<figure><img width="2969" height="2370" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238619c7e80680e0c7381jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Lisa Choegyal shaking hands with Queen Elizabeth at the British Embassy in Kathmandu during the 1986 royal visit. Col Jimmy Roberts is at left. </figcaption></figure>It is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kathmandu-marks-the-yen-ya-festival/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Indra Jatra</a> in Basantapur but in Britain, the Queen is dead. Through an early September cloudburst we navigate the uneven flag-stoned narrow streets around Om Bahal.Water drips down my collar, drenched awnings hang limp and locals shelter in the shopfronts amidst an air of anticipation. Not far away, the elaborate chariots are assembled ready to parade Ganesh, Bhairava and the Kumari through Kathmandu and Hanuman Dhoka.The ancient annual outing of the living goddess is the culmination of the spectacular Indra Jatra festival attended by masked dancers, musical bands, tantric priests, devotees and foreign onlookers. It marks the end of the monsoon rain to ensure a good harvest and seeks protection from the deity Indra, the temperamental ruler of heaven.Kathmandu’s Kumari used to be royal, venerated by the Shah kings, but since the end of Nepal’s monarchy and the advent of the federal republic, it is today’s political leaders who lead the reverence in lieu of her former regal patrons.But in Britain, despite all odds, the monarchy endures. <figure><img width="2667" height="2134" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238649c7e80680e0c7382jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The sudden death of Queen Elizabeth and the transition to King Charles has rocked Britain, the Commonwealth and indeed the world over the last week. Even the Downing Street switch just two days earlier to a new Prime Minister was eclipsed by a nation engulfed with grief. We make our way through the flooded streets to sign the condolence book at the British Embassy – everyone is dressed in sombre black and President Bidya Devi Bhandari has arrived just ahead us.All over Britain, tearful throngs gather at the gates of royal palaces to express their loyalty and respect with carpets of flowers, tributes and accolades for the late Queen Elizabeth. The June Jubilee celebrating the Queen’s unprecedented 70 years on the throne have morphed into mourning.The well-rehearsed crimson and gold pomp and pageantry of the passing seamlessly swings into action. Within hours London resounds with solemn music, cannon salutes, black-ribboned trumpet volleys and tolling church bells. Crowds line the streets to observe the historic events, show solidarity with the bereaved new King, and witness ceremonies and sumptuous regalia dating back a thousand years that will consume the coming days.At aged 96 the death of Queen Elizabeth could not be unexpected, but no one seems emotionally prepared for it, so keenly felt by many who had known no other British monarch and whose reign defines a constancy woven into the fabric of many of our lives.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/queen-elizabeth-the-gurkhas-and-everest/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Queen Elizabeth, the Gurkhas and Everest</a>, Kunda DixitKathmandu newspaper headlines were unequivocal ‘The Queen Dies’, with<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/queen-elizabeth-the-gurkhas-and-everest/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> articles</a> remembering her two visits and recognising the enduring bond with the British Gurkhas in both her personal and official capacity. Nepali friends confessed to sobbing at the news.A retired Nepal army general’s eyes teared up as he told me: “She really was the most extraordinary woman who impressed the entire world and was admired by us all.” It feels good to recall incidents, recount stories, dig out photographs, find solace in collective grieving.She became Queen the year after my birth, and I was not even three years old when my mother, a lifelong royalist, hoisted me onto her shoulders in the grimy streets of post-war Newcastle to wave our little Union Jacks as she drove by on a tour of North-East England soon after her coronation. <figure><img width="780" height="577" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238689c7e80680e0c7383jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>I last saw her in person across the parade ground in the shadow of the magnificent Wren-designed Royal Hospital in Chelsea leading a full hand of all the immediate British royal family to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Gurkhas in the British Army. I was with my mother that chilly June evening in 2015 as the purpling London night sky faded above the Nepali and British participants – smart green uniforms, precision marching, wailing bagpipes and whirling khukri.  Nepali rulers have long and affectionate ties with British royal visits dating back to Jang Bahadur and Queen Victoria, and share an entwined history since the entanglements with British India that ended in 1816. Friendly relations at that time suited the preservation of Nepal’s sovereignty as well as providing much-valued recruits for the British Army.The relationship was further cemented when news of the first ascent of Mt Everest by Tenzing Norgay and New Zealander Edmund Hillary on a British expedition that buoyed Britain by arriving on the eve of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation in June 1953. Sir Ed, a Knight of the Garter, appreciated his close association with her, and in his understated Kiwi way was known to have thought the Queen was ‘a bit of all right’. <figure><img width="1464" height="965" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372386a9c7e80680e0c7384jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Queen and Prince Philip have twice visited Nepal. First was the infamous tiger hunt of 1961 hosted by King Mahendra, saluted by 376 domestic elephants, catered by Boris Lissanevitch and immortalised in the book Tiger for Breakfast.Our Tiger Tops Meghauli grass airstrip was carved out of the thick jungle, ‘coolies’ cleared insects from the royal camp and allegedly tipped buckets of water into the cistrn when the chain was pulled in the hastily constructed royal loo.But the 1961 trip can be said to have signalled the early beginnings of Nepal’s tiger conservation story. The Duke of Edinburgh, the first president of WWF, refused to hunt in order to highlight the need for conservation, pleading a diplomatically bandaged trigger finger -- little comfort to the Chitwan tigers and rhino that were shot by others in the party that day.During the second state visit 25 years later in early 1986, I and others had the chance to shake her hand in the garden of the British Embassy in Kathmandu. The emphasis was on development, diplomacy and the decades of service by the British Gurkha, with moving meetings with highly decorated veteran heroes of the ranks.The Duke of Edinburgh broke away from the main program to revisit his old hunting ground, gratifyingly now protected as Royal Chitwan National Park and South Asia’s first natural World Heritage Site. Binoculared and safari-suited, he spent a peaceful day in the Tarai jungles with then-Prince Gyanendra and joined us at <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/back-to-Chitwan,1075">Tiger Tops Jungle Lodge</a> for lunch.The new King Charles III has been in Nepal on three occasions, first representing the Queen at King Birendra’s splendid coronation in 1975 amongst many world leaders -- Imelda Marcos was observed flirting with him. King Charles returned twice to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/sons-of-the-famous,945">trek in the Annapurnas</a>, an official visit accompanied by Prince Dhirendra in 1980 and a private one with friends in 1992.Both were planned and organised by trek pioneer<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/hiking-with-jimmy/"> Col Jimmy Roberts</a>, but his walking days were over and I recced the first Royal Trek route in 1980 with Pertemba Sherpa, mountaineer and one of Mountain Travel’s star sirdars.  Then-Prince Charles strode uphill towards the silhouetted skyline tree that still bears his name near the first day lunch spot where Tiger Mountain Pokhara Lodge now stands, accompanied by a royal retinue that included security detail, radio operators and medics equipped with blood.‘The mountain views were gin clear for all four days,’ Colonel Jimmy noted with satisfaction. My task was to escort the press pack back down to file their stories. Only the murder of John Lennon knocked the Nepal story off the world’s front pages. <figure><img width="482" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372386d9c7e80680e0c7385jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="708" height="948" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/6372386f9c7e80680e0c7386jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="708" height="948" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238719c7e80680e0c7387jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>No photographs survive of the Prince’s Trek, the circuit south of Phewa Tal that we organised for the Prince of Wales’ second private trek in 1992. But I was with him in Pokhara at the British Gurkha camp for the pre-trek briefing and a jolly dinner in the mess tent hosted by the Colonel. It was a turbulent time for Charles, following the India visit where Princess Diana was famously photographed perched alone and forlorn on a marble bench in front of the Taj Mahal.The well-worn navy leather wallet engraved with the silver three feathers insignia presented to me by the Prince, sorry I mean King, is in my bag that sad morning after his mother’s death as I dodge the downpour in a festive Kathmandu Darbar Square.His long apprenticeship over, every day Charles is looking more like a king. Whilst a bereaved country gets used to new words in an old anthem, updated bank notes and other ritual changes, he faces the controversies of modernising the monarchy in a complex post-colonial world.  The Queen is dead, long live the King.Lisa Choegyal wrote the column <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/nt/opinion/so-far-so-good/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">So Far So Good</a> in Nepali Times from 2018-2020. She is a sustainable tourism specialist who has made Kathmandu her home since 1974.

Lisa Choegyal

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The Queen is Dead, Long Live the King

Sometimes, we need to take a step back to realise what a tectonic movement Nepali politics witnessed this month.
In a region and world ruled by elected authoritarians, Nepalis &nbsp;went to the ballot box freely to express a collective will for change.
These faces in this group photo of the RSP’s 180 freshly-minted MPs at the ballroom of the Royal Tulip Hotel on Wednesday is symbolic of what Nepal has come through.&nbsp;
The ship of state righted itself after the September Storm, installing an interim government that held an election within six months in which voters banished obsolete politicians and their parties into oblivion.
Nepalis, fed up with the inept kakistocracy of the past three decades, took the country into a post-ideological phase — replacing Marxists, Maoists and monarchists &nbsp;with a belief in a new governing culture that rewards delivery and accountability. And they have trusted the RSP to carry it through.
Nepal’s history has never been linear, it jerks ahead in lurches. The polity also tends to take one step forward and two steps back, so the public’s great expectations is tempered by a sense of cautious optimism and guarded pessimism.
This could be the great leap forward that Nepalis have waited for and deserve, but it could also be a Gramscian interregnum in which the old is dead and the new is not yet born. We will have to wait to see whether this transitional period will also see ‘morbid symptoms’.
As disruptor-in-chief, it was the Balendra Shah ‘wave’ or ‘craze’ that propelled the RSP to power. The former Kathmandu mayor needed a party platform, and the RSP’s tainted leader Rabi Lamichhane required a booster. Nepal's voters were looking for a saviour.
Personality-wise Shah and Lamichhane are poles apart: one is Type B and the other Type A. One is enigmatic, the other phlegmatic. But yin and yang do also tend to complement each other.&nbsp;
Kathmandu’s chattering class is already making self-fulfilling prophecies about the two falling out, and are fishing for hints that they already have. Shah’s absence from the RSP’s orientation this week was taken as a clue.&nbsp;
Closing the two-day tutorial on Wednesday, Lamichhane delivered a fiery 30-minute speech that laid out the RSP’s main agenda: to function differently from the old parties, serve the people, avoid middlemen, become true lawmakers without taking the law into their own hands.&nbsp;
“The old political parties contributed to history, we will build the future with a new political contract with citizens,” he said, trying to rise over past controversies and his abrasive rhetoric to sound statesmanlike.&nbsp;
GIVE AND TAKE
Lamichhane is said to be in touch with the reclusive Shah to announce a compact cabinet next week. Its composition will be an indication of how much give-and-take there was, and whether the criteria for selecting ministers is competence or loyalty.
Will RSP ministers behave like rulers or service providers? The new government will dive right into the economic fallout of the West Asia war with soaring fuel &nbsp;prices, inflation and uncertainty about remittance inflows.
On Thursday, Gagan Thapa resigned as NC chair, taking moral responsibility for the party’s election loss. The UML’s unrepentant K P Oli does not share the same sentiment about who is responsible for his own party’s historic downfall.&nbsp;
NCP chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who was luckier than his cross-party cohort, is now a comparative relic in a Parliament largely comprised of freshmen and sophomore lawmakers.
But the NC, UML and NCP still control provincial and most municipal governments. The old parties could try to make things difficult for the RSP at the centre, but it is also an opportunity for them to clean up their act ahead of local elections next year.&nbsp;
Another test for the RSP will be dealing with a heavily-politicised klepto-bureaucracy which has to frontend its policy decisions. &nbsp;

People’s power

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

Soon, the monsoon

This week, the RSP held a two-day closed orientation camp for its newly elected members of Parliament. The party has also decided to assign parliamentary and Cabinet roles to leaders only after the new MPs are sworn in on 28 March.&nbsp;
This means the new prime minister and his cabinet of 15 ministers are likely to be installed closer to the Nepali New Year, and the expectation is that it will also usher in a new era of governance and politics in Nepal.&nbsp;
Between now and then, there is much speculation regarding who will become new ministers and from which camp—Balendra Shah's or Rabi Lamichanne’s. Meanwhile, the final argument in the petition against the Rabi Lamichanne case revision is set for Thursday, with a verdict expected on the same day.
“In the past, parties did anything to form coalitions and to keep them from splitting ministries and appointing anyone they wanted to, even going against the spirit of the Constitution, but the RSP doesn’t need to partake in any such activities,” says political analyst Indra Adhikari.
Adhikari notes that governance failures in the past was often the result of coalition governments formed through political bargaining that meant the primary party often had to compromise on their agenda.&nbsp;
“But nothing is stopping the party from fulfilling its election manifesto,” she says. “And if they aren’t able to deliver, we know Nepalis are prone to protests, so another revolt is also a possibility.”
Journalist and author Mohan Mainali agrees that the everyday Parliamentary proceedings should go smoothly for new government because of their majority.&nbsp;
But there are questions as to what a near two-thirds majority allows the RSP to achieve in Parliament. Its 182 seats in the Lower House allows the party to enact and amend laws without hurdles and bypass Upper House’s request for Bill revisions. But the RSP has no presence in the National Assembly, and that means that its majority in the Lower House is not enough to amend the Constitution.&nbsp;
“The Constitution poses no obstacles for the RSP to work on improving governance, development and delivery,” says Mainali. &nbsp;“If they do show some performance, it will be easier for them to go into the next election and ask for a two-thirds majority to also amend the constitution,” he adds.
The last coalition government of the UML and Nepali Congress before the GenZ protests had been built upon a primary agreement to make amendments to the Constitution. So, depending on the nature of amendments, the RSP might find some support within the National Assembly at a time when some of the older parties, such as the Nepali Congress, have committed to supporting the new government as well as internal party reforms.
“What we need is a structural overhaul, from our laws and foreign policy to economy and security apparatus, and for this the RSP needs to champion collaboration and consultation for the sake of nation building,” says Indra Adhikari. “So it all comes down to the understanding and judgment of the RSP’s leadership. If they try to go at it alone, it will lead nowhere.”
To be sure, the provincial government could also clean up their act before the next local and provincial elections, which would help the older parties to regain some of their lost footing and rebuild trust.
As it stands, RSP lawmakers will also have to learn to work with each other. Mainali notes that the RSP not being bound by one clear ideology might lead to future problems, including the rumoured animosity between party president Rabi Lamichhane and prime minister-in-waiting Balendra Shah.
“Parties that came before the RSP had an ideology, whether they followed them or not, but the RSP is made of different kinds of people,” says Mainali. “If they are not motivated by a common goal of achieving something tangible in the next five years, it might be difficult for them to stay together.”
Adds Adhikari: “Balendra and Rabi don’t seem to be compatible. Rabi has already failed when it comes to the matters of governance, and Balendra won’t carry that burden. Additionally, there is a struggle between the two in terms of party hierarchy.”
Speaking at the closing of the two-day orientation, from which Balendra Shah was noticably absent, Rabi Lamichanne said that the RSP’s image as intolerant needs to be changed, and that the country is not heading towards totalitarianism but is in the hands of good, new people.
Regardless of the assurance, the general public has seen Balendra Shah and Lamichanne’s disposition in the last several years, and analysts are worried that their personalities and ambition might lead to an environment of increased intolerance.&nbsp;
As it stands in absence of a strong opposition, the responsibility falls on the media and the civil society to be the watchdog and play an effective check and balance role.&nbsp;
“Seeing how Balendra has ignored the media so far and Rabi has made inflammatory remarks in the past, they are probably more intolerant than the likes of Trump and Modi,” says Mainali. He notes that the party does not just have technical human resource and cyber army but a large number of dedicated supporters.&nbsp;
The media must thus continue to build trust by highlighting good work, educating the public on the importance of impartial journalism in democracy and debate any Bill purposed in Parliament, Mainali adds.&nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “The media should praise the government when they do well, motivate them, but it should also point out wrongdoings without fear, and provide recommendations to do better. Otherwise, absolute power corrupts absolutely, which we have seen happen happen in America with Trump and in India with Modi, where extremism has taken over and democracy has been curtailed.”

Balancing act

The sense of sight is front, centre, and everywhere else as hundreds of eyes follow visitors while they move from one painting to the next at Nikhil Bahadur Shakya’s ongoing exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Shakya has used blank canvases as well as partially-done thangka and paintings as a base for more than 50 works on display. The exhibit takes visitors beyond the physical world into a surreal spiritual realm. Shakya strips the human body down to muscle, tendon, networks of nerves, and skeleton. But all the while, eyes are a constant presence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Artist Nikhil Bahadur Shakya with a visitor.</figcaption> </figure>  The central theme is self-reflection and the journey from one’s outward to inward self, and the works offer a glimpse into the artist’s world of mindfulness.&nbsp; Shakya grew up watching his artisan grandfather design jewellery, which he says cultivated in him an interest for art. During the Covid-19 pandemic, confronted by the fragility of life and the stark reality of death, his art took an introspective turn. The paintings have splashes of neon yellow, pink, red, orange, green, and gold, and Shakya combines them with black and white to create the human body, sunflowers, geometrical shapes, and the cosmos — turning these motifs into elements of devotion and spirituality. In Wheel of Life, Shakya adds to an incomplete thangka, contrasting traditional Buddhist devotional imagery with contemporary mosaic art to create a demon holding on to a wheel with a yin and yang symbol.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Wheel of Life (centre)</figcaption> </figure>  “I wanted to reflect the elements of life and the balance of good and bad in this painting,” explains Shakya. “I took a lot of time to complete this particular piece, but it felt as though my vision flowed out of the brush onto the canvas.” The neon colours used means that visitors can see his artwork under blue light as well, giving viewers a chance to look at a single artwork from two different perspectives. His Sunflower series draws from a field of blossoms, and the eyes stare back at visitors in an almost-hypnotic gaze. In An Ancestral Visit, Shakya goes transcendental to depict the connection of living beings to their forebears.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="sunflower painting"> </figure>  “In my father’s last days, he was unwell and often unable to eat, it left his body very frail,” explains Shakya. “An Ancestral Visit was inspired by a dream in which I saw my father as his former healthy self. That dream made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors.” In another one of his works titled Devotion, a woman prays to a Shivalinga against a background of red-and-white stripes, which was inspired by the tradition of women being at the forefront during religious and spiritual ceremonies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="devotion"> <figcaption>Devotion</figcaption> </figure>  In Sunyata, which shows a skeletal figure meditating as they are surrounded by flames, Shakya captures the chaos of the outside world with peace of the inner self. Shakya was compelled to create Sunyata when he saw a monk, his body thin and face gaunt, meditating peacefully. “Many viewers might find the painting frightening, but when they take it home, I think it will give them strength whenever they feel like they need it,” says Shakya. The exhibit also includes a gigantic painting of Masan Bhairav spread across two canvases, capturing the majesty of the original work housed at Banepa’s Chandeswori Temple. Shakya met the artist who painted it, and asked to reproduce it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are another recurring motif on Shakya’s creations, which he says were inspired by mathematics textbooks from his school days. He says, “Art channels the strength of our minds and brings about change in our lives. My paintings reflect the fact that we are all made up of some madness, magic, and love.” Journey to a Visionary Artworld by Nikhil Bahadur Shakya Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Till 6 April 11AM-5PM

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