<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc489c7e80680e08bc14jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="452"/><figcaption>A narrow ridge that served as a helipad in Kalikot district back in 2004 when the Maoist War was on its peak. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Twenty-five years after the Maoist insurgency started on 13 February 1996, journalists who covered that war remember their own experiences reporting on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the conflict</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4b9c7e80680e08bc15jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>One of the many ruins left behind by a decade long Maoist War 1996-2006.</figcaption></figure>Shivering with fearWe reached Pandusen of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15778#.YCx9Si2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bajura district</a> in September 2003. Men were ploughing a terrace with two oxen and sowing wheat. We took out our camera and tripod. But when the men saw us, they fled. Later one of them told us, “We are afraid of strangers. We thought you were soldiers.” He told us the army had come through and killed six people in the village, including Padam Bahadur Shahi.At Padam Bahadur’s house, relatives were in mourning. “He had gone to harvest paddy, he had done nothing wrong, ” his mother Koila told us, weeping. “They brought him here and hit him with rocks.”Padam’s father Gorakh Bahadur said the soldiers even kicked their baby grandson, injuring him. “They led my son away and I followed,” he told us. “They were beating him all the way, his teeth were scattered across the road, he was bleeding.”We climbed up the trail to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2027#.YCx9Ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Martadi</a>. Within half-an-hour we were at Ramlal Damai’s house. He had been killed with a bullet in his head, and his relatives were wailing as they removed his body from the house. Further up in the village of Angaupani, we came across a whole village in mourning for six men who had been killed by soldiers the previous day.We reached Kolti airfield where 12 police had recently been killed. Nearby, the army had killed another 10 villagers accusing them of being Maoists. A couple was in shock after their children aged 10 and five were killed after a Maoist pipe bomb they found in the forest exploded. All around us there was nothing but death and destruction.A year later, I went to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-battered-future,3218" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kailali</a> and Bardia which had the highest number of disappeared during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflict</a>. Their relatives are still waiting for truth and justice.In war, people take to guns. But ultimately it is the gun that takes people away.Mohan Mainali<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4e9c7e80680e08bc16jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="669"><figcaption>A father trying to stop his young son who had decided to join the Maoists. Khotang 2004.</figcaption></figure>Families torn apartIn February 2000, we travelled to the Maoist heartland of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12393#.YCx-nC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6164#.YCx-vC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2928#.YCx-yC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jajarkot</a>. Along the way, we noticed police sentry posts located on treetops for safety. The policemen were playing carom with guns slung on their shoulders. We knew we were entering a war zone. In Libang, we visited Maoist prisoners in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a> district jail. They spoke about being innocent, framed and tortured by the police. We interviewed a Maoist leader, Lokendra Bista. He told us the revolution was actually in response to state violence, but he said the resolution of the conflict was only possible through dialogue, not through violence.In Khalanga of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=328#.YCx-ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a>, there was also a lot of fear. Many who had been driven out or tortured by the Maoists had fled to the district headquarters for safety. We came across children cooking by themselves. One 11-year-old was kneading dough, but he wept as he told us: “The police killed our father and mother, I feel like drinking the blood from their hearts.”Four years later, we went to eastern Nepal. By this time, the army had joined <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.YCx-lC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> and Maoist influence had spread throughout the country. One indelible memory of that time was the farewell of a distraught father in Chisapani of Khotang for his ninth grader student son, Kiran Bista.In the video, the father clutches the boy’s legs and does not want to let go. The boy tries to placate his father: “Don’t do this, Dad. My friends all have fathers. We are all going to war, please don’t do this.”A confident speaker, Kiran later told us later on camera: “I am joining out of my own free will because I have understood that we have to fight for our country.”When we got to Mugu, local Maoists detained us for 22 hours. But it was not till we got to Mudbara of Doti that we found out just how badly the war had affected children. The army had attacked a school in September 2004 after they found out the Maoists had gone there to recruit. Six of the Maoists were killed, but so were four students.“I didn’t even know I had been hit, I was unconscious when they took me to hospital,” said one student Dharma Bhurtel. Her mother, Krishna Maya, broke down as she told us of the pain at seeing her only daughter wounded.Bishnu Prasad was hiding inside a classroom with other students, when soldiers kicked the door in and started shooting. He was hit, and paralysed. “I like to go to school, but I cannot walk now.”Teachers were on the frontlines of the war, and nearly 220 of them were killed by both sides. “After the war started, we were caught in the crossfire. Whichever side fires the guns it is us teachers who get killed,” Ram Bahadur Raut principal of the Chisapani Secondary School in Khotang told us then.Dhruba Basnet<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc529c7e80680e08bc17jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="518"><figcaption>Many Maoist cadre associated carrying guns with being powerful and empowered.</figcaption></figure>Power of the gun<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12319#.YCx_3C2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Children</a> would follow us everywhere. They were very loyal to the Maoist party. Even 10-year-old <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13190#.YCx_5i2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">children</a> had been so effectively brainwashed that they would speak in Maoist jargon, saying “When the revolution is successful, we will be also be rich and powerful.” And they believed it.We went to homes, and heard families talk about the fear of both the police and guerrillas. The Maoists had ordered every household to contribute at least one person to attend their revolutionary meetings and listen to speeches. We attended those cultural programs, as well. The Maoists cadre were full of enthusiasm and energy, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=bead8272edd0f2143&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/still-singing-and-dancing/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiYw6ix8O_uAhUy83MBHRiACWYQFjAAegQIBhAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw06kcWD1ctXQGTrve9YQNmE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">singing and performing revolutionary dances</a> about the liberation of the proletariat. Villagers watched with interest, but there was fear in their eyes.The armed Maoists looked like they were really empowered. I asked some of them how it felt to be carrying a gun? They used to reply: “I feel powerful, now no one can do anything to me.”Amrita Lamsalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzHLTaNnSDo&amp;feature=youtu.beThe smell of fearIn October 2004, we took a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1890#.YCybTI8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">helicopter from Surkhet to Kalikot</a>, flying over the mountains of Dailekh and the Karnali River. On the left we could see Kotbada, where a year previously the Royal Nepal Army had <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/02/13/tears-of-joy-and-sorrow-in-kalikot/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">killed 36 workers building an airfield</a>, mistaking them to be Maoist guerrillas. We were in the heart of the conflict zone to understand how the war was affecting ordinary people in the Karnali.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_219.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kalikot was remote then</a>, as the highway was still being built. At the end of the first day’s walk in Pili, we saw small children slither down from tree tops and scamper off to the village. We found out they were Maoist ‘wholetimers’ on sentry duty.The local Maoists held a village gathering that evening and paraded us on the stage, accusing us of being military spies and “royal mongrels”. The language they used during interrogation that night was straight out of the Khmer Rouge. Two years later, 55 soldiers were killed in a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=721#.YCyBmi2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist attack in Pili</a>.Finally let off the next day, we were detained again in Jubitha by 12-13 year-olds with guns. They could not read, and held our press passes upside down. “We are now in the armed struggle phase of our revolution,” said one youngster.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc559c7e80680e08bc18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>Comrade Mukti in Kalikot in 2004.</figcaption></figure>Along the trail, we passed a group of women guerrillas who gave us red salutes and gripped us in firm handshakes. It was a surprise to see such empowered young women in what was at that time, a part of western Nepal most steeped in patriarchy.As we got closer to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/No-peace,432" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jumla</a> amidst the spectacular scenery of golden terraces of ripening paddy, the blue-green Tila River and the snow-capped Kanjiroba in the distance, there were signs of war damage. Ruins of destroyed homes, charred buildings, empty silent streets. There was no laughter from children, they peered at us from behind upstairs windows, no one talked to strangers. You could smell the fear in the air.Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc589c7e80680e08bc19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="362"><figcaption>Baburam Tamang, one of the 18 Maoist cadre massacred in Ramechap in 2003.</figcaption></figure>The National Human Rights Commission was sending a team to investigate the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4639#.YCylnY8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">massacre of 18 Maoist cadre in Doramba</a> of Ramechhap on 17 August 2003. It included former Chief Justice Krishna Jung Rayamajhi, former Attorney General Bhim Bahadur Bista, forensic physician Harihar Awasti, advocate Hari Phuyal and myself. We reached Doramba 11 days after the killings and found the fresh graves.Local Maoists had gathered at the home of Yubaraj Moktan. The army encircled the house, and those who could, escaped. The others were rounded up, and were led off up towards the Sailung forest with hands tied behind their backs. The army unit was led by Major Ram Mani Pokhrel. Down in the village, people heard calls for help, and then gunshots.The villagers helped us exhume the bodies, and Harihar Awasti went down to examine them one by one. He would dictate the details, which I noted down and shared with Hari Phuyal. The stench of rotting bodies was overpowering. Villagers would recognise the faces, and point to them, saying: “That is Bishnu Maya. That is Lila.” Most had been shot at point blank range in the forehead.A young man handed me a 35mm film roll. We developed it, and found images of the bodies had been thrown over the edge after being killed. And there was a photograph of a local man named <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18623" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Baburam Tamang</a>, the only one without a gunshot in the forehead, but in the arm. It looked like he had bled to death.Villagers told us that night they had heard someone up the mountain call out for help “Ama, ama.” But they were too afraid to go up and check. We think it was a dying Baburam Tamang.The villagers had later buried the bodies, wrapping them in cloth and flag. Nearby was a pile of half-burnt personal effects of those who had been killed. Among them, I found a notepad belonging to Bishnu Maya Thapa Magar, one of those who had been killed.Kanak Mani Dixit

