<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.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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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="747" height="600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba78a9c7e80680e07378cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>In the past week, two photojournalists and several reporters at a digital news portal have tested positive for SARS-CoV-2. The group Photo Journalists Nepal is organising PCR tests for all its members in the coming weeks.    Being on-site on the frontlines is also exerting a mental strain on journalists across the country as they have the constant fear of exposure and transmitting to elderly family members at home. They are also worried about losing their jobs, as media companies start laying off staff.This in turn is affecting the quality and quantity of news delivered by agencies. On the other hand, the financial fragility of media companies also affects their independence as they come to depend more on government support or advertising revenue.  A nation-wide survey carried out by the Nepal Press Institute and the University of Bournemouth found a rise in mental strain complaints among Nepali journalists. The poll was conducted between 10-24 July, and involved 1,134 journalists from all seven provinces. Of those surveyed, 83% said they worried about increased risk of infection, 75% said they feared the situation would get worse – as it did in the subsequent weeks after the survey was conducted. And 62% reported personal discomfort, and 28% were even losing sleep.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7-w7_jXD1EAside from worry about their health, reporters also said the uncertainty about their jobs and not getting salary on time was also causing mental stress. As many as 74% of the journalists polled said they had already suffered financially from the crisis, while 6.3% lost their jobs altogether, while 38% had salary cuts. These numbers are now higher because several more publications have shut down in the past month.  Even in July, the survey already showed that mental health was becoming a problem among frontline media practitioners. A quarter of those polled reported experiencing bouts of depression or frustration, and 60% constantly worried about their ability to support their families.   Finance Minister Yubaraj Khatiwada has proposed an aid package for cash-strapped journalists through the Coronavirus Relief Fund, and discussions with media support organisations are said to be underway.   <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-locked-down-nepal-print-is-still-king/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598416952991000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEm4pi2b_c74e39buscgy9bCs1qCQ">Print publications</a> have been particularly affected by the pandemic, with 55% journalists reporting a drop in the number of pages in their outlets, while 48% said there was a reduction in frequency of their editions. Many news agencies have also been forced to go online only, even as readership migrates from print to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepalis-are-drifting-to-digital-media/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598416952991000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFr3phi8yhoDHvT49nzYXRb3561DQ">online sites and internet coverage grows. </a>The survey reported a drop in the quality of audio and visual news broadcasts, as 20% of journalists felt they were spending less time doing their reporting or editing work.UPDATE 28 August: The Federation of Nepalese Journalists revealed that 71 media persons across Nepal have tested positive. Of them,  the most (27) are in Province 2.

Nepal’s journalists are also on the frontlines

Retailing for Rs20 and running to a full 20 pages, the ‘demo issue’ of the Nepali Times, <a href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_000.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">NT #0</a>, was printed and distributed in early July 2000 (below). Its ambitious masthead asserted that it was (or perhaps would be) ‘Nepal’s Top Newspaper’. This was at the height of Nepal’s civil conflict, and the front cover led with the headline ‘The people don’t want war’. Alongside ran a ‘Publisher’s Note’ extolling the virtues of fairness, objectivity and professionalism in the media, and pushing back against the dominant cynicism of the time.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77a79c7e80680e06464bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="466" height="578"/><figcaption>Front page of Nepali Times Issue #0.</figcaption></figure>Many of the contributors to this demo issue would go on to become regular columnists, including C K Lal with his ever-thoughtful ‘<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11070#.XmEw8XIzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">State of the State</a>’, the late and direct Barbara Adams and her ‘Barbs’, Sujeev Shakya writing under the pseudonym Artha Beed in a wide-ranging column entitled ‘<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11111#.XmEw7nIzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Economic Sense</a>’, and editor Kunda Dixit’s spicy ‘<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11072#.XmEw73IzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Under My Hat</a>’ satire on the back page. A first-rate collection of Nepali writers and journalists filled out the rest of the issue. The publishing landscape of Nepal was about to change forever.In the following week’s issue, <a href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_001.pdf">NT #1</a> (19-25 July, 2000), editor Kunda Dixit answered an implicit question that many were asking: why this weekly, now, and why in English? Noting that 1,300 newspapers were currently registered in Nepal, Dixit made an impassioned case for the relevance of an English-language weekly, arguing that the Nepali Times would 'take the concerns of those who matter to those who chatter', and do so by talking 'about us in a language that they understand'.