urban homes. They want hot or cold water at the turn of a tap, showers and flush tank toilets.&nbsp;
To meet this rising demand, many local and provincial governments are investing in large water supply projects often by lifting water from rivers hundreds of metres down the mountain. But these new systems may not be sustainable in the long run.
Many villages in Sindhuli are switching from local springs to piped systems, and even in rural homes, overhead tanks are becoming common.
But this new convenience comes with big challenges. Lifting water from rivers far below requires long pipes, electric pumps, and constant maintenance. These systems are costly, and the streams themselves often shrink to a trickle in the dry months. Big water-lifting schemes look impressive, but there is doubt if they can meet growing water demand.
A much more sustainable solution would be what some communities are doing: restoring old ponds or build new recharge systems. But those villages are exceptions, in most places traditional ponds and wallows are being filled up to be turned into sports fields, or make way for buildings.
Where there are new ponds, they are sometimes in the wrong places or without proper design. Roads and drains are not engineered properly and have increased landslides and erosion. Water management in hilly areas is not just about building things, it is about building in the right way, in the right place.
Traditional water systems were based on nature. They were not perfect, but they used the land wisely. Ponds used to hold rainwater and slowly refill springs which supported families, farms, and forests.&nbsp;
Not everything worked well in the past, but we can learn from traditional water management practices. Across Nepal, some rural municipalities have launched campaigns to store monsoon runoff — either in tanks, ponds or by recharging the aquifers.
But not all efforts have been successful. Some ponds are built without any hydrological study. Some are rushed to meet deadlines rather than real needs.&nbsp;
Now, the Muhan initiative hopes to revive springs to make households more resilient and help farmings. With the financial support of the Australian Centre for International Agricultural Research, research is being done to understand how springs work and how they are affected by changes in rainfall, land use, and development.&nbsp;
Instead of just building pipes and tanks, the project maps the entire springshed so we can understand the root cause of water shortage. In Sindhuli, the problem is not the amount of rain, but the loss of natural systems that store it and the social systems that manage water.&nbsp;
Nepal’s towns and villages now face a major challenge: how to manage water all year round as demand rises with people’s living standards. Depending only on river-lift systems is not a sustainable solution.&nbsp;
We need a mix of approaches that help store water from the rainy season to make it available for the rest of the year, whether by directly harvesting rainwater, restoring ponds, managing springsheds, or smart management of demand.
Rural Nepal is also seeing dramatic depopulation. Much of the outmigration can be stemmed if there is easier water supply for agriculture and household use. Across the mid hills, villages are emptying because springs are going dry. Government policy needs to catch up with the reality on the ground, and support solutions that work for people and nature. Every water supply plan should include recharge structures. Every road or building project should consider water flow and erosion. Local governments need more than budgets: they need training, tools, and data.
Ngamindra Dahal is with the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu. Hemant Ojha collaborated in this piece and is associated with the Australian National University.