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From the frontlines of Nepal’s war

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b24b0ad905ca02f027jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b54b0ad905ca02f028jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0b74b0ad905ca02f029jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0ba4b0ad905ca02f02ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bd4b0ad905ca02f02bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf0bf4b0ad905ca02f02cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

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Journalists reflect on a year of crisis coverage

<figure><img width="1280" height="960" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cc9c7e80680e0878dejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Bhawana Gurung interviews a resident of Matatirtha in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>The first person infected with SARS-CoV-2 was in Wuhan as far back as December 2019, but it was not until late January that there was international concern, and it was finally declared a pandemic in February. In the thick of it was Nepali journalist Bibek Bhandari, working at Shanghai-based <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyXl1wLmco9a86gmJVpF_TG2dDuA">Sixth Tone</a> as news editor. “My last day in the office was on 23 January before the weeklong Lunar New Year holiday,” Bhandari recalls. “It was cold and drizzling when I left work that evening. We had already been <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%28jan.-16-31%29" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1005221/coronavirus-latest-updates-%2528jan.-16-31%2529&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEGDCAT1cN1u7we7DEoWZxGZhE3YA">writing</a> extensively about the novel coronavirus, and the holidays were grim.”   Shanghai was not just deserted, but there was an air of despair and fear hanging over the city. Bhandari and his colleagues covering the holiday shift were told to work from home. “We were all living in the unknown, trying to figure out what the news the next day would bring,” says Bhandari, who flew to Nepal in February and was supposed to go back on 31 March. By then, Nepal was in lockdown and all flights halted. He was stuck in Kathmandu till September. In Nepal itself, journalists were also forced to adapt. Bhawana Gurung and Asha Thapa decided to use the lockdown period to start a podcast from their home to disseminate health information. “As soon as we heard about Covid-19, we felt there was a gap in lifesaving information. We thought a podcast would be an effective medium,” says Gurung who runs <a href="https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://anchor.fm/sankatma-sathi&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExmzRbJyWJMVvPu39tfjXv-XZbog">Sankatma Sathi</a> with Thapa, about safety during the pandemic. <figure><img width="963" height="722" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9cf9c7e80680e0878dfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We recorded our first episode in bed, on the phone,” laughs Thapa, who spent the first five months of the lockdown at her home in Matatirtha, producing stories from her neighbourhood. The podcast, targeted at a rural Nepali audience, was soon hooked up by 20 community radio stations.But working from home comes with its own challenges. “In the beginning it was fun because I could work from bed, but eventually, you’re always staring at your four walls, especially if you live alone,” says Gurung.In India, however, the opposite was true for Hashim (who goes by his first name), a journalist with <a href="https://dataleads.co.in/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dataleads.co.in/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHWX9flIbBzzIG0b3gNLrxg9ownXQ">Data Leads</a> in New Delhi. He says, “Everyone is not privileged. If you’re living in a one-BHK (one bedroom, hall and kitchen) apartment in Noida with six family members, it can be challenging.”Hashim was also filming tutorials for journalists on reporting from home, which required him to turn his home into a makeshift studio. “You’re constantly asking everyone to quiet down during recordings and online meetings. It can take a toll on your family,” he says. “And if you’re freelancing, it is hard to sell a story without the Covid angle.”In India, <a href="https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ha-asia.com/covering-and-surviving-covid-19-in-india/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE1T2XsUnR47IkDsTlxMN6AkMxMKw">44 journalists died</a> due to the virus, which made Hashim himself aware of his own mortality. He has not left his Delhi neighbourhood for six months as he continues to mine data for journalistic videos from home, while skipping to stay fit. “I’m exercising for the first time in my life,” he says on WhatsApp. <figure><img width="1080" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d29c7e80680e0878e0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Locked away in his apartment in Kuala Lumpur for four months, Bhutanese journalist Jigmey Thinley was running up and down the stairs of his condo as the gym was closed. He was working for the <a href="https://aibd.org.my/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://aibd.org.my/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYZIvhgqXDRLEZbWWd_awIgE82kw">Asia-Pacific Institute for Broadcasting Development</a> in Malaysia when the pandemic hit, and decided it was time to head home.He arrived home in Thimphu in September, as Bhutan relaxed the lockdown temporarily.  But as a new <a href="https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.livemint.com/news/india/seven-day-nationwide-lockdown-in-bhutan-from-today-11608681983042.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGfDWnon-gRAhWKMIOFjKr9j0iEkQ">national lockdown</a> came into effect in Bhutan on 23 December in response to a second wave, Thinley and his colleagues found that they could no longer go home after work. <figure><img width="1080" height="972" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d59c7e80680e0878e1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“We stay at the office these days. We all brought our own bedding. We’ve turned our offices into working rooms-cum-bedrooms,” says Thinley, now General Manager of News and Current Affairs at <a href="http://www.bbs.bt/news/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bbs.bt/news/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHuI5qlLZdFiy7Hx0yYyi9rPfibsA">Bhutan Broadcasting Service</a>.Logistic adjustments have been a universal experience for journalists elsewhere in Asia in 2020. Ruth Cabal works for CNN in Manila and had to manage from a temporary studio at home in the initial days of reporting COVID-19.“I live with my brother so he set up the camera with my phone and all,” says Cabal. “My Viber app served as the teleprompter because the scripts from the producer would be posted there.”Also a professor at the University of Philippines, Cabal says her broadcasts were punctuated by signal hiccups. She also had to do her own make-up while broadcasting from home and the coffees that constantly accompanied her in the live studio, was missing. <figure><img width="1231" height="998" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9d79c7e80680e0878e2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But the media industry has adapted well to the situation, she says, “When there’s a typhoon, a civilian stays away, but the opposite is true for journalists. We go to where the typhoon is supposed to make landfall. These are the kind of events journalists are trained for.” The ‘infodemic’ and disinformation that accompanied the pandemic have been other major challenges for the media industry, as online time went up globally.“During the lockdown, getting access to information is difficult. While we focus on the pandemic, there are many other, equally important issues that we could miss out on,” says Bhutan’s Jigmey Thinley.Which is why the pandemic has made the job of journalists all the more important, Ruth Cabal says, adding: “It is up to journalists to properly vet information and be aggressive in trying to interview the right people to give accurate information.”While the medium they work in may be different, journalists across Asia have been driving towards the same goal: sharing information that brings relief and hope to the public, sometimes at the cost of their own psychological and physical wellbeing. “It’s probably one of the biggest stories of our times globally. This means that a lot of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/pandemic-stress-grips-nepals-journalists/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1609221912718000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFgQL8nmcwYjAtPBYpKqk6ZDX7pg">journalists</a> may have had to work relentlessly and with limited resources. We’ve heard stories about burnouts and then some pretty disheartening news about the layoffs,” says Bibek Bhandari, the Nepali journalist in Shanghai.Even with all the challenges, those doing crisis coverage have tried to find comfort in their vocation.“We did a lot of learning and creating together with colleagues, who went on to become good friends by the end of lockdown,” says podcaster Bhawana Gurung. “It’s been a year of tracing common grounds to heal — for our audience as well as for ourselves.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636be9da9c7e80680e0878e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1000">Shanghai-based journalist Bibek Bhandari.