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77a99c7e80680e06464cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="496" height="607"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=41764&amp;preview_nonce=2c61b17b70&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">16,600 pages of Nepali Times on Digital Himalaya</a>, Mark TurinAn essential element in achieving this broader goal was the page of translated articles ‘From the Nepali Press’ that became a regular, and much anticipated, weekly feature of the newspaper, ensuring that important local and national news received appropriate attention in Nepal’s English-speaking international community. Twenty years since the first issue, I caught up with Publisher and Editor Kunda Dixit to ask about the present and future of the Nepali Times.Mark Turin: What were your goals in establishing the Nepali Times in 2000?Kunda Dixit: We aimed for the Nepali Times to be a window on the whole of Nepal -- not just Kathmandu -- for the outside world. We opted for the ‘Berliner’ tabloid format with visually rich design, world-class production values, and a lively presentation of serious and not-so-serious issues. In short, a paper that people would read cover to cover. Actually, I could quote from the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10980#.XmEwsXIzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Editorial from NT #1 on 19 July 2000</a>: 'Nepali Times will aspire to be a true reflection of our times -- a journal to record the life and times of Nepalis in the decades ahead.'Have your goals changed over time? We never had a big circulation compared to the Nepali-language broadsheets, but very soon after starting we sensed that we had influence disproportionate to our reach. The reason was obvious: the language, subscription price, and subjects we dealt with, put us in a different bracket. A former Finance Minister once told me the Nepali Times made him nervous because donors came to meetings on Fridays carrying the morning’s print edition. Not much has changed in terms of the mission and vision of the paper. We haven’t even tampered with designer Rustom Vania’s original masthead and page arrangement -- it has stayed the same for 20 years.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77ab9c7e80680e06464djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="4000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>What changes have you seen in the publishing landscape in Nepal since you launched the Nepali Times in 2000?Nepal’s media terrain is transformed because of the internet, as elsewhere. The business model of legacy media has collapsed. While reader eyeballs have migrated online, many advertisers haven’t. People get their breaking news from social media, but the Nepali Times was never in the business of hard news, so we haven’t had to change our focus much. However, we do understand our role now also in terms of countering the fake news and alternative facts being propagated on the social web. Our role is still to explain, explore and extrapolate. In general, our text is shorter now because of shorter attention spans of readers, which means there is tighter editing. We try to show more, and say less. And we have revamped our digital edition since ten times more readers access us online than in print. This means using multimedia packages, lots of videos, photo galleries, and interactive infographics.When have you felt that the Nepali Times played a decisive role in exploring an important political moment or covering an underreported issue?A highlight would be our coverage of the royal massacre in 2001, and our continuous follow-up of the story as new evidence became available. I believe the Nepali Times and our sister magazine Himal helped quell some of the wilder conspiracy theories. During the conflict, we prioritised field reports highlighting the plight of ordinary citizens caught in the crossfire, investigating human rights violations, torture and disappearances. After Gyanendra’s coup, we defied the censors by leaving white holes in print, and inserting a ‘freedom gauge’ on the masthead. In the post-conflict era, we have kept up the reporting on the lack of closure for survivors and families of victims. Lately, we have consistently followed the impact of the climate crisis on the Himalaya as part of our focus on the environment.What value do you see in having a complete online digital archive of back issues?One of our most important assets is our archive. It offers a complete history of Nepal over the past 20 years. The archive is used a lot by researchers, academics, teachers and even novelists. We ourselves use it a great deal in the newsroom because a site search puts all the events and trends of the past two decades at our fingertips. We also value our partnership with <a href="http://www.digitalhimalaya.com/collections/journals/nepalitimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Digital Himalaya</a> because all 1,000 print editions of the paper are available as freely downloadable PDFs.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77ad9c7e80680e06464ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1119" height="829">What are your aspirations for the next 1000 issues of the Nepali Times?We will keep doing what we are doing, with in-depth field reporting and expert analysis to make sense of Nepal’s fluid socio-economic and political state, and to uphold press freedom. We also want to maintain the quality of language and design, and tweak the online content to make it even sleeker and easier to navigate for the 120,000 loyal readers we have every week in Nepal and around the world.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8644#.XmC28HIzbIU">In a state of statelessness</a>, CK lal<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5622#.XmC3MXIzbIU">Branding Nepal</a>, Artha Beed<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5511#.XmC31HIzbIU">Visit Nepal while it’s still dark, Under my hat</a>, Kunda DixitMark Turin teaches at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. He has lived and worked in Nepal for many years.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101148/636b77b09c7e80680e06464fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="125">