Water for Life

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The Kusunda</a> are among the last remaining hunter-gatherer communities left in Nepal, and it has only one fluent speaker left of a language that is not related to any other language group in South Asia.&nbsp; The Kusunda call themselves the King of the Forests ((गेम्येहाक़ in Kusunda,वन राजा in Nepali) and used to have a nomadic lifestyle till recently. But decades of exclusion from mainstream society and modernity have forced the Kusunda to assimilate. &nbsp; Today, most Kusunda live across Nepal’s mid-hills and western plains, choosing to identify themselves as Thakuri and adopting names like Sen, Shahi, and Khan to avoid ostracisation. Over time, inter-ethnic marriages between the Kusunda and other communities became increasingly common.&nbsp; However, the assimilation with other communities also meant that almost no one from the Kusunda community can speak their mother tongue – considered by linguists to be a ‘language isolate’ not related to any other language group in the world, and lacking set rules of grammar that are foundational to other languages. There are no words for ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ in Kusunda, nor are there words to signify direction. There are 23 languages with less than 1,000 speakers listed in Nepal's 2021 census, with Kusunda being the language with the least number of speakers. The number of people who identified as Kusunda has decreased with each subsequent census. Only 253 individuals identified themselves as Kusunda in the last National Census of 2021, down from 273 in 2011.&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe src="https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/raithane-bhakha/embed/episodes/Kusundas---the-last-of-the-forest-kings-e23ge6p/a-a9peei1" height="102px" width="400px" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"></iframe></div> The government’s decision to provide a social security stipend to the community for the past few years has prompted many from the Kusunda community to reclaim their identity and in the process, explore their culture and language. Kamala Sen Kusunda, who lives in Dang, is the only fluent native Kusunda speaker alive, although there are now other Kusunda and non-Kusunda people learning how to speak the language. By the time Kamala Sen Kusunda was born in 1975, her family had settled in a village in Rolpa. Although she did not experience the nomadic life of her forebears, she still roamed the forests freely as a child and many of the values and socio-cultural practices of her community were instilled in her and her siblings.&nbsp; This meant that Kamala grew up speaking Kusunda with her family. But by then, the Kusunda had increasingly begun to interact with people beyond their community, and inter-ethnic marriages had become a norm.&nbsp; Kamala herself married at 18 to a 52-year-old man from the Chhetri community. She would go on to have four children, but they were brought up with her husband’s culture and community rather than her own, and teaching them her mother tongue seemed impractical.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250628030648_afaa298bf8ea3b7086e2ed086b11eab463ef2b20a82a4aad74df3dd2e922a4c3" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="641" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Gyani Maiya Kusunda with Kusunda youth in 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  “If I had spoken my language to them when they were children, they would have learned,” she tells us ruefully. “But they were growing up in a different community, so I never pushed, and they never expressed interest.” At the time, she had other things to worry about, such as earning a livelihood and sustaining her family. To find work, Kamala and her family moved to Shimla in India, where she worked at an apple orchard for six years.&nbsp; Over the next years, Kamala and her family moved back and forth between India and Nepal for work, and Kamala was not actively conversing in the language of her people or being able to connect with members of her community now scattered across Nepal.&nbsp; Had she not forgotten her language after all those years? “How could I forget the language of my ancestors?” she replies. “Not speaking it did not mean that it ceased to be a part of me.”&nbsp; Kamala had been working at a brick kiln in Thimi seven years ago when the National Language Commission tracked her down, offered her a paid position as a Kusunda language consultant and source person for basic language training in Dang.&nbsp; It was there that Kamala met her cousin Gyani Maiya Sen Kusunda, the only other person able to speak Kusunda fluently, who had been working with the Commission to conserve Kusunda language and culture. It was also where Kamala met language researcher and lexicographer Uday Raj Ale. Ale had been in the middle of his research into the Tharu language and community 15 years ago when he met Gyani Maiya Kusunda’s son, who told him that his mother was one of the few people who spoke Kusunda, but that no one had shown an interest in studying and preserving the language and culture. Ale met Gyani Maiya, spending time with her learning and researching Kusunda. By 2017, Ale had collected enough words to put together a Kusunda dictionary. The Kusunda vocabulary currently comprises 2,000 words. His research into the Kusunda language and culture has taken him to every known Kusunda household in Nepal. Although the census puts the number of Kusunda at 253, Ale reckons there are only 158.&nbsp; “Kusunda language is endangered due to its lack of use in everyday life, literature, and religious and socio-cultural practices, as well as the prevalence of inter-ethnic marriages,” explains Ale. In 2019 the Language Commission began its language transfer programs for youth from indigenous communities. Since then, the Commission has completed multiple phases of Kusunda language classes in Dang facilitated by Uday Raj Ale. The classes have 20 students, not just from the Kusunda community, but also interested non-native students.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250626120632_c6c378bc00af450f2b7f0cf17af1c3b2b6f7b7226927c458c3e01ec389869d33" data-rendition-name="original" width="1485" height="1535" loading="lazy" alt="Kusunda NT"> <figcaption>Students learning Kusunda with instructor Uday Raj Ale (second row, left)</figcaption> </figure>  Khamba Rokaya, who worked as a caretaker for young Kusunda children in Dang, became interested in learning the language as she sat in with the children during their lessons, and for the last few years has been among the few non-native Kusunda language learners in Dang. “I am not from the Kusunda community, but now that I have learned the language, I hope to do my part to carry on the work and share my knowledge with as many people as possible,” she says. “One way to ensure that we preserve this language is to extend its speaker base, both within the Kusunda and non-native communities.” Ale and Kamala have continued to work together since Gyani Maya’s passing in 2020, expanding the Kusunda vocabulary and creating appropriate curricula to fit the needs of the students as their knowledge of Kusunda expands.&nbsp; But without any documentation of Kusunda history, the community’s traditions, stories, values and language were at risk of being lost to time. “The loss of an ethnicity, language or culture in a country is akin to losing a vital organ, and a unique perspective of looking at the world,” says Ale. Which is why Archive Nepal in collaboration with the British Council’s Cultural Protection Fund and the UK’s Department of Culture, Media, and Sport in February launched a book of creative writings in the Kusunda language titled पिन्डा (meaning ‘The First’ in Kusunda): A Compilation of Kusunda Literature. The book is a collection of informative essays about the Kusunda language and culture, short stories that explore themes from nomadic life to universal Nepali experiences of poverty and migration, letters to loved ones, as well as conversational pieces by five Kusunda students ranging from ages 16 to 30. The works in the Kusunda language are also translated into Nepali and English.&nbsp; “Language is an important part of ethnic identity, and our indigenous languages cannot evolve or be conserved unless they are spoken or taught,” said Ale during the launch of the book earlier this year. “But most importantly, language exists as long as there exists literature in that language.” Kamala was in Kathmandu for the launch of the book, and smiled proudly as she looked at the young writers who had contributed to the collection. She said: “I’m glad the young people have chosen to learn and preserve Kusunda. Otherwise, our language would have died with me.” &nbsp;

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