<figure><img width="1400" height="1031" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904bc9c7e80680e037d3djpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>UNDERPASS: It looks like you forgot that there is now a new law that forbids disclosure of the private information of public officials. Vatsyayan in Kantipur, 25 August</figcaption></figure>It has only been two weeks since Nepal’s new Penal Code criminalised photography (Section 295), slapped heavy fines and jail terms for recording conversations (Section 293), and announced strict punishment for sending, receiving or using online data (Section 298). Another privacy-related bill in Parliament will prohibit people from publishing personal information of public officials. But it has already had a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/suppressed/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chilling effect across the Nepali media</a>.A person who ridiculed the prime minister on Facebook was tracked down and arrested for photo-manipulating the prime minister's photo, which violates Section 295 of the Code. Editors of Nagarik, Annapurna Post and Kantipur were summoned to the Press Council for interrogation.Photojournalist Usha Titikshu was taking a photo of a damaged CCTV camera at an airport recently, when she was stopped. “Don’t you know the new rules about not taking photos?” she was warned.If enacted earlier, the new laws would have forced editors to spike their recent investigative reports on the Chief Justice’s doctored certificates, photos showing collusion between top politicians and medical college owners, and stories of corruption in high places.The Federation of Nepalese Journalists last week issued its Godavari Declaration demanding that the provisions be immediately rescinded. The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Reporters without Borders (RSF) and others <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/amend-criminal-code-rsf/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">all condemned the move</a>, demanding that Nepal adhere to the international standards and principles of freedom of expression.Although the constitution guarantees press freedom as an inviolable right, the laws try to enforce constitutional provisions protecting a citizen’s right to privacy more strictly, even extending it to public figures.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/strongman-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Strongman rule</a>, Om Astha RaiPress adviser to the prime minister and former editor Kundan Aryal admits that a free press is important, but says the Nepali media has failed to self-regulate."Journalists do not rein themselves in, they feel free to make derogatory comments, especially about women. It is necessary to regulate the press,” he told Nepali Times. Such talk has already had a dampening effect, with editors and reporters now more wary of publishing information in the public interest. The fear is that the laws are so broadly defined and open to interpretation, anyone can be hauled over for anything.The crackdowns started coming thick and fast after the Nepal Communist Party government was elected to power in January: it consolidated the surveillance arms of the state in the PMO, proposed restrictions on advocacy through the National Integrity Policy, and banned popular areas for protest. Photographer Chandra Ale of Onlinekhabar recently faced questions when he was at Kalimati vegetable market where traders had locked up government inspectors. “A person asked me if I had permission to take photos. He followed me, and forced me to delete my pictures,” Ale relates.Photojournalist Usha Titikshu thinks there is a systematic plan to gag the media. “Threats to journalists are more common across South Asia, and we have not connected the dots to see that the same is happening in Nepal,” says Titikshu, citing the rape and deaths of journalists in India and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-death-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the arrest of noted Bangladeshi photographer Shahidul Alam</a> who is being mistreated in jail. “We see our own government moving towards similar intolerance in Nepal.”Ujjwal Acharya, South Asia coordinator of IFJ and digital media watcher says: “Today one thinks twice before posting anything on social media. By the looks of it, the government intends to curtail all kinds of expression, especially investigative journalism.”Says Nagarik editor Gunaraj Luintel who answered an unprecedented summon from the Press Council: “It was overstepping its mandate, even asking me to explain a mistake in print to the parties involved. The council is only supposed to promote ethical journalism, but it has become an arm of the government. The aim is to increase censorship in a planned way.”Narayan Wagle, editor of Kantipur, was also summoned by the Press Council for the first time in his 30-year career, and says the it has outlived its usefulness.“The practice in democratic countries is that the government does not monitor the press. The press monitors itself through a code of ethics. But in Nepal, a new law about the Press Council is in the offing, which proves the government wants to further tighten the noose around the press.”Bikas Karki, president of Photo Journalists’ Club, agrees that the government’s real intention is control: “The Constitution has become like the elephant’s tusks, it is there just for show. The laws are the real teeth inside, which bite.”Nepal has gone through censorship before. The Panchayat system banned political parties, and the royal palace strictly controlled the press. In 2005, King Gyanendra tried to take the country back to those dark days. Some say the new Code is even worse than the Panchayat.“There were threats then, but they were verbal or even unspoken,” recalls photojournalist Gopal Chitrakar, who started out at Gorkhapatra during the Pancahayat. “I don’t remember such draconian measures. These new rules are in writing, they are backed by the law. That gives them legitimacy which is more dangerous.” Kundan Aryal reassured us that the Code and laws can always be amended. But this does not convince journalists who say the laws that restrict media freedom are inherently anti-democratic, unconstitutional and remove its check-and-balance function. Laws that are broadly defined are even more dangerous, and can be a path to authoritarianism.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/varying-press-freedom-in-burma,1261" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Too little, or too much freedom</a>, Kunda Dixit <h4>The right to say the emperor is naked</h4> Satire flourishes best and is most prolific when there are controls on free speech, and Haribansa Acharya should know. He says he performed his most fulfilling and creative skits during the Panchayat.“Saying ‘17 Sal’ out loud was banned, since it was the year of King Mahendra’s coup. So we got away by saying ‘the year between 16 and 18’,” remembers Acharya. “We also called Prime Minister Surya Bahadur Thapa ‘Gham’ instead of Surya. We played cat and mouse with the censors, and it was more fun and creative. Today’s satire seems to lack that art.”Satire, in fact, seems less necessary when there is full freedom, but it is a lifeline during restrictive times. Even during the absolutist Rana and Shah reigns, the royals knew citizens needed to let off a little steam. So, they allowed one day in a year on Gai Jatra (on 27 August this year)when people had freedom to say anything. <figure><img width="1200" height="841" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107141112/636904bf9c7e80680e037d3ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Culture expert Tejeswor Babu Gongah remembers Gai Jatra revelers burning an effigy of the Panchayat, an act that would have people locked up on any other day of the year."Humour is one space where you can raise issues that you cannot elsewhere, therein lies its power to question authority,” he adds.Some have noted that this year’s Gai Jatra seemed subdued, with fewer shows. On social media, there were comments that satirists had already started self-censoring because of the new Criminal Code.Satirist Manoj Gajurel, who has made a career out of lampooning kings, prime ministers and guerrilla commanders, says: “Humour has a social responsibility to carry the people’s message to authority when it refuses to listen to direct communication.”However, an elected government now wants to take away that right of Nepalis to poke fun at power. Section 306 of the Code specifically prohibits ‘satire’ and categorises it under libel, and Section 295 prohibits caricatures.“I feel a great sense of dread,” admits cartoonist Durga Baral, who went underground during the Panchayat but continued to produce cartoons under the pen-name Batsyayan, despite threats."Freedom of expression is our basic right, and if we are not free to speak out, it all gets bottled up inside.”Nepali cartoonists are pushing back. Last week, Rabin Sayami drew a savage cartoon that tore the government to shreds over its callousness in not investigating the Kanchanpur rape case, and killing a protester. It depicted a smiling Pushpa Kamal Dahal and a smug Prime Minister Oli with a smoking gun in his hand (above). The rapist holds a bloody knife, and has his back turned. Two photos of the rape victim and a dead protester hang on the wall.Sayami was warned by friends to be careful, and that he might be sent to jail. He says the cartoon was a test: “To see if we are still a democracy.”Read Also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saparu-the-festival-of-death-and-rebirt,2543" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Saparu</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11225#.W4fAI84zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Festival of death and satire</a>, Desmond DoigCode wordsWhile Nepal's journalistic community is up in the arms about the latest Criminal Code, lawyer Madhav Basnet says it is not as worrying as perceived, for the following reasons: <ul><li>The 1990 Constitution was the first one to clearly mention the right to privacy.</li><li>Nepal has a long history of laws against slander and libel, even in Jang Bahadur's Muluki Ain of 1853.</li><li>The Criminal Code does not specifically mention any profession like writers, journalists or photojournalists.</li><li>The conduct of journalists is covered by other laws related to the media, which remain unchanged. The Criminal Code mentions that it will not supersede laws relating to specific professions.</li><li>With social media, it is not just journalists and photographers who take photos, collect and disseminate information, but everyone. The Code is only prescribing limits for them.</li><li>The law, however, does apply to journalists if they are not transmitting through the mass media.</li><li>The Criminal Code is not the guarantor of freedom of expression, the Constitution is. That freedom is not without its limits, and the limits are also mentioned in the Constitution. However, nothing can take away that freedom. And if any law seems to infringe upon it, then there are Constitutional remedies.</li></ul>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-has-press-freedom-but-no-freedom-after-press/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal has press freedom, but no freedom after press</a>, Shashank Shrestha

Gagging the press in installments

<img width="1140" height="457" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714118/636903e39c7e80680e037cedjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nepali journalists could face up to three years in prison if they publish information that is deemed to be “confidential” under the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/strongman-rule/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/strongman-rule/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1534600447559000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGWxMmKhx8j3vF7t9ukxILUUvlF1w">new criminal code</a>. Several of its articles relating to the protection of privacy pose a <a href="http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/news/2018-08-16/privacy-and-the-press.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/news/2018-08-16/privacy-and-the-press.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1534600447559000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH08bpzmOGAQCAlcAwBIROeyRYGhQ">serious threat to journalistic practices</a>.Sections 293, 294 and 295 criminalise publishing private information, recording conversations or taking pictures without permission. Under article 306.2, showing “disrespect” towards someone either directly or through satire is also punishable by up to three years in prison.“We call on the Nepal authorities to immediately rewrite these provisions because, in their current form, they would seem to constitute an unacceptable censorship tool,” said Daniel Bastard, the head of RSF’s Asia-Pacific desk.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/strongman-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Strongman rule</a>, Om Astha Rai“They must take account of the need to be able to gather news and information in the public interest. By leaving too much to the judge’s discretion, these articles could be used to criminalize all investigative journalism and criticism of public figures. If they are not amended quickly, Nepal is liable to fall sharply in the World Press Freedom Index.”The preamble of <a href="http://www.wipo.int/edocs/lexdocs/laws/en/np/np029en.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=http://www.wipo.int/edocs/lexdocs/laws/en/np/np029en.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1534600447559000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEiwge96a0fg7c-RYTj6SWBQ-2MUQ">Nepal’s 2015 constitution</a> proclaims full freedom of the press, while article 19 prohibits censorship. Journalists are nonetheless often subjected to pressure from various authorities, as when the head of the Supreme Court <a href="https://rsf.org/en/news/nepals-chief-justice-tries-gag-newspaper" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://rsf.org/en/news/nepals-chief-justice-tries-gag-newspaper&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1534600447559000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF-zLo0-vt7q6RENCBxY_pqBb_wmA">tried to prevent the publication of any reports criticizing him</a>. He was later removed.Nepal is ranked 106th out of 180 countries in <a href="https://rsf.org/en/ranking" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&amp;q=https://rsf.org/en/ranking&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1534600447559000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEyHj8Ii7uCpCaW3mMuTZmZwDsGfw">RSF's 2018 World Press Freedom Index</a>, and could fall further if the current Code is implemented.

Amend Criminal Code: RSF

India and Pakistan are twins separated at birth. Tensions between them have been at a hair trigger ever since independence and has erupted into full scale conflict at least four times in the past 80 years.
The 22 April terrorist attack in Kashmir that killed 25 Indian tourists and a Nepali citizen, threatens to escalate tension between the two nuclear-armed nations. India has squarely blamed Pakistan for the attacks, and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has given his military “operational freedom” to respond. Pakistan has said it has credible intelligence of an Indian military strike and its officials have promised a “full spectrum” response — a code for a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/thinking-the-thinkable">nuclear retaliation</a>.
For Nepal, the killing of its national in the Pahalgam attack comes as another stark reminder that in conflicts from Afghanistan to Iraq, from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/how-to-agree-an-armistice-in-ukraine">Ukraine</a> to Israel, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/10-nepalis-from-one-town-fighting-in-ukraine">Nepalis are getting caught in the crossfire</a>. The last time full-scale fighting broke out between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/peacemongers-at-india-pakistan-border">India and Pakistan</a> on Kargil in 1999, at least 22<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-trial-by-fire-for-soldiers-from-nepal?%27%5C%22="> Nepalis fighting for the Indian Army</a> were killed in action.
Three of Nepal’s immediate neighbours (China, India, Pakistan) have nuclear weapons, and they do not have good relations. With China supplying weapons, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/war-and-warming">missile technology</a> and other support to Pakistan, this triangular friction could set off a regional conflagration.&nbsp;
<a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43016-022-00573-0" target="_blank">Research at Rutgers University</a> has calculated that even a week-long tactical nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan would throw up so much smoke and debris into the atmosphere that it would block out the sun for years, and lead to a collapse of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/grow-nourish-sustain-together-world-food-day">global food system</a>. This does not take into account the radioactive fallout that prevailing winds would blow up to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">the Himalaya</a>, contaminating glaciers that are the sources of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-what-is-left-of-himalayan-rivers">Asia’s main rivers</a>.
The impact of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climate-breakdown-linked-to-thame-flood">climate breakdown </a>on High Asia was already ringing alarm bells about its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/himalayan-icecap-melting-faster-than-thought">shrinking ice cap</a> reducing the dry season flow of water downstream. Water was going to be the next strategic commodity, geopolitical experts warned, and the next wars in Asia would be over water.
That water war is already happening. India retaliated to the Kashmir attack by suspending the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/24/world/asia/india-pakistan-indus-waters-treaty.html" target="_blank">Indus Waters Treaty</a> of 1960 mediated by the World Bank that has withstood at least three wars between India and Pakistan. The treaty gives India control over the three eastern tributaries of the Indus (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beas_River" target="_blank">Beas</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ravi_River" target="_blank">Ravi</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutlej" target="_blank">Sutlej</a>), while Pakistan got water from the Indus and two of its western tributaries (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indus_River" target="_blank">Indus</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chenab_River" target="_blank">Chenab</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jhelum_River" target="_blank">Jhelum</a>.
Pakistan was assured of 70% of the annual flow, and India could use a reasonable amount of water for<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15231"> irrigation and hydropower</a>. &nbsp;Within days of its threat, India stopped water flowing down to Pakistan from the Chenab river and is reportedly preparing to do the same on the Jhelum.
The sabre-rattling has reached a crescendo. Besides threats and counter-threats there are also symbolic drills, with the Indian Air Force practicing landing on an expressway in Uttar Pradesh by its Rafale, Su-30 and Jaguar fighter jets to demonstrate ‘operational readiness’. In response Pakistan test-fired its Abdali ballistic missile that can carry a nuclear warhead and has a range of 450km.&nbsp;
The danger is that with ultra-nationalist rhetoric and the beating the war drums by both sides, India’s government and Pakistan’s military may have to ‘do something’ to appease domestic public opinion. But any tactical strike, an artillery exchange, or territorial incursion could quickly escalate out of control.
Expecting an Indian retaliation for the Pahalgam killings, Pakistan is using<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/interfaith-collaboration-for-nuclear-disarmament"> nuclear deterrence </a>and warning of “catastrophic consequences”. The two neighbours came close to a nuclear exchange in 2019 after an attack on the Indian military in Kashmir, and prompt international intervention led by the United States cooled tensions.&nbsp;
This time, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/trump-shock-wave-hits-nepal">Trump administration</a> is too distracted and not as engaged. Pakistan has denied it was responsible for the terrorist attack and called on Washington to stop a possible Indian retaliation. India and Pakistan have stopped overflights by each other’s airlines, and some international carriers have even stopped flying over Pakistan fearing an air war.
Washington, Beijing, the UN and the EU have all urged restraint. Iran, which has good relations with both India and Pakistan has sent its foreign minister to urge both countries not to go into a tit-for-tat war. Iran has its own nuclear flashpoint to worry about with tensions in Israel, &nbsp;Yemen and Syria.
India and Pakistan both share similar problems of joblessness, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-s-poverty-rate-is-stuck">poverty </a>and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-change-new-threat-to-nepal-s-rhinos">environmental threats</a>. Neither side needs the threat of a senseless war, and we in the neighbourhood do not need it either.&nbsp;
Kunda Dixit
This Editorial is brought to you by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a>, in collaboration with <a href="https://inpsjapan.com/en/" target="_blank">INPS Japan</a> and <a href="https://sgi-peace.org/" target="_blank">Soka Gakkai International</a>, in consultative status with UN ECOSOC.

Nukes in the neighbourhood

The streets of Patan are alive this month with lavender jacaranda trees under rain-washed skies as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the chariot of Rato Matsyendranath</a> is pulled across town. This is the festival of the rain god, and inevitably the heavens opened up and pre-monsoon showers pelted the chariot as it started being pulled in Pulchok last week. Thousands of devotees, onlookers and the chariot procession organisers thronged the streets on the first day last week. The rhythmic cymbals and drums exuded a vibrant energy as the enormous four wheels turned and the chariot lurched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025051007050_81df97744db16f732a419dc1f1579d235ce3df37642b078f50b83bd4bd026688" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  The<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Red-rain-god,3141"> red rain god</a> has Hindu and Buddhist antecedents, alternatively called Bungadya and<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-gravity-defying-chariot-festival"> Karunamaya</a> — reflecting Kathmandu Valley’s syncretic mixture of the two religions.&nbsp; “Bungadya is a profoundly <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/12-full-opinion/marketing-the-intangible">intangible form of heritage</a>,” explains heritage expert Monalisa Maharjan. “It embodies traditional knowledge,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft"> artisanal skills passed down through generations</a>. Local communities and specific families have specified roles in being custodians of the heritage, ensuring their survival over the centuries.” There are many legends and stories about this annual tradition. Lichhavi king Narendra Dev is supposed to have brought Rato Matsyendranath from Assam to Kathmandu Valley to convince Guru Gorakhnath to lift a spell that created a two-year drought in Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250510050520_347a9a398f8a9abc4a7fb4e2774fde8264cccbdce8bdab23851ab3f0e73c3e8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1503" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Matsyendranath was Gorakhnath’s mentor, and upon seeing him, the serpents were released, unleashing the rains. The chariot festival honours the return of this life-giving rain. The deity is seen as an icon for thriving agriculture, t<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">he arrival of monsoon</a> showers, and the welfare of the community. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain">The reign of the god of rain</a>, Vidhu Prakash Kayastha Till this day, the Rato Matsyendranath festival is no ordinary celebration. Patan does not sleep for a month as the chariot is pulled through various neighbourhoods. It unfolds at a state level with the president (formerly the king) attending the climax of the Bhoto Jatra in Jawalakhel later this month.&nbsp; The intergenerational transmission of tradition is unique in the world, and the reason the festival is one of the most vibrant cultural expressions that thrives despite inroads of modernity. The other unique aspect is that it is a transnational festival, binding Patan with Guwahati in the Indian state of Assam.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025051005058_8bc685ada13045d863b28e3eed91c931da2b510714586af6fd7eb5d1e298a24a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1503" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  “Unlike Nepal, where the deity commands grandeur and devotion, many in Assam are unaware of Rato Matsyendranath,” says Khagen Sharma of Gauhati University, which convened <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-assam-connection-revived">a symposium in February in Guwahati on the rain god</a>. Attending was a delegation led by Lalitpur Mayor Chiribabu Maharjan, organisers of the festival, and builders of the chariot. After the symposium, a committee was formed to explore and revive the tradition in Assam as well. Although the team had planned to visit Nepal this month, logistical challenges delayed the trip. Still, there are plans to build a Guru Matsyendranath statue in Assam to reestablish regular worship practices in the Guwahati shrine.&nbsp; The vines used to build the chariot in Patan are sourced from the jungles of Assam. But Sharma notes that in recent years unclear regulations have blocked the official import of the vines, although they are still brought to Nepal informally. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/makers-of-machhindranath,2204">chariot making</a> has also had a taste of modernisation in recent times. In the past, even a single nail or piece of steel was avoided. But over time, the wooden structure, particularly the shaft between the wheels, has been replaced with bronze. When that too proved unstable, metal clamps were introduced, which have become a pragmatic compromise.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250510050524_b2a819a5791612f14c81d30fc393dbd3f99f0c64b90a9110e8b0855d944bfa93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Divine chariot"> </figure>  Another welcome change is the focus on safety. Builders climbing the chariot’s tower now wear harnesses and there are efforts in crowd control. The most visible change in recent years has been the involvement of Patan’s enthusiastic youth in the festival — the tradition is now passing to a new generation. Says Matsyendranath expert Vidhu Kayastha: “There is more energy, the young people in red t-shirts this year were very organised, these modern touches aren’t diluting our culture, they’re keeping it alive in new forms.” He adds, “We are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/searching-for-a-homeland-away-from-home">reconnecting with our roots</a>, we have more resources, more awareness than ever before. We must not be swept away by western values that may not serve us, and in some ways, cause more harm than good. We must revive our own culture.”&nbsp;

Divine chariot

In 2025, two seemingly disconnected acts of violence shattered the illusion of stability in the region. In March, <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/16f7f947-1e96-4206-9844-891378adc683" target="_blank">militants hijacked a passenger train</a> near the Bolan Pass in Balochistan, executing soldiers in cold blood. A month later, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/22/world/asia/kashmir-terrorist-attack.html" target="_blank">gunmen in Kashmir’s</a> Pahalgam Valley massacred tourists. 
In both Islamabad and New Delhi, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/4/25/were-cursed-kashmiris-under-attack-across-india-after-pahalgam-killings" target="_blank">the reaction was reflexive:</a> condemn the violence, <a href="https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/04/22/india-and-pakistan-could-come-to-blows-over-kashmir" target="_blank">blame external enemies</a>, declare the situation contained. But South Asia’s leaders are not fighting terrorists alone. They are fighting the consequences of their own betrayals.
Across <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-26272897" target="_blank">Balochistan</a>, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-south-asia-11693674" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, <a href="https://www.crisisgroup.org/asia/south-asia/india/346-finding-way-out-festering-conflict-indias-manipur" target="_blank">Manipur</a>, and beyond, decades of <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/projects/enforced-disappearance-in-south-asia/" target="_blank">enforced disappearances</a>, broken promises, and brute militarisation have hollowed out the social contracts meant to hold these nations together. The grievances that drove rebellions from the 1940s through the 1990s – demands for dignity, recognition, and political agency – were never meaningfully addressed. They were buried beneath asphalt and propaganda, paved over by development projects and security checkpoints.
States may claim victory. But their victories are mirages, dissolving the moment anyone looks too closely. South Asia’s unfinished wars are not relics of a violent past. They are live ammunition, loaded into the future.
<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/mar/24/he-only-wanted-revenge-the-bloody-insurgency-in-balochistan-gaining-lethal-momentum" target="_blank">Balochistan</a> has been at war with Pakistan for most of its modern history. Rich in gas, minerals, and coastline, the province has been plundered for decades under the language of national development. 
Projects like the <a href="https://eastasiaforum.org/2020/11/26/pakistans-three-evils-cpec-and-good-governance/" target="_blank">China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC)</a> promise progress but deliver exclusion: minerals are mined, ports are secured, but Baloch homes are raided. 
The insurgency endures not because of foreign conspiracies, as Islamabad endlessly insists, but because the Pakistani state remains incapable of seeing its <a href="https://thebalochistanpost.net/2025/01/enforced-disappearances-in-balochistan-in-december-2024-tbp-report/" target="_blank">Baloch citizens</a> as anything other than a security problem to be managed.
In <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/ranisingh/2016/07/12/kashmir-in-the-worlds-most-militarized-zone-violence-after-years-of-comparative-calm/" target="_blank">Kashmir</a>, the Indian government claims to have <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/08/world/asia/kashmir-village-defense-committees.html" target="_blank">“normalised” the valley</a> after revoking its autonomy in 2019. It <a href="https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/conflict-between-india-and-pakistan" target="_blank">looks a lot like occupation</a>. Soldiers outnumber local leaders, dissent is criminalised, internet shutdowns suffocate public life. Tourism campaigns and investment summits cannot erase a generation raised under curfew and surveillance.
<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-66260730" target="_blank">Manipur’s descent into ethnic bloodshed</a> in 2023 exposed another fault line Delhi prefers to ignore. Long-simmering tensions between the Meitei and Kuki communities erupted into violence that shattered any illusions of northeastern integration. The central government’s delayed, politicised response made clear what many Manipuris had always suspected: they are citizens of India only when convenient.
Even the <a href="https://msf.org.au/rohingya-worlds-largest-stateless-population" target="_blank">Rohingya, stateless and exiled from Myanmar</a>, find themselves entangled in South Asia’s ethnonationalist calculus. Fleeing genocide, they are criminalised anew in Bangladesh and India – trapped between the countries that reject them and the memories that refuse to let them go.
South Asia’s states have excelled at suppressing rebellion. But failed at extinguishing the reasons rebellions rise in the first place. And the wars South Asia tries to forget at home have found new life abroad.
Across <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-06-17/modis-indian-government-accused-of-spying-silencing-critics/103974414" target="_blank">Canada, Australia, Britain, and the United States</a>, diasporic communities have become memory-keepers and, increasingly, <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/khalistan-supporters-hold-protest-outside-indian-consulate-in-vancouver-123092600087_1.html" target="_blank">the agitators</a> for the struggles their home states would rather erase.
Khalistan flags fly outside Indian consulates in Vancouver and <a href="https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/punjab/perturbed-over-waving-of-khalistani-flags-at-an-event-in-melbourne-india-warns-australia-of-khalistan-separatists-and-their-links-with-terror-groups-458320/" target="_blank">Melbourne</a>. Tamil activists march through London, demanding accountability for the <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2024/5/19/grim-reminder-sri-lankas-tamils-mark-15-years-since-end-of-civil-war" target="_blank">massacres in Mullivaikkal</a>. Kashmiri protests in Washington and New York refuse to let India’s crackdown slip into diplomatic amnesia.
For host countries, these movements pose uncomfortable questions. Freedom of expression collides with fears of extremism. Clashes erupt between communities carrying wounds that their new homelands.
Meanwhile, South Asian states pursue their adversaries across borders. India faces allegations of <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/canada-says-india-home-minister-ordered-campaign-against-sikh-activist-rcna177972" target="_blank">targeting Sikh activists for assassination in Canada</a> and the <a href="https://www.npr.org/2024/10/27/g-s1-29561/sikh-separatist-assassination-india" target="_blank">United States</a>. Pakistan continues to court Kashmiri separatists abroad while crushing Baloch dissent at home. <a href="https://apnews.com/article/sri-lanka-tamils-civil-war-dead-5b372b0bba567837c5a4d94250040e7d" target="_blank">Sri Lanka</a> lobbies furiously to brand Tamil diaspora organisations as fronts for terrorism, even as it stonewalls investigations into its own wartime atrocities.
The old insurgencies have not been defeated. They have been globalised. South Asia’s governments have long mistaken silence for stability.
In Punjab, India broke the back of the <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2023/10/06/india/india-canada-sikh-khalistan-analysis-intl-hnk/index.html" target="_blank">Khalistan insurgency</a> through brute force. The fields grew green again, the trains ran on time. But the wounds were never closed, the <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/why-is-indias-khalistan-separatist-movement-on-the-rise/a-65081729" target="_blank">movement’s heart beats</a> not in Amritsar but in Brampton and Surrey.
In Sri Lanka, the <a href="https://www.academia.edu/4738983/The_Man_Who_Destroyed_Eelam" target="_blank">military crushed the Tamil Tigers</a> with <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/01/17/death-of-the-tiger" target="_blank">overwhelming brutality in 2009</a>. <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/politics/article/3264148/we-want-our-children-back-sri-lankan-families-still-demanding-justice-their-missing-loved-ones" target="_blank">Tamil families still search for their missing</a>, still mourn their dead – and still organise across the diaspora for justice that remains undelivered.
In Kashmir, Delhi boasts of new <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/2/4/kashmir-is-bleeding-its-economy" target="_blank">highways and investment corridors</a>, showcasing the region as a trophy of unity. But when the visitors leave and the cameras are packed away, <a href="https://harvardlawreview.org/print/vol-134/from-domicile-to-dominion-indias-settler-colonial-agenda-in-kashmir/" target="_blank">the checkpoints, the raids, and the quiet despair remain.</a>
Victory parades fade. Grievance endures. Suppressing insurgency may end battles. It does not end the ideas that fueled them. In a region where <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/23/world/asia/kashmir-attack-india-pakistan.html" target="_blank">history is rarely past</a>, and memory is rarely voluntary, states that rule through repression are only ever buying time. And often, not very much.
South Asia’s unfinished wars are not accidents. They are the inevitable consequences of states that confuse conquest with consent, and erasure with reconciliation. They cannot legislate memory out of existence.
Every <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c15qyyzz89lo" target="_blank">disappeared son in Balochistan</a>, every <a href="https://medium.com/the-wvoice/the-half-widows-in-kashmir-fef80c6b88e9" target="_blank">half-widow in Kashmir</a>, every <a href="https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/focus/rohingya-refugee-crisis" target="_blank">refugee child born stateless in a Rohingya camp</a> carries forward the memory of betrayal – a memory that outlives soldiers, politicians, and peace accords alike.
The region’s future will not be decided by GDP figures or infrastructure projects alone. It will be decided by whether its governments can summon the political courage to face the truths they have long suppressed – or whether they will continue down a path <a href="https://theconversation.com/india-is-using-the-g20-summit-to-further-its-settler-colonial-ambitions-in-kashmir-205166" target="_blank">where forgetting is demanded</a>, and rebellion becomes inevitable.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor at the Daniel K. Inouye Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies in Hawaii. This <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/nexus_articles/ghosts-at-the-border-south-asias-unfinished-wars/" target="_blank">article</a> was originally published on <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/security-nexus/" target="_blank">DKI APCSS Security Nexus.</a> The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of DKI APCSS, the Department of Defense, or the US Government. The appearance of external hyperlinks does not constitute endorsement by the United States Department of Defense (DoD) of the linked websites, or the information, products, or services contained therein. DoD does not exercise any editorial, security, or other control over the information you may find at these sites.

Balochistan to Kashmir

The discourse around <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-s-corruption-carousel">corruption in Nepal</a> is mainly about politicians and bureaucrats accepting bribes and kickbacks. The private sector usually does not get as much blame.
But the prevalent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-crony-communism-exposed">climate of cronyism</a> in Nepal means that the politicians and businesses are often hand in glove. The private sector is generally considered to be in favour of free market competition to encourage <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-has-to-curb-corruption-before-wooing-investors">investment</a> and innovation so that wealth is generated.
But insider trading, cartelling, and conflict of interest have become a given in Nepal’s private sector, and it all happens with the blessings of the government. In fact, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-business-of-politics-in-nepal">tycoons have become legislators and politicians have become businessmen</a>.
“Such collusion kills the free market, and does not allow entrepreneurship and innovation to flourish,” says Kush Kumar Joshi, former president of the Federation of Nepal Chamber of Commerce and Industries (FNCCI).
An example of this is the Dangote Group of Nigeria, which was planning for a cement factory in Nepal. A Dangote executive told us that Nepal’s cement cartel got the government to sabotage their plans.&nbsp;
Earlier, the same cartel tried to do the same thing to the Chinese companies Hongxi and Huaxin, arguing that Nepal’s cement industry was capable of meeting domestic demand and did not require foreign investment. Ultimately, Hongxi partnered with Nepal’s Shivam and Huaxin with former FNCCI president Suraj Vaidya.
In 2019, industrialists successfully lobbied lawmakers to prevent foreign investment in agriculture by amending the Foreign Investment and Technology Transfer Act. Two years later,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal"> foreign investment in agriculture</a> was opened, but only if 75% of the products were exported.
There is a long history of local lobbyists obstructing the entry of multinationals, like J Walter Thompson advertising agency and the international shipping company Maersk. Microbreweries, which can be operated by restaurants, have been prohibited at the behest of larger beer companies. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1292">private dairy sector </a>opposed the government-owned Dairy Development Corporation when it tried to begin production in Pokhara a decade ago.
“The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/business-as-unusual?fbclid=IwAR3qEnUrVu9pRhZU669FR1F4zF95uPJKBpbQbq-q1Bm26p7OMVw-8JBP7FU"> business sector</a> is a reflection of Nepali society and government which do not care about <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6725">ethical business practices</a>,” says former CNI president Hari Bhakta Sharma. “The environment is not conducive to the few businessmen who are honest.”
Lobbying by businesses is not unusual in a democracy, but its basic character should be for the collective good, not individual greed.
“This kind of profit-over-everything mindset is fatal for businesses. Entrepreneurs must prioritise social, worker, and customer welfare,” adds Sharma.
Industrialists have actively lobbied for the removal of policies that prevent loan misuse and require bank loans in specific areas. They have partially reversed such directives.
Until the economic slowdown, Nepal’s fastest growing industry was construction. But even there, cement and steel rod manufacturers colluded by price-fixing. Banker Parshuram Kunwar Chhetri says Nepal’s corporates just do not believe in free market principles, adding: “Their ideas go against competition benefiting consumers. It is all about price fixing, cartels and monopolies.”
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/poor-cash-rich-nepal"> Poor cash-rich Nepal</a>, Sonia Awale
Ideologically, Nepal’s Communist parties are supposed to be against the neoliberal free market, globalisation and the ‘imperialism’ of international financial institutions like the World Bank and the IMF. But cronyism is rife there, too.
Two years ago, the FNCCI and the Confederation of Nepalese Industries (CNI) accused the IMF of interfering in Nepal's domestic economic policy after the Fund demanded economic reforms as conditions for its Extended Credit Facility.
Says economic analyst Sujeev Shakya: “How can we expect an honest and ethical business sector when we as a society tend to laud those who earn money through illicit and corrupt means rather than lament their <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Editorial-moral,667">moral bankruptcy</a>?”
In October 2012, the Chaudhary Group’s CG Electronics warehouse in Kathmandu caught fire. A surveyor certified that the company had suffered Rs580 million damage, which was paid out by United Insurance Company.
The Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA) directed the Nepal Insurance Authority to investigate suspected insurance fraud, and found that the fire damage was actually Rs340 million.
The Patan High Court ordered Chaudhary Group to return the excess amount, a decision the company challenged in the Supreme Court. But in March, the apex court also found the Chaudhary Group guilty of insurance fraud.
Chaudhary Group's Binod Chaudhary, Nepal's only known dollar billionaire, is a Nepali Congress central committee member and MP, former president of FNCCI and founder of the CNI.
Then last February, the Central Investigation Bureau questioned Binod Chaudhary and arrested his brother Arun Chaudhary of CG Holdings over their alleged involvement in the illegal acquisition of the state-run shoe factory, following an investigative report by Ukaalo Online.
In 2021, Chaudhary and his family’s offshore business dealings landed them <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers">in the Pandora Papers list</a> by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) for hidden assets in Panama.
Says Krishna Khanal, assistant professor of business ethics at King’s College: “Cronyism, political collusion, and anti-competitive cartelling are routine in the private sector. There is no other objective than to make money at any cost.”
Conflict of interest is rife in Nepal’s share market. In 2023, Ghorahi Cement owned by Triveni Group issued primary shares at a premium price. There is also evidence that a river was diverted for the construction of its business tycoon Upendra Mahato’s Mediciti Hospital. Bhatbhateni owner Min Bahadur Gurung is also involved in Lalita Niwas land grab scam in Baluwatar.
Meanwhile, Shankar Group Vice President Sulabh Agrawal, former honorary consul of Kyrgyzstan, was arrested by the police during the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-uneven-covid-19-deaths">Covid-19 pandemic </a>after he was found selling 67 infrared thermometers from a vehicle with diplomatic credentials. He was later acquitted by the court for price-gouging.
Nepal’s most influential corporates were accused of evading billions in VAT by forcing invoices. Freedom Forum invoked the Right to Information to collect evidence of the involvement of CG Foods, Him Electronics of Shekhar Golchha, Morang Auto Works of Bishnu Agarwal, Sulabh Agarwal’s Jagdamba Steels, United Builders of Shakuntalal Hirachan, United Traders of Anuj Agarwal, and Min Bahadur Gurung’s Bhatbhateni Supermarket.
Most of these businessmen have held leadership positions in the FNCCI. Former FNCCI presidents Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka and Pradeep Jung Pandey, along with members of the federation's governing council Birendra Kumar Shanghai, Shashikant Agrawal, and others all have unpaid dues of Rs22 billion to Nepal Electricity Authority.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Chandiraj Dhakal was blacklisted by the Credit Information Bureau Nepal for non-payment of bank loans.
He had previously obtained permission to use 36 hectares of government forest land in Chandragiri for 40 years without competition, and had received an exemption to build a ropeway there. The 54th report of the Auditor General, stating that Nepal had suffered as a result of these decisions, had suggested that the state be investigated for leasing land at low rates allowing large revenue exemptions.
Another ex-FNCCI president Pradeep Jung Pandey was sentenced to prison in 2014 following a corruption case spanning three decades. Former FNCCI treasurer Gyanendra Lal Pradhan is currently facing charges of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/black-white-and-grey">money laundering </a>through insider trading.&nbsp;
Former FNCCI president Pashupati Murarka was acquitted by the special court in a corruption case, but it is still pending in the Supreme Court. His cement company was found to have exploited the environment by over-mining limestone at various times.&nbsp;
His Siddhartha Minerals was also found to have encroached forests in Palpa, following which the District Forest Office registered a criminal case against him and co-investor Manoj Kedia. Arrest warrants were issued for six people, including Murarka and Kedia, but Muraka was released on bail, while Kedia is on the run.
Current FNCCI president Chandra Prasad Dhakal during his tenure as a member of the Securities Board of Nepal (SEBON) was accused of conflict of interest in being a regulator in the sale of shares in a company that his family had invested in.&nbsp;
Dhakal is the chair of the IME Group, which owns banks, insurance, remittance companies, several cable cars and hotels, and has been embroiled in numerous ropeway-related controversies — most recently for allegedly using political connections to suppress local opposition to a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/progress-and-or-preservation"> cable car project in Pathibhara</a>.
Another example of fraud committed in collusion with political leadership is Himalayan Reinsurance, the investors of which include prominent businessmen who have led FNCCI and CNI in the past, including Shekhar Golchha, Pashupati Murarka, Bhawani Rana, Rajesh Kumar Agrawa, Rohit Gupta, Amit Mor, Satish Mor, Shashikant Agrawal, and Sulabh Agrawal.
During <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-the-pandemic">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>, the Nepal Insurance Authority requested approval for a reinsurance company through an emergency notice, even though such a government-operated company already existed. But Himalayan Re-insurance was granted permission without any explanation as to why another reinsurance company was needed, or how it was selected out of the five companies that submitted proposals.
It was found that the Securities Registration and Issue Regulation was amended to allow this company to issue shares at a premium price, allowing the shares priced at Rs100 to be sold for Rs206. Himalayan Re-insurance raised Rs6 billion. The Companies Act stipulates that primary shares can be issued at a premium price only after three years of operation, a criteria Himalayan Re-insurance did not fulfil.
Open competition, consumer protection, worker welfare, environmental consciousness, anti-corruption, and tax responsibility are the foundations of a country’s healthy business world. But most captains of Nepal’s industry themselves do not uphold those principles.
The business community here is instead actively engaged in lobbying and colluding with the political leadership, and forcing the appointment of their candidates to lead various regulatory bodies.&nbsp;
“While the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/reviving-nepal-s-craft">new generation of entrepreneurs</a> operating in sectors linked to external markets such as IT seem sensitive to and compliant with professional codes, ethics, professionalism, and honesty are sorely lacking in Nepal’s business sector in general,” says Rameshore Khanal, former Secretary of the Ministry of Finance.
He adds: “Even those following ethical practices have been forced to seek political favours for fear of being left behind. There will thus be<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/it-does-not-pay-to-have-integrity"> no integrity in the private sector </a>until there is honesty in politics.”
Following the publication of this report in Himalkhabar, a Supreme Court judge on the condition of anonymity said: “Businessmen do not adhere to the principles of judicial independence, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary">rule of law </a>and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/government-to-governance-editorial,4200">good governance</a>. They use intermediaries and political connections to approach judges and win cases. Meanwhile, nobody raises these issues in public.” &nbsp;

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