1,000 weeks of Nepali Times

<img width="1000" height="500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74059c7e80680e06236ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/>The careers of many journalists of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6041#.XjzSCi2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Durganath Sharma</a>'s generation spanned the technology transition. We started out as reporters in the age of cold type and letter press, graduated to Linotype, then in the 1980s came photocomposition and offset printing, after that we got rid of film and went straight from computer to plate, and now there are digital presses. Us reporters filed our stories by postal mail, dictated them on landline phones, telex machines, fax, dialup, and finally email and internet apps. We saw our stories being laid out with photographs in zinc blocks. Durganath Sharma, who died at age 72 on Wednesday in Kathmandu, was a celebrated and celebrity <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6241#.XjzZoS2B2t8" target="_blank" rel="noopener">television journalist</a>. But he started out in Gorkhapatra in the age of the letter press. He went on to the broadcast studio and his “Yo <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepali-radio-nepali-awaj,3728" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Radio Nepal</a> ho. Aba Durganath Sharma bata samachar sunnuhos” was the most recognised voice across Nepal as he read the morning news on the short and medium wave bands. <img width="640" height="500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74079c7e80680e06236fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b740a9c7e80680e062370jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1184" height="284"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b740c9c7e80680e062371jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1184" height="622"> <img width="640" height="454" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b740f9c7e80680e062372jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="453" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74119c7e80680e062373jpeg.jpg" alt="">Later, when Nepal Television started relatively late in the 1984, he was the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3591#.XjzSEC2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">chief news anchor</a> and set the standard for camera presence and audience connection. The joke then was that he should say “Aba Durganath Sharma bata samachar hernuhos”. Durganath Sharma travelled across Nepal, often accompanying King Birendra on his annual inspections of development in remote areas. Because of his frequent reportage from the field, close friends had given him a moniker ‘Durgam Kshetra’ (Remote Area) by playing on his name. But even in radio, Sharma presided over a rapidly changing technology from analog shortwave, to AM (amplitude modulation) and witnessed the spread of FM (frequency modulation) and finally satellite radio and digital broadcasting. He worked through the evolution of television technology from the age of video parlours to terrestrial broadcasting, and on to cable to direct to home dish. From cameras that were so large and heavy they had to rest on burly shoulders to the Sony Handycam and finally mobile phones that could take videos.   <img width="602" height="1122" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74149c7e80680e062374jpeg.jpg" alt="">Durganath Sharma was the screen persona telling Nepal what was happening around the world. This was the age of Panchayat, so domestic news had to be taken with a pinch of salt. The democrat in Durganath Sharma valued the freedom of press, but it was just a job. He later used his reach on Nepal Television to start Biswa Ghatana (World Events) program that catapulted him to stardom.In the age before Twitter provided instantaneous notifications about what is going on, Biswa Ghatana became a window on the world for a whole generation of Nepalis. As anchor, he did not just list the news line-up but also explain the background and context that drove events like the Israel-Palestine conflict, Chernobyl, Security Council debates and the fall of the Berlin Wall. <img width="640" height="403" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74169c7e80680e062375jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="558" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101132/636b74199c7e80680e062376jpeg.jpg" alt="">In later years he taught media studies and penned several handbooks for journalists. He had a bypass surgery 15 years ago, but continued to teach and write columns in Kathmandu newspapers. He died of cardiac complications on Tuesday, and with him we lose a media practitioner with institutional memory of Nepal’s political transitions and the evolution of information technology over the past decades.

Kunda Dixit

Durganath Sharma, 72

Nepal is known internationally for its successful community forestry programme, and the country has doubled its forest cover to over 45% in the last 25 years.&nbsp; But the opposite is true for densely populated urban centres like Kathmandu Valley which have turned into concrete jungles, with no remaining open spaces. Air pollution is increasing to hazardous levels, and the urban heat bubble means the temperature in the city is 2°C-3°C higher than in the outskirts. But there is a solution with a proven track record from similar densely populated cities in Japan — the ‘Miyawaki Method’ of growing local varieties of trees in any small patch of land in the city and turning them into compact forests. Named after Japanese botanist Akira Miyawaki in the early 1970s, carefully selected native trees and plants grow in tiny plots of land, or even in household backyards. They regenerate degraded urban soil, and help restore some greenery and biodiversity back to sterile city centres. The group Lily Leaves has planted Miyawaki forests in six sites across Kathmandu, and is on a mission to green all the river corridors in the Valley. So far, it has planted more than 17,000 trees belonging to nearly 40 species in patches of land along the Bishnumati and Swayambhu, and is eyeing the UN Park area along the Bagmati. “It is extremely important to connect with nature and greenery in cities,” says Lily Katuwal of Lily Leaves. "Besides restoring nature, these forests also clean air pollution and reduce summer temperatures.” Unlike traditional reforestation where trees of the same species are planted in bulk at a distance of 3-4m, Miyawaki prioritises native varieties best suited to Kathmandu Valley’s microclimate. The saplings are packed densely together, spaced only 60cm apart. After they start growing, native grass and undergrowth also thrive. The most recent plantation was along the banks of the Bagmati in Sanepa where, in addition to camphor and jacaranda which are grown in the area, native species such as kabro (Ficus lacor), kanike (Forget-me-not), parijat (Night-flowering Jasmine or Coral Jasmine), chanp (Plumeria), harro (Ink Nut) and barro (Bahera) were planted. A new site in Kirtipur is being readied for the next plantation. Miyawaki has been carried out elsewhere in various parts of Nepal, primarily in Dhanusha which has seen forest regrowth that has brought back insect, bird, reptile and amphibian life.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120428_e70c196852945760d082fc73ee18ea6883d13c16186893c00c10fd0a0ea12105.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260402120428_e70c196852945760d082fc73ee18ea6883d13c16186893c00c10fd0a0ea12105" data-rendition-name="original" width="1201" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Planting seeds for a greener Kathmandu"> </figure>  EMPOWERING WOMEN Lily Leaves employs just 17 women, six of whom have hearing disabilities. Many have been neglected or abandoned by their in-laws for various reasons. They have a livelihood and learn new skills so they can also find jobs elsewhere.&nbsp; “We trained them in plantation and other skills including tailoring, as well as jewelry, bag and reusable pad making,” says Katuwal. “They are now experts in planting trees.”&nbsp; Lily Leaves gets support from Pipal Tree International in the UK and Nepal, and hopes that the idea of compact urban forest spreads. This is especially important in areas like Taudaha, which is an important stopover for migratory birds. Once noted for its aquatic and avian biodiversity, Taudaha has become lined with concrete and has turned into a loud picnic spot. Urban expansion has encroached upon what used to be the floodplain of the Dhobi Khola, Bishnumati, Bagmati and Manohara rivers. The open spaces along the river corridors are being turned into green belts haphazardly. For many wards, the concept of green space is to have cement pavements and ornamental hard-to-maintain potted plants instead of allowing urban forests to grow back naturally. “Apartment buildings and housing colonies that are being constructed can include green spaces that can increase the real estate and rent value of property,” Katuwal says. “Engineers designing the buildings can suggest such changes so that we remain connected with nature.” Although Lily Leaves needs to have permission from local ward and municipal councils before implementing any program, it continues to face challenges in ensuring smooth coordination.&nbsp; In one such plantation along the Bishnumati River corridor, for example, a heavy earthmover uprooted young trees that were just beginning to thrive. Despite this setback, Katuwal’s team returned to replant them. The land mafia often covets the last remaining open spaces in Kathmandu, deploying local strongmen to try to take them over. &nbsp;They tear down fences, uproot saplings and loot tools. There is a lack of awareness about the importance of greening the city. But now that the former mayor of Kathmandu Balendra Shah is prime minister, national awareness could translate into more urban forests not just in Kathmandu but also in overcrowded urban centres across Nepal. Says Lily Katuwal: “We just plant the seed in people’s minds. Once people in the neighbourhood see that restoring nature lifts their quality of life and increases land prices, there is support. That is when the power of a good example spreads, and communities build on the idea.” &nbsp;

Planting seeds for a greener Kathmandu

It is only April, and Himalayan expeditions are already making rotations to acclimatise on Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, and will soon be making summit pushes.&nbsp; On Mt Everest, Icefall Doctors are fixing ropes and ladders into the Western Cwm as international climbers arrive at Base Camp. Spring 2026 is going to be the busiest and most crowded so far in the Nepal Himalaya. The main reason is that China has closed expeditions from the north side for eight-thousanders Everest and Cho Oyu, and also Xixapangma.&nbsp; The closure is informal, from what one can make out. The Chinese have not put out any official statement, but there are no permits either. The reason seemingly was the ‘Rising Dragon’ firework display last September by pyrotechnic artist Cai Guo-Qiang near Xigatse.&nbsp; Working with outdoor wear company Arc’teryx, Guo-Qiang set off an impressive sequence of orange and white fireworks that wound up a mountain. The spectacular display was criticised for damaging the fragile ecology of the Tibetan Plateau. But this cannot be the only reason the north side is closed. Experienced Everest blogger Alan Arnette anticipates that about 125 climbers will shift to the Nepal side of the mountains, and expects there to be up to 900 summits this spring — up from the highest spring number so far of 876 climbers on top in 2019.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260404050428_8c31812bf38f699c4faa74f25814a6ddaee397f71a629e549023f29250f05082.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260404050428_8c31812bf38f699c4faa74f25814a6ddaee397f71a629e549023f29250f05082" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="mountaineering"> <figcaption>Photo: KARMA TENZING</figcaption> </figure>  The early Base Camp arrivals are having problems with their first rotations because of heavy snow this season. Unlike previous springs, this year has seen back-to-back blizzards at high altitudes since February. The increased snow load on the slopes have increased avalanche danger right across the mountains.&nbsp; There has been an increase in numbers on Everest despite the West Asia war, flight disruptions, LPG shortage and new regulations. The permit fee has gone up for the first time since 2015 from $11,000 to $15,000 this year.&nbsp; The Tourism Bill passed by Nepal’s Upper House last year would have required climbers to have first summitted a 7,000m peak in Nepal before attempting Everest. However, the Department of Tourism has confirmed that there are no new experience requirements this season. Some want this rule changed to include 7,000m peaks anywhere in the world. That could be one reason people are rushing to climb Everest before the Nepal government changes its mind and enforces the new regulations on prior experience on Everest. “It’s probably going to encourage a lot of people that simply are not ready to go,” reckons Alan Arnette. “Once again, we may see a lot of inexperienced people on the mountain trying to get in before the rule comes into place, if it does.”&nbsp; Arnette has always been sceptical of Everest regulations, and points out many instances where rules have been announced but not implemented over the ten years that he has been tracking them. For example, a helicopter ban to Everest Base Camp was announced last year, but rescinded. A rule requiring climbers to bring down waste was never seriously enforced. Since there is so much money involved for the government and for the operators, any any rule that would reduce revenue is never fully implemented. This year there is another ‘High-Altitude Trash Quota’ rule requiring climbers and guides operating above Camp 2 to collect and bring down at least 2kg of waste from the higher camps.&nbsp; The Nepal government has tried to diversify peaks on offer by reducing the royalty on climbs, but the draw of Everest, Annapurna and other eight-thousanders seems to be too great. Even when the permit fees for some remote peaks like Kangri Shar, Himlung and Api, were reduced to $400, there are few takers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120436_a90cd44858e97086f773aa1fbd592b3434bb07d89cd4a1843b2ca32a84e7c72d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260402120436_a90cd44858e97086f773aa1fbd592b3434bb07d89cd4a1843b2ca32a84e7c72d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Photo Damien Francois"> <figcaption>Photo: DAMIEN FRANCOIS</figcaption> </figure>  TIME LAPSE Clients and expedition operators have been trying to shorten the time needed to complete an Everest expedition from the city of origin to the top and back. Since Nepal has no rules about spending a certain number of days in acclimatisation, this has allowed some expedition organisers to use new technology.&nbsp; Austrian operator Lukas Furtenbach last May led a group of four British ex-military clients to the summit within a week of leaving London. This climb was scrutinised because the group had practiced breathing xenon gas, a substance that increases the count of red blood cells and is banned in competitive sports. The climbers had also trained for months at home in hypoxic tents, and used supplemental oxygen during the actual climb.&nbsp; The success of that expedition prompted an investigation by Nepal’s Ministry of Culture, Tourism, and Civil Aviation, but there was nothing it could do because the team had taken the xenon in Germany two weeks before their trip. But even if they had administered the gas in Nepal, it would technically not be illegal. Furtenbach is firmly in favour of speed, and of using the gas. “The only reason why we are working with xenon is to make climbing safer, to protect climbers from high altitude sickness,” he says, arguing that the less time climbers spend on the mountains, the less their exposure is to disasters, sickness, and they also generate less trash.&nbsp; His firm, Furtenbach Adventure, offers a three-week Everest South Flash expedition, at a cost of €100,000, using custom oxygen systems. Other expeditions take up to two months.&nbsp; A young American duo of Ryan Mitchell and Justin Sockett got to Everest Base Camp five days ago. They are preparing for an oxygen-free summit attempt.&nbsp; ‘ Being around these mountains for one day has already brought me so much joy. Every time I come back to the Khumbu I feel more familiar and connected,’ posted Mitchell. He and Sockett have since summitted Lobuche East (6,119m) as they continue to acclimatise and wait for the Khumbu Icefall route to be fixed.&nbsp; There are other sans-O2 trips planned this climbing season in Nepal. Norwegian Kristin Harila, the fastest in the world to climb all 14 8,000ers (in 92 days), is attempting the Nuptse, Lhotse, and Everest three-peak climb without supplemental oxygen. American Tyler Andrews and Ecuadorian Karl Egloff are continuing their race to break records in Everest. While Andrews is attempting the Fastest Known Time from Base Camp to the top without oxygen, Egloff is taking it a step further and going for a round trip: from Base Camp to the summit and back in record time.&nbsp; Both Egloff and Andrews had attempted these climbs in 2025 spring, but abandoned around 7,000m due to bad weather.&nbsp; Kami Rita Sherpa wants to extend his all-time record of total Everest summits to 32, while Kenton Cool from England is chasing 20, a non-Nepali record.&nbsp; The first summits of the season will be in late April, or early May depending on weather. Besides Everest, there are a lot of interesting climbs on lesser known peaks.&nbsp; The Japanese trio of Masayuki Takenaka, Tatsuro Sugimoto, and Ryota Nomura, for example, are attempting the unclimbed Jarkya Himal (6,473m) near Manaslu. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Fake rescues</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120436_600c0176e24327fd3dfcfd634e4b871f3e5314aa00eb4885ad137ac6f9c4a3b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260402120436_600c0176e24327fd3dfcfd634e4b871f3e5314aa00eb4885ad137ac6f9c4a3b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="519" loading="lazy" alt="Fake rescues"> </figure>  This year’s spring climbing season has coincided with Nepal’s new government taking action against alleged perpetrators in fake rescues and insurance fraud. The Central Investigation Bureau (CIB) has already arrested more than a dozen trekking agency executives, hospital managers and helicopter company executives for medevac insurance fraud. Climbers are known to fabricate medical emergencies, get flown down from as high as Camp II on Everest, and then submit false insurance claims.&nbsp; Sometimes one flight is made to look like many using fake invoices. Trekking companies are also involved in fake rescues of hikers who just get tired of walking.&nbsp; Too many fake claims could lead to insurer’s losing confidence in the industry, and increased premiums, leading to delayed responses in real accidents.&nbsp; As a result of the scandal, there is now more scrutiny from the government about rescues. Already, helicopter operators have to wait for permission before carrying out rescues while their application is vetted.&nbsp; The worry is that this could cause unnecessary delays when time is of the essence in mountain rescue. Already, medevacs are delayed because of the bureaucracy needing permits to fly to sensitive regions bordering China. Last year, a climber died on Himlung because helicopter rescue took too long while operators ran from door to door in Kathmandu to obtain necessary permits. <h2>Mingma David Sherpa, MP</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120432_05c1600440327f4ae4bcae641b634714951f45702080a88d4e2628587190aa25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260402120432_05c1600440327f4ae4bcae641b634714951f45702080a88d4e2628587190aa25" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Mingma David Sherpa"> </figure>  Meet Mingma David Sherpa, Nepal’s first mountaineer to be nominated to Parliament. Sherpa is a self-made professional climber from Rolwaling, who rose up from an expedition porter to a record-breaking mountaineer and expedition organiser. As an insider, he is now in a position to streamline laws related to Nepal’s trekking and mountaineering sector. He is co-owner of EliteExped with Nims Purja, and in 2021 the two were part of a team of Nepali climbers to be the first to make it to the top of K2 in winter, the second highest mountain in the world in Pakistan.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120432_c4ec586e7a27b09a72e61925a3897d843f864563d9e82a3fd3e25293e22cbe54.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260402120432_c4ec586e7a27b09a72e61925a3897d843f864563d9e82a3fd3e25293e22cbe54" data-rendition-name="original" width="2082" height="1396" loading="lazy" alt="Mingama David Sherpa"> </figure>  Mingma David was also on Purja’s Project Possible to climb all the 14 eight-thousanders in six months, shattering the previous record of seven years. He was featured in Purja’s documentary 14 Peaks: Nothing is Impossible.&nbsp; At age 30 he became the youngest climber to reach the top of all 14 eight-thousanders for which he was awarded the Piolet d’Or. Mingma David has taken part in dozens of successful rescues of fellow climber, including the highest ever long-line rescue on Dhaulagiri and saving the life of fellow-climber from 8,600m on Everest. <h2>April Fool</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260402120432_775afff27d4a2889a60730aa25bbc5f8eb8ea343528c8c031a6febbfd74814c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260402120432_775afff27d4a2889a60730aa25bbc5f8eb8ea343528c8c031a6febbfd74814c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="1820" loading="lazy" alt="Furtenback Adventures"> </figure>  The Austrian expedition outfitting company Furtenbach Adventures spoofed the anticipated crowds on an April First post on social media this week, showing ‘a fully galvanized, weather-resistant steel staircase, complete with a sturdy handrail’ to make the Hillary Step bottleneck on Mt Everest less dangerous.

Nepal Himalaya Spring 2026

The war in West Asia has exposed the fragility of the economic architecture Nepal has built on over two generations. If the conflict continues, growth across developing Asia will slow and prices will rise. For Nepal, this will be felt through higher living costs, weaker economic activity, and growing uncertainty for the millions of families who depend on remittances.&nbsp; Nepal now needs to structurally transform from exporting labour to investing in domestic job creation. &nbsp; The country's current path toward a knowledge economy has a blind spot. A <a href="https://iids.org.np/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/unleashing.pdf" target="_blank">report</a> by the Institute for Integrated Development Studies (IIDS) in Kathmandu shows that IT export companies alone generated 7,228 jobs and income for 66,509 freelancers.&nbsp; We are building digital labour export, not an economy that accumulates institutional knowledge. The Nepali Upwork developer and a migrant construction worker in the Gulf are engaged in the same economic activity, but with different tools. Nepal’s reliance on a <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/BX.TRF.PWKR.DT.GD.ZS?locations=NP" target="_blank">remittance-driven economy,</a> means the country has failed to create enough <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/nepal/publication/unlocking-nepal-s-growth-potential" target="_blank">quality jobs</a> at home. For millions of young people, leaving the country is not a choice but a necessity to survive and support families back home. <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/nepal/publication/unlocking-nepal-s-growth-potential" target="_blank">Remittances</a> have no doubt helped reduce poverty. Thirty years ago, 55% of Nepal’s population lived on less than $2.15 a day, now it is 20% after the absolute poverty line was revised upwards. This progress has come at a cost — &nbsp;an economy that depends more on exporting workers than creating opportunities at home. This development reflects a deeper political failure to create meaningful jobs within the country. Since the democratic transition in 1991, Nepal’s leadership has largely recycled the same faces, with limited progress on job creation or industrial growth.&nbsp; Nepal cannot build a <a href="https://nipore.org/accelerating-nepals-startups/" target="_blank">knowledge economy</a> while its most ambitious people are outbound to Doha and Tokyo. We are also not just losing ‘labour’. We are losing the entrepreneurial risk tolerance of our youth.&nbsp; If the most ambitious 25-year-olds are abroad, who is left to support innovation and entrepreneurship? The same people who are working tirelessly abroad, are our biggest asset for development. Their work ethic and the know-how inurban renewal could well fit into the new RSP government’s mandate of 7% annual growth.&nbsp; The <a href="https://english.biznessnews.com/posts/-nepal%E2%80%99s-it-exports-cross-1-billion-" target="_blank">$1B milestone</a> of IT exports is a celebratory moment for Nepal. However, that cannot lead to a pathway to a $100 billion economy without innovation ecosystems that go beyond individual labour export. Companies like SecurityPal and industry associations such as NASIT have made significant efforts in building such an environment, recently championed by private sector leaders as a &nbsp;<a href="https://www.securitypalhq.com/blog/silicon-peaks" target="_blank">Silicon Peaks</a> model that emphasises a home growth tech cluster. The need to accelerate this transition is even more urgent with the escalating conflict in West Asia. &nbsp;The recent International Labour Organisation (ILO) <a href="https://www.ilo.org/sites/default/files/2026-03/Nepal%20LDC%20Graduation%20Employment%20Impacts%20Report.pdf" target="_blank">report</a> shows that LDC graduation is expected to adversely impact manufacturing with losses of $1 billion by 2030.&nbsp; If manufacturing takes such a large hit from losing trade preferences, then Nepal’s services and IT sectors need to structurally transform and shift from exporting individual talent to building firms. &nbsp; A generation’s frustration has finally forced a shift in Nepal’s political structure, handing the new government a clear mandate to fix failures. But the question still persists: what prevents Nepal from achieving sustained, productivity-driven growth? &nbsp;&nbsp; RSP is in the right place at the right time to put Nepal's economy on a firm footing. At the heart of Nepal’s economic underperformance lies a major development binding constraint: low returns to investment on projects.&nbsp; The government invests like a high-growth economy, with gross capital formation at around <a href="https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.GDI.FTOT.ZS?locations=NP" target="_blank">25–30 percent of GDP</a>. Yet economic growth remains modest. The problem is not how much the country invests, but how little it gets in return. One way to see this is by looking at how much investment is required to generate growth.&nbsp; Nepal needs large amounts of capital to produce relatively small gains in output (graph, below). For instance, in 2024, the ICOR was 8.29, this suggests that Nepal had to invest more than 8 units of capital to produce a one unit of additional economic output.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260406040412_605dc527641d2ff2dc5723ed8bbec946898331d5538a55b9941e32a0725bf811.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260406040412_605dc527641d2ff2dc5723ed8bbec946898331d5538a55b9941e32a0725bf811" data-rendition-name="original" width="1827" height="925" loading="lazy" alt="Economy graph"> <figcaption>Source: Author's calculation based on a Growth Diagnostic simulation</figcaption> </figure>  This reflects a deeper issue in how investment is allocated and executed. Capital is often locked in low-productivity sectors or diluted by delays, inefficiencies, and policy uncertainty.&nbsp; As a result, even high levels of investment fail to translate into sustained growth. Until investment shifts toward productive, firm-building activities, higher spending alone will not deliver results. &nbsp; To reverse this, the government must focus on raising the returns to investment by enabling firms to grow and compete. This requires a shift from managing scarcity to creating an environment where capital can generate consistent and predictable returns. A central priority should be given to attracting and retaining both domestic and foreign private investment. Investors do not just respond to direct incentives, but also to policy stability in the country. Nepal’s economy cannot sustain high growth if its human capital continues to leave the country.&nbsp; The goal should not simply be to create jobs, but to build companies that scale, innovate, and compete beyond Nepal. This requires supporting sectors with strong productivity potential and ensuring that firms can expand without being constrained by infrastructure gaps or regulatory friction. Finally, the state must improve the quality of its own investment. Public spending should focus on lowering the cost of doing business through reliable electricity, efficient logistics, and digital infrastructure.&nbsp; The GenZ movement took two days to bring change. The economic transformation of Nepal might take a generation. The RSP can accelerate this transition, but only if it focuses on building a better investment climate for business and not just feeding the global labour pool. Kailash Raj Pandey is an MPA/ID and MBA candidate at Harvard Kennedy School and MIT Sloan School of Management and a fellow at MIT Kuo Sharper Center for Innovation and Prosperity.&nbsp; Siddhartha Raymajhí is a policy researcher based in Kathmandu.

Creating a firm future for Nepal

Barely a month after the March election, newly elected lawmakers convened for the first session of Parliament on Thursday (picured above).
But the RSP had already hit the ground running in its first week in office. Prime Minister Balendra Shah and his trusted Home Minister Sudan Gurung conducted a slew of high profile arrests. &nbsp;
The former prime minister, home minister and Kathmandu CDO, among others, were detained in connection with the 8 September massacre outside Parliament.&nbsp;
The Cabinet unveiled its 100-point roadmap outlining sweeping institutional, economic and social reforms to ensure better service delivery, and setting deadlines for itself for the first 100 days in office.&nbsp;
Key priorities include strengthening digital governance, removing redundancy across the civil service, investigating assets of high-ranking political and government figures, depoliticising the bureaucracy and universities, as well as broader legal and constitutional reforms.
“The move to hold former leaders accountable sends a powerful signal that impunity is no longer politically untouchable,” says Pukar Malla of Governance Lab at Daayitwa Abhiyan. “On the reform agenda, the direction is right but the timeline is too compressed, 100 days is not enough to transform the system. It is only enough to establish the discipline of transformation.”
The RSP’s decisions have mostly been greeted with enthusiasm by the electorate which gave the party an almost two-thirds majority in Parliament. Nepalis are for the first time in decades genuinely hopeful about the country’s leadership.
“The enthusiasm is real because the pain is real. &nbsp;But people are not just asking for symptoms to be treated. They want the patterns underneath the symptoms to change,” says Malla. "That is where the leadership journey becomes much harder, because structural change is slower, more conflictual, and far less theatrical than headline decisions.”
The RSP’s prompt proactiveness signals a can-do approach designed to placate voters impatient to see immediate change, and also to warn influential figures of the past three decades that anyone can be dragged to jail or put on the immigration no-fly list. The message is also to the bureaucracy to pull its weight, and clean up its act.&nbsp;
But in public discourse, there is also a sense that anyone critical of the government’s decisions can be targeted and trolled. Enthusiasm about the new government &nbsp;seems to outweigh critical and nuanced reasoning about whether ‘Balen Sarkar’ can achieve targets it has given itself within the self-imposed timeframe.&nbsp;
Any concerns about the RSP’s perceived high-handedness or criticism of state overreach tends to be dismissed, branded as noisemaking by mouthpieces of old parties.
Critics say the arrest of Oli, Lekhak others did not follow due process, and displays the very partisanship and vendetta tactics of the legacy parties that the RSP vowed to dismantle.
“The detentions and the plans this government has made for the next 100 days might be necessary, but they seem to be optimised for public spectacle and rather than being deliberative steps for sustained reforms,” says researcher Dovan Rai of Body and Data.
She adds: “K P Oli failed because he put himself above the system, and it seems as though that power has just transferred from one personality to another. What we need is strong institutions, not strongmen that play the role of hero or villain.”
The RSP’s strategy to overhaul the state apparatus is high-stakes, aspirational and at times unquantifiable. The new leaders and the public must recognise that Nepal’s problems cannot be solved in 100 days.
The near two-thirds dominance in Parliament offers the RSP a chance to show results, but it is also an unforgiving majority. Failure is not an option.
Adds Pukar Malla: Political leadership may drive change from above, but civil society and citizen networks have to partner from below.”
The NC and the UML are licking their wounds, and again proved their obsolescence this week by trying to rehabilitate and reinstate old leaders. The UML is on warpath, and missed another opportunity to turn a new leaf by rejecting 36-year-old Suhang Nembang as parliamentary party leader.
People who did not vote for RSP must give the party a chance to deliver on promises. But the party's most effective opposition may have to be its own voters, who must play the check and balance role by insisting on results, and preventing fawning support for populist leaders resulting in authoritarian creep. &nbsp;&nbsp;
“The public now plays a critical role in holding the leadership accountable, it must go beyond small wins,” says Dovan Rai. “Support must not come from opportunism, and criticism must not be based on prejudice.”

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