<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="1920" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba7b89c7e80680e07379bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>All photos: SABRINA DANGOL</figcaption></figure>Bimala Dhakal’s husband Rajendra was a human rights lawyer in Gorkha, and had to go underground because the authorities suspected that he had Maoist sympathies. In 1999, he was arrested by police in Tanahu. It has been 21 years, and Bimala has not seen her husband since that day.  Police came after her, too. So she left her job and family and moved to Kathmandu with three small children. It has been two decades of raising her children as a single mother, while knocking on the doors of the police and the courts, as well as being herself arrested and tortured by the military.“The past is too painful to remember. I don’t think many can even understand the kind of pain I have faced,” says Bimala, who has almost given up hope of her husband ever returning.  Rajendra Dhakal is among the over 1,300 people officially listed as still missing from the 1996-2006 Maoist conflict. Since the end of the war, and even after <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/Justice-in-transition,458" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/Justice-in-transition,458&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598605338367000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFRLbLjCJUh4TK46Qw1BuC61QXVZg">two transitional justice bodies</a> were finally set up in 2015, families of the disappeared have got neither truth nor justice.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP) are staffed by political appointees, and all they have done in the past five years is collect testimonies and file them away in steel cabinets.<a href="http://nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/by-the-way/justice-adjourned-for-nepal-conflict-victims,454" target="blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Justice Adjourned</a>, Anurag AcharyaNew commissioners were nominated in January and have been rejected by conflict victim organisations. In April the Supreme Court ruled that the commissions could not offer blanket amnesty to those charged of serious human rights violations. Conflict victims have come to expect very little truth or justice from successive governments. The Nepali state today is made up of former enemies in that war, and although this has helped in the reconciliation process, it has come at the cost of justice for the families of the disappeared. Indeed, the ruling Nepal Communist Party is a merger of two parties, one of which is accused of murdering and disappearing leaders of the other till 14 years ago.Not having a missing relative present continues to be an ever-present pain. This burden of ambiguous loss is multiplied among thousands of families across the country who need recognition of their suffering, information on the fate of the missing relative, and support to get on with their lives. Because it was mainly men who were disappeared, it is the women who need help because of the added burden of social stigma.Because the government is no help, families of the disappeared and those killed by both sides have got together to form common pressure groups to demand justice. Mothers and wives of the disappeared in Bardiya have set up a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17396#.X0d8Uy8w3BJ">network of mothers and wives</a> of the disappeared.These days, Bimala watches Nepalis returning home from all over the world on the evening news. She says: “Deep down, I wish that maybe Rajendra could also come home like them.”  <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/nation/On-the-sidelines-of-justice,1594" target="blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">On the sidelines of justice</a>, Trishna Rana--Shanta Neupane’s husband Danda Pani was a member of the Maoist party. As the insurgency was intensifying in 1999, he was arrested by police put into a van and driven away. He has never been seen again.“In the days following his arrest, I visited the three main jails in Kathmandu. But I was told everywhere that my husband had never been arrested or detained,” Shanta says.The Supreme Court quashed her writ of habeas corpus on the same grounds that there were no records of Danda Pani ever being arrested.Shanta then opted for non-legal ways to seek the truth, organising a press conference and writing an appeal to the Parliament. But there was no word of her husband’s whereabouts.“My hair has turned grey searching for him. I regret that our children had to grow up without their father,” she says.On the thirteenth anniversary of his disappearance, Danda Pani Neupane’s case was submitted to the United Nations Human Rights Committee. But to this day, there has been no information about who or why he was arrested, if he is dead or alive, not has his family received justice.<a href="http://nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19345" target="blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Truth without justice is an insult</a>, Robert Godden--Gyanendra Tripathi was the member of a student union affiliated with the Maoist party.   Following the breakdown of the second ceasefire in 2003, the Royal Nepal Army began to  round up members of the student union.Gyanendra was arrested first time for 34 days, seven of which he spent in solitary confinement, blindfolded and severely beaten. Following his release, fearing for his own safety and that of his family, Gyanendra went underground. On 26 September 2003 at 11:00AM he left his home and never returned.Ever since, his wife Sharmila Tripathi has searched for him tirelessly. She pleaded at every police station, filed complaints, wrote letters to government ministries, human rights organizations. She even took part in hunger strikes to bring more attention to her husband’s disappearance.Her case went all the way up to the United Nations Human Rights Committee, which on 28 October 2014 found Nepal had violated Gyanendra’s right to life, to personal liberty, to recognition before the law and the prohibition of torture.Sharmila says, “I still have no idea of my husband’s whereabouts, but I still have hope. I will continue the search for him as long as I live.”   30 August is International Day of the Disappeared, and Nepali Times is bringing a series of features over the next few days on the survivors of the decade-long conflict and the families that the <a href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_827.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">disappeared left behind</a>. <img width="197" height="300" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba7bb9c7e80680e07379cjpeg.jpg" alt="">Read also: <a href="http://nepalitimes.com/article/business/tale-of-two-commissions%20,1275" target="blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The tale of two commissions</a>, Binita Dahal

