<img width="1050" height="610" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b83e69c7e80680e067762jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nearly a year after he was arrested, the ringleader of a notorious wildlife smuggling network, Kunjok Lama, has been served seven years in jail and fined Rs100,000 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-court-finds-wildlife-smuggler-guilty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">by a court in Nepal</a>.
Rasuwa District Court Judge Rajendra Nepal handed the order this week after his bench of justice convicted Lama on 25 April.
<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wildlife-smuggler-caught-in-kathmandu-after-15-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kunjok Lama</a>, real name Kunjok Tsering Tamang, was lodged in Rasuwa District Jail following a district court order. He was accused of smuggling endangered wildlife parts, including tiger and leopard pelt and bone from India, through Nepal to China.
After the Criminal Code came into force in 2018, in cases that would serve more than three years, the court has to decide whether a person convicted of a criminal offense is guilty or not. If found guilty, a separate hearing is held within a month to determine the sentence period.
Lama’s name appeared in all major seizures of wildlife parts in Nepal and India and he had been in the crosshairs of law enforcers in both the countries as well as Interpol, which had issued a red corner notice until the Central Investigation Bureau (CIB) of Nepal Police arrested him from Kathmandu last June.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepals-conservation-heroes/">Remembering Nepal’s conservation heroes</a>, Ghana Gurung
Since his arrest, Lama’s lawyers have been trying to get all three levels of Nepal’s court system to rule in his favour. First, they accused the CIB of trying to frame him and claimed that the ‘Kunjok Lama’ named in the 2005 seizure was not him as he was illiterate and could not have written any of the incriminating documents.
He reiterated the same claim in both the Rasuwa District Court's remand trial and the final settlement of the case.
Lama then filed a petition in the Patan High Court seeking a stay on the date after the Rasuwa District Court remanded him in custody for trial. The high court also refused to release him.
Lama’s lawyer then took a habeas corpus petition to the Supreme Court, claiming that he had been detained illegally. However, Supreme Court Justices Ananda Mohan Bhattarai and Kumar Regmi also refused to release him.
His detention was ruled not illegal by the Supreme Court, which also left the verdict in the hand of the Rasuwa Court which was assessing the evidence as to whether he was the same person as the one accused.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/unsung-heroes-of-nepals-tiger-recovery/">Unsung heroes of Nepal’s tiger recovery</a>, Smriti Dahal
Nepal has received international acclaim for its <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">success in wildlife conservation</a>. Most recently, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-many-tigers-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">in 2018</a>, it became the first tiger range country to double the number of its big cats.
But the Himalayan nation is on the traditional route for wildlife smuggling from India to China, and traffickers use it to smuggle tiger parts, among other wildlife contraband items.
Oftentimes, convicted ringleaders of these smuggling networks <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lax-laws-make-nepal-haven-for-tiger-poachers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">buy their way out of freedom</a>, get light sentences or jump nominal bail using political connection and rampant corruption in the legal system.
Lama’s sentence, however, sets a precedent for future wildlife crime cases.
For their years of investigation leading to the arrest of Lama, Sudarshan Panthee and Birendra Singh Johari of the CIB were given the United Nations Environment Program Asia Enforcement Award earlier this year.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepals-tigers/">Villagers step up to protect Nepal’s tigers</a>, Teri D Allendorf

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Tiger poacher gets 7 years jail