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Disappearance of justice

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46529c7e80680e04d3d0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>'Comrade Pratista, 14, dances to the tune of a revolutionary song at a Maoist mass rally in Dang in 2001 during a Dasain ceasefire. Photo: TAKAAKI YAGISAWA/A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption></figure>Men and women in unisex combat fatigues dance energetically on stage. Their modernistic, martial moves would not look out of place in a tv reality show. But the lyrics tell a different story:It is time to sharpenthe shining khukri againThis YouTube video clip shows members of the Samana Cultural Group affiliated with the Biplav faction continuing where the mainstream Maoist party left off after the ceasefire in 2006.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vpqh0qAN72sSongs like these were hits during the insurgency, when Maoist propaganda units toured the country performing and mustering public support for the revolution. In many places, it worked.But even though Nepal has gone from war to peace, from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepal-from-royal-to-republic,3736" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">monarchy to republic</a>, and many of the performers have either migrated for work overseas or turned to other professions, members of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/its-a-crime-not-to-call-it-terrorism/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Biplav faction</a> are still singing to show that the revolution continues.The tradition of revolutionary songs did not begin with the Maoists. Ranudevi Adhikari, the first female voice on radio, sang songs against the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rana regime </a>that were broadcast from clandestine stations in 1949. One of them went:                Nepali, Nepali,                Let’s march forward                with the flag of revolution in our handsThe genre came to be known as janabadi, and the songs were revived during the Panchayat when four youngsters, Raamesh, Raayan, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3643#.XQtmIhYzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Manjul </a>and Arim, established a group called Ralfa.“At the time, the only songs were about love, not about the harsh life of poor people,” remembers Raayan, who today heads the Nepal Academy of Music and Dance. “Our intention was to bring awareness and to change society through music.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UMN8Sm9H-sThe group went on to create rousing songs like <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=868#.XQtmIxYzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gaun Gaun Bata Utha</a> and Gariba ko Chameli, and toured Nepal singing songs protesting against the Panchayat regime and establishing the pragatishil genre, which shares many features with protest music worldwide.The lyrics mainly dealt with social inequities and injustice. The music was often martial and easy to repeat and understand because it was based on simple folk tunes. When performed as dances, the songs were deliberately non-sexual, featuring uniformed men and women.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mm-NhAb2XRAThe tunes were instrumental in the success of the anti-Panchayat people’s movement of 1990 and the 2006 anti-monarchy protests. During the 1996-2006 insurgency, the messages focused on injustice and an exhortation to rise up and fight. There were krantikari (revolutionary) songs eulogising courage on the battlefield and mournful ones about martyrs.“The function of revolutionary songs was to recruit people to the revolutionary cause, and to rally the people,” recalls Mani Thapa (video below), who headed a Maoist cultural group. “They were relevant at a particular moment in history, and we don’t really sing such battle-ready songs anymore.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UnxO2TAn_QMany of the songs are now lost because they were never recorded, but also because the cause dissipated after the war. Writer and music analyst Raman Ghimire believes this is the fate of all revolutionary songs: “They are associated with a particular ideology and are only relevant as long as the movement needs them. They are never going to be popular in the mainstream.”The Maoist party’s cultural wing attracted many talented lyricists, composers and singers, but it was later dismantled. “After the ceasefire we had intense debate about which way we should go, towards peace or towards another revolution (shanti ki kranti),” remembers Laxmi Gurung (video below) who joined the Maoists out of revenge after her leftist father was disappeared by state security and her husband killed. It is her voice in dozens of revolutionary songs, including Rana Maidan Ma, in which a line says, ‘the lives of brave warriors bloom in the battlefield’.https://youtu.be/zZRtHbEGuDYLaxmi Gurung (above) joined the Maoists after her father and husband were killed. She did vocals for dozens of revolutionary songs.“More bloodshed will not be good for the country,” says Gurung now, adding that it is hard to survive as a singer in peacetime. Other members of her troupe have chosen other paths  too. Mani Thapa became a politician, while Maila Lama (video below) who sang songs exhorting guerrillas to battle, has joined the Biplov faction.Pragati Mahara of the Maoist Pratirodh Cultural Group today sings songs about social ills and transformation. “The songs about battles are a part of history,” says Mahara. “Now that our revolution is over, we are more focused on the need of the day.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfkOcWj7TJoMeanwhile, the original Ralfa generation is still active, perhaps more so than the Maoists who came after them. But even they have distanced themselves from politics. As head of a government institution, Raayan is focused on promoting Nepal’s folk art.Raamesh also shuns political affiliations, even though Ralfa’s songs were used by many political movements: first against the Panchayat, then by the Maoists, who saw them as precursors to their own revolutionary songs, and finally by political parties during the 2006 anti-monarchy protests.Raamesh is now more active as a children’s song creator. “We sing people’s songs, which speak up for the poor and disenfranchised. If anyone wants to use them for a good cause, they are welcome. But using it for vested political interests is a crime,” he says.Unlike Maoist songs, Ralfa’s numbers are evergreen because they speak of the larger causes of justice and equality. There is a lesson there in what makes a song endure, while others disappear.Jeevan Sharma, who established the Raktim Cultural Group, is among the few revolutionary singers who has gone mainstream. “The people always need a voice, and songs that speak truth to power. If they do that, songs do not need to be associated with any political party – they can have a life of their own.”Sharma’s own song of the life of the disenfranchised, Simali Chhaya ma Basera, has that long shelf-life.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Izb4dfqUt1ISince the Raktim Cultural Group was associated with the NCP Masaal led by Mohan Bikram Singh, Sharma’s songs were unofficially banned during the monarchy days and the composer himself was semi-underground during the Panchayat and the war years.Ironically the Maoists, who once promoted revolutionary songs, are today <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/creeping-control-over-the-press-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cracking down</a> on protest songs. Those who claimed to speak for people’s rights now try to ban songs like Pashupati Sharma’s Lutna Sake Loot.Raamesh himself is still writing songs, and his latest shows the fire has not gone out:                A great storm arose                To raise the fallen head of justice                Their deceitful face is now clear                Now we know they are regressive<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46559c7e80680e04d3d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="985"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h2>Laxmi Gurung's wartime memories in pictures</h2><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-with-purna-gharti-another-revolutionary-artist.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46589c7e80680e04d3d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="100" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28728"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28728" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">Laxmi Gurung with another revolutionary singer</figcaption></figure><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-with-sita-acharya-and-other-party-cadres.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a465b9c7e80680e04d3d3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="108" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28729"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28729" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">laxmi gurung with Maoist singer Sita Acharya and other party cadres</figcaption></figure><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-is-welcomed-with-flowers-at-a-village-during-her-campaign-as-a-revolutionary-singer.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a465f9c7e80680e04d3d4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="101" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28732"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28732" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">laxmi gurung is welcomed with flowers at a village</figcaption></figure><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-during-the-Maoist-era.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46629c7e80680e04d3d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="101" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28733"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28733" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">Laxmi Gurung during her days as a member of Maoist Cultural troupe</figcaption></figure><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-with-maila-lama-a-revolutionary-artist-who-is-with-biplov-faction-today-1.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46669c7e80680e04d3d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="97" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28734"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28734" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">laxmi Gurung with Maila Lama, a Maoist ]artist who is with Biplov faction today</figcaption></figure><figure class="gallery-item"><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/laxmi-gurung-with-sita-acharya-another-revolutionary-singer.jpg" data-elementor-open-lightbox="default" data-elementor-lightbox-slideshow="55de498"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813114/636a46689c7e80680e04d3d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="150" height="103" aria-describedby="gallery-1-28730"></a><figcaption id="gallery-1-28730" class="wp-caption-text gallery-caption">Laxmi Gurung with Sita Acharya, a prominent member of Samana Cultural Group</figcaption></figure>Read also: <a style="text-indent: -15pt; background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/350/Nation/13572#.XQtlIBYzaUk">Voice of the party</a>, Govinda Luitel