<img width="1050" height="610" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636cec089c7e80680e09ad3fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nearly a year after he was arrested, the ringleader of a notorious wildlife smuggling network, Kunjok Lama, has been served seven years in jail and fined Rs100,000 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-court-finds-wildlife-smuggler-guilty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">by a court in Nepal</a>.
Rasuwa District Court Judge Rajendra Nepal handed the order this week after his bench of justice convicted Lama on 25 April.
<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/wildlife-smuggler-caught-in-kathmandu-after-15-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kunjok Lama</a>, real name Kunjok Tsering Tamang, was lodged in Rasuwa District Jail following a district court order. He was accused of smuggling endangered wildlife parts, including tiger and leopard pelt and bone from India, through Nepal to China.
After the Criminal Code came into force in 2018, in cases that would serve more than three years, the court has to decide whether a person convicted of a criminal offense is guilty or not. If found guilty, a separate hearing is held within a month to determine the sentence period.
Lama’s name appeared in all major seizures of wildlife parts in Nepal and India and he had been in the crosshairs of law enforcers in both the countries as well as Interpol, which had issued a red corner notice until the Central Investigation Bureau (CIB) of Nepal Police arrested him from Kathmandu last June.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-nepals-conservation-heroes/">Remembering Nepal’s conservation heroes</a>, Ghana Gurung
Since his arrest, Lama’s lawyers have been trying to get all three levels of Nepal’s court system to rule in his favour. First, they accused the CIB of trying to frame him and claimed that the ‘Kunjok Lama’ named in the 2005 seizure was not him as he was illiterate and could not have written any of the incriminating documents.
He reiterated the same claim in both the Rasuwa District Court's remand trial and the final settlement of the case.
Lama then filed a petition in the Patan High Court seeking a stay on the date after the Rasuwa District Court remanded him in custody for trial. The high court also refused to release him.
Lama’s lawyer then took a habeas corpus petition to the Supreme Court, claiming that he had been detained illegally. However, Supreme Court Justices Ananda Mohan Bhattarai and Kumar Regmi also refused to release him.
His detention was ruled not illegal by the Supreme Court, which also left the verdict in the hand of the Rasuwa Court which was assessing the evidence as to whether he was the same person as the one accused.
<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/unsung-heroes-of-nepals-tiger-recovery/">Unsung heroes of Nepal’s tiger recovery</a>, Smriti Dahal
Nepal has received international acclaim for its <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-jungle-out-there/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">success in wildlife conservation</a>. Most recently, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-many-tigers-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">in 2018</a>, it became the first tiger range country to double the number of its big cats.
But the Himalayan nation is on the traditional route for wildlife smuggling from India to China, and traffickers use it to smuggle tiger parts, among other wildlife contraband items.
Oftentimes, convicted ringleaders of these smuggling networks <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lax-laws-make-nepal-haven-for-tiger-poachers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">buy their way out of freedom</a>, get light sentences or jump nominal bail using political connection and rampant corruption in the legal system.
Lama’s sentence, however, sets a precedent for future wildlife crime cases.
For their years of investigation leading to the arrest of Lama, Sudarshan Panthee and Birendra Singh Johari of the CIB were given the United Nations Environment Program Asia Enforcement Award earlier this year.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepals-tigers/">Villagers step up to protect Nepal’s tigers</a>, Teri D Allendorf

<figure><img width="1404" height="952" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181120/636be1a69c7e80680e083e5ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>The Dum Dum Central Correctional Home in Kolkata where Dipak Jays has spent the last 15 years of his 40 year incarceration without trial.</figcaption></figure>The mother of a Nepali man who has been languishing in a Kolkata jail without trial for the past 40 years has finally found out his whereabouts after efforts by journalists, lawyers and even amateur ham radio enthusiasts in India and Nepal. Dipak Jaisi had been arrested in 1981 in Darjeeling and was moved to Dumdum Central Correctional Home near Kolkata 15 years ago, where a fire destroyed all records of inmates. <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/120334" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/120334&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605795110624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH_CM6fwmKzvItT60S-NZ4ns43VSQ">Himal Khabarpatrika reported Jaisi’s story</a> on 10 November, said that there were no records of whether he had family in Nepal, and whether they knew what had become of him. Within a week of the story appearing online, Jaisi’s family in Mai Municipality of Ilam district in eastern Nepal read it and came forward.Family members contacted the magazine on Tuesday and said that Dipak’s real name was Dupta Prasad Timsina, and he had gone to Darjeeling in 1981 and had not been heard from since. It is now known that Dipak has a 81-year-old mother Dhanmaya, two younger brothers and two sisters. His father Champakhar Timsina is dead. His nephew Dilnath Phuyal is principal of Mahendra Ratna Campus in Ilam. Dilnath was doing his PhD in Kolkata in 2008 when he heard that his uncle was in a jail there, but although he looked for him there were no leads. Last year, a Darjeeling based lawyer Gunjan Sherpa had found out about Dipak’s whereabouts and told the family about him.“We are happy that he has been found, and now we will try to get him released and bring my uncle home,” said Dilnath Phuyal. <figure><img width="898" height="1052" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181120/636be1a99c7e80680e083e5fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dipak Jaisi’s 81-year-old mother Dhanmaya Timsina was finally traced to a town in Ilam this week.</figcaption></figure>Dipak Jaisi, who is now about 62, left his home in Ilam to find work in Darjeeling, but was arrested for an unknown crime. No one bothered to take the court process forward, he was left in jail in Darjeeling and later for some reason was transferred to Kolkata. Meanwhile, Dipak’s family had moved to another town in Ilam, and his efforts to reach them failed.The story only came out when Dipak’s fellow inmate Radheshyam Das was released from the same detention facility in Dum Dum, and he told lawyers in Kolkata about a Nepali man in jail without trial. Das had first informed the Nepal Consulate in Kolkata about Dipak, but says the mission did not show any interest.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18621" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Guilty until proven innocent</a>, Kunda Dixit<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">From Chitwan to Chiyoda</a>, Kunda DixitThen he approached ham radio operators at the West Bengal Radio Club which uses shortwave radio communications during disasters for information and relief. The Club’s Ambarish Das Biswas contacted ham radio contacts in Nepal, and then wrote to Nepal’s former Okhaldhunga High Court judge Bidur Bikram Thapa on 31 October to see if he could help trace Dipak’s family.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjeCc3WuYMY&amp;feature=emb_logoThapa then initiated a process through his colleagues in the Indian judicial system to file a writ of habeas corpus in West Bengal to get Dipak home. Last week, Biswas met Dipak in jail, but kept getting the name of the town in Ilam where his parents earlier lived, and that drew a blank when local authorities looked for them. “The Nepali Consulate in Kolkata knew about a citizen in jail, but did nothing,” Thapa said. “Why do we have a consulate at all? After all, we were not asking them to release Dipak, just to help find his family.”'<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/07/16/insallah/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">'Insallah''</a>, From the Nepali Press<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2011/07/21/justice-for-govinda/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Justice for Govinda</a>, Kunda DixitKolkata lawyer Hirak Singh finally met Dipak twice last week, it was revealed that he might have been arrested on a murder charge. However, there are no documents to prove this since all evidence was destroyed in the fire. Singh is now trying to get jail records from Darjeeling.Ilam-based writer Kedar Sharma played a major role in finally tracing Dipak’s family in Mai Municipality after tracking them from their earlier domicile. In Kolkata, Consul General Ishwar Raj Poudel said: “The mission is moving to meet Dipak in jail and get him released and send him home.”Hirak Singh says years of incarceration have affected Dipak mentally, and he speculates that the reason he was not brought to trial could be because he was deemed to be of unsound mind. Singh is waiting for the papers to arrive from Darjeeling and move the high court for his release and eventual return to Nepal.A long version of this story in Nepali is available at <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://himalkhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605795110624000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYsCN2oQyVO6RrFKr3xArp6g3Ceg">himalkhabar.com</a>

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Nepali jailed 40 years without trial in Kolkata

<figure><img width="1500" height="990" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a655c9c7e80680e059925jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Alam gagged by police officer. Photo: SUVRA KANTI DAS</figcaption></figure>On Day of the Imprisoned Writer 2018, Indian author <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/arundhati-and-shahidul-write-to-each-other/">Arundhati Roy penned an open letter to Shahidul Alam</a>, the renowned Bangladeshi photojournalist who had been incarcerated for over 100 days. ‘Dear Shahidul,’ Roy wrote, ‘I believe the tide will turn. It will. It must. This foolish, shortsighted cruelty will give way to something kinder and more visionary.’Shahidul Alam replies in his book, The Tide Will Turn, a photography and text collection lovingly named after Roy’s letter. Combining sketches from fellow inmates, historical work by Bangladeshi photographers, reflections and political commentary, The Tide Will Turn does more than document Alam’s time in jail and his views: it serves as a curated collection of political art and writing, acting as a critique of autocracy.Alam was arrested and detained on 5 August 2018, shortly after a televised Al-Jazeera interview where he criticised Bangladesh's Sheikh Hasina government for its response to protests by young students demanding road safety. The months after saw a worldwide campaign for his release with mass exhibitions, petitions, demonstrations and letters from prominent figures. <figure><img width="1698" height="1254" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a65609c7e80680e059926jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In Nepal, journalists and students <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/freeshahidulalam/">protested in front of the Bangladesh Embassy</a> in Kathmandu and lit up the city’s walls with projections of quotes and photographs by Alam during the visit to the Nepal capital by Sheikh Hasina for a South Asian leaders’ summit.Alam, still imprisoned, was awarded the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-photo-kathmandu-award/">Photo Kathmandu Award of Excellence</a> on 26 October 2018, both to celebrate the immense impact he has had on generations of Nepali journalists and photographers and as a clear sign of solidarity with one of South Asia’s most prominent photojournalists.‘There is a Bangla saying – “Apnake dhonnobad janie choto korbo na” (I will not belittle you by thanking you),’ Alam writes in his preface. ‘This book is my way of making amends.’Alam dedicates the first part to the prisoners in Keraniganj Jail in Dhaka. Without a camera to document his stay, he uses vivid writing to capture images of his detainment: the surroundings, the guards, his inmates and their stories, and the sparrows he made friends with.The chapter also includes notes, sketches, a mural and even a radio made by inmates who were concerned that Alam ‘a journalist, did not have access to news’. The chapter can almost be read as a standalone, a poignant reflection on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/shahidul-alam-100th-day-in-jail/">his 107-day incarceration</a>.The longest section of the book provides a detailed historical commentary on Bengali photography, touching on artists who have captured some of the most striking images to come out of Bangladesh, as well as on Alam’s own work. It includes one of his earliest series, which focuses on former sex worker Hazera Beagum.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a65639c7e80680e059927jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="978">When Shahidul Alam first met Hazera Beagum in 1996, she was a sex worker. Beagum at her orphanage in Adabor Market in Dhaka in December 2014 (pictured right). Photos: SHAHIDUL ALAM<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a65669c7e80680e059928jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1185" height="1140">The photographs show Beagum first in 1996 and then in 2014, now running her own orphanage and ensuring that all her children receive an education. With photospreads of select iconic images, the chapter also makes for a stunning collection of Bangladeshi art over a century.The third section of The Tide Will Turn centres entirely on Bangladeshi politics. Alam uses the 1971 Liberation War as a starting point to discuss identity, secularism and the failures of the government, detailing his own experience with the 2013 Dhaka garment factory collapse and the killing of Bangladeshi-American secular blogger Avijit Roy. There is an underlying critique of autocracy running through the book, but it is this chapter that really reveals to us <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/">Alam’s commitment to free speech and democracy</a>.The Tide Will Turn is best summed up by Alam himself in his letter to Arundhati Roy: ‘The tide will turn, and the nameless, faceless people will rise. They will rise against the entire state machinery.’ This deep conviction that underlies his stunning photography makes for a book that leaves readers with much to ponder.The Tide Will TurnShahidul AlamGöttingen, Germany, Steidl, 2019184 pages, 111 images, Hardback€ 28.00ISBN: 978-3-95829-693-0www.steidl.de<a href="https://steidl.de/Books/The-Tide-Will-Turn-1224303445.html"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108151116/636a656a9c7e80680e059929jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2328" height="3030"></a>

A photojournalist's powerful portrait from prison

Himal Khabarpatrika, 11-18 NovemberAs many as 898 foreigners are currently serving time in Nepal’s prisons, according to the latest data released by the Department of Prison Management.Not surprisingly, an overwhelming majority of foreign prisoners are Indians. Nepal shares a long and porous border with two of India’s poorest states with high crime rates. So it comes as no surprise when one finds out that three in every four foreign prisoners doing time in Nepal are from India.Of the 682 Indian prisoners languishing in jails in Nepal, 41 are women. Foreigners are serving jail terms in Nepal mainly for drug peddling, kidnapping, rapes, human trafficking, murder, cheating, wildlife poaching and IT fraud. Indians outnumber other foreigners in almost every crime except visa overstay, bank fraud, counterfeit currency and child abuse.What is interesting is that the second highest number of foreigners in detention are from Bhutan, a tiny Himalayan kingdom with which Nepal has restrained people-to-people ties. But what could explain this is a large number of Bhutanese refugees languishing in eastern Nepal for the last three decades. Although over 100,000 refugees from Bhutan have been taken to the US, Australia, Canada and other countries, some 6,000 refugees are still in Nepal.After nationals from Bhutan (70), Bangladesh (47) and Pakistan (21) are number three and four on the list of foreign prisoners in Nepal. Only 76 foreign prisoners are from outside these four South Asian countries. Foreign prisoners from outside the region are in single digits, except China (10), but this figure also includes Tibetans.As many as 19 foreign prisoners are from Africa, and 15 are from Europe, including the notorious French ‘Bikini Killer’ Charles Sobharaj. There is only 1 American.The higher number of foreign prisoners is lodged in Jagannath Deval jail in Kathmandu (108). Most of them have been slapped with jail terms of more than five years.

Foreigners in Nepal’s prisons

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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Sacred seed feeds boom

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