Still dancing and singing for Nepal revolution

There was sharp and widespread condemnation of the bomb terror unleashed by the Biplav-led Communist Party of Nepal this week on the Nepali cybersphere. However, Baburam Bhattarai of the newly-formed Nepal Samajbadi Party was greeted with a barrage of criticism over his perceived double standard in denouncing the bombs. Baburam Bhattarai’s original tweet:<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a42289c7e80680e04a6b7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="606"/>The difference between revolutionary violence and terrorism is that the first attacks known enemies in order to fulfill a political goal and to defend itself, while the second attacks unknown / uncertain targets in order to terrorize the populace. The serial blasts in the valley fall under the second category! Everyone should know that!Baburam Bhattarai @brb1954<h2>Comments and replies to the tweet</h2>According to the definition of the all knowing Dr. your dear friend Biplav is a terrorist. But then how come you, who committed more heinous acts in the past, are a revolutionary? According to your own definition, can we call you murderer, former terrorist, foreign agent, and a rascal?Medani Prasai @MedaniPrasai4<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a422a9c7e80680e04a6b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="393"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a422c9c7e80680e04a6b9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="634" height="328">Great logic! “If I bomb it is revolutionary, if you bomb it is terrorism.”Rajendra Dahal @Rdahal62A nice way of trying to clear the blame from your own mistakes: make your own definition of your mistakes. Did you ever admit that you killed civilians and ‘terrorized the people’? Let me tell you – there is no difference between the two. We can argue about this all day.Manish Prasai @manishprasai46<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a422e9c7e80680e04a6bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="421"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a422f9c7e80680e04a6bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="375">This is a continuation of things you taught. You got close to power and received many facilities. They are not in power and couldn’t take anything.Santosh Panta @sdpata_pantaThose who killed, cut down, looted, and made thousands of families bereft, and rose to power on the basis of those acts, are the ones acting all ‘good’ and criticising violence now. The country can never benefit from those who play the politics of violence in a democratic country.Rabindra Mishra @RabindraMishra<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a42329c7e80680e04a6bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="438"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121148/636a42349c7e80680e04a6bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="439">The government has reacted very irresponsibly to this event, implying that since it was the party cadres who died, there was no harm done. No matter who, what, and where, it is Nepalis who are dying. Instead of criticising or arresting Biplov party cadres, the government should go about creating jobs for the youth.Babita Basnet @babita_7

Revolutionary violence, or terror?

<figure><img width="1400" height="934" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28bf9c7e80680e04588cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SETOPATI</figcaption></figure>The terror attack on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/supreme-court-weighs-in-on-ncell-tax-dispute/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Ncell</a> head office in Lalitpur that cost the life of Sing Prasad Gurung and seriously injured three others on the night of 22 February proved that the Nepal conflict never really ended.The ten year war cost 17,000 lives, left tens of thousands injured, and 1,400 disappeared. Thirteen years after the war ended, one more innocent civilian was killed last week. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/innocent-life-lost/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Terror attack leaves tragedy in its wake</a>, Sonia AwaleA hardline faction of the Maoist party led by Netra Bikram Chand (Biplav) has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/yes-we-put-that-bomb/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">owned up to the attack</a>, and said the death was ‘unfortunate’. Chand used to be close to the current Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa and Pushpa Kamal Dahal, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/06/20/ballot-power/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">but never took part in elections</a>, accusing his former comrades of ditching the revolution.On the night of the attack on Ncell, the party also set fire to a dozen of the Malaysian-owned company’s cell phone towers across the country, causing damage worth millions and cutting off communications to a large swathe of the country. There was shock and dismay in the Nepali cybersphere following the attack, with a lot of the scorn heaped on the government for not bothering to issue a statement or commiserate with the bereaved Gurung family. Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22173&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stop the extortion</a>, From the Nepali Press<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/extortion-in-a-federal-state/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Extortion in a federal state</a>, From the Nepali Press<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/yes-we-put-that-bomb/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">“Yes, we put that bomb”</a>, From the Nepali Press‘A foreign ambassador condemned the terroist attack, but our own prime minister did not utter a word. He hasn’t visited the family to offer his condolences,’ wrote Salokya in a <a href="http://www.mysansar.com/2019/02/35013/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">hard-hitting blog</a> in the portal mysansar.com  ‘We often wish that others would not comment on our internal affairs, but what do we do when we ourselves do not speak up at a time like this.’   <img width="1250" height="1367" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28c29c7e80680e04588djpeg.jpg" alt="">Journalist Girish Giri, whose father was killed while mayor of Birganj in 2004 for ignoring a Maoist ransom demand for Rs500,000 attached a copy of the extortion letter, and wrote in a Tweet: ‘Don’t those who are barking ‘I will whack you for extorting’ now have to answer for killing my upright father precisely for not coughing up five lakhs? Or are these rulers going to keep on barking?’ (See screenshot above)Indeed, Nepal’s social media has erupted with accusations against the Biplav group attacking Ncell as part of a nationwide extortion racket that to many is reminiscent of the war years. Some have wryly noted the similarity between the Nepali word for ‘donation’ (chanda) and the surname of Netra Bikram Chand. In a BBC Nepali interview, Maoist leader Hemanta Oli said this week: “A life was lost, but little things like that happen in revolutions. We do not deliberately target people. It was an accident.”Many have also remarked that the ex-Maoists in the unified Nepal Communist Party (NCP) cannot really blame the Biplav faction of extortion and terror because those were very tactics they themselves used in the past. Although Biplav’s former bodyguard was reportedly detained on Wednesday, the NCP’s former Maoist home minister has shown no real inclination to go after a group that has unleashed a wave of terror nationwide.  By their silence, the former UML members of the NCP have shown they are also complicit in not going after the perpetrators. Although the UML is probably the least guilty of human rights violations during the war, its members have lost moral standing by not even condemning the attack.Many senior UML leaders had thought that uniting with the Maoists would moderate the former guerrillas, but it is now looking more and more like the UML itself has been subsumed by the Maoists. Pushpa Kamal Dahal earned legitimacy from the unification with the UML, returned to a position of power after elections in 2017 that he would have lost if the Maoists had contested alone, and he managed to muffle accusations of war crimes.  For its part, the UML by uniting with the Maoists has sacrificed its social democratic credentials, and its silence in not condemning last Friday’s terror bomb speaks louder than words. The UML’s strong party structure has been compromised, its local committees are in limbo.Meanwhile, the Maoists within the NCP are not socialised into democratic functioning and essentially remain a sub-party taking orders only from Dahal and not from Oli. In fact, the ex-Maoists are doing everything in their power to embarrass the former UML, and have let Oli be their lightning rod.  The Home Ministry which should have been the first-responder in last week’s bomb attack and arson on telecom towers is run by a Maoist commandant-turned-minister who used to be Biplav’s buddy. He is the last person to go after the one who gave the order to bomb Ncell and kill Sing Prasad Gurung.It is time Prime Minister Oli defended the social democratic values his party once stood for, reshuffle his Cabinet to get a minister with cleaner democratic credentials, and if need be, start thinking about post-nuptial arrangements.

Kunda Dixit

It’s a crime not to call it terrorism

<figure><img width="1250" height="932" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28b69c7e80680e045889jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: NAGARIK</figcaption></figure>Editorial in Nagarik, 26 FebruaryThe Nepal Communist Party Maoist led by Netra Bikram Chand (Biplav) has resorted to violence in over a dozen locations to set fire to Ncell towers. A civilian has already lost his life, and two more are wounded. These incidents cannot be taken lightly. The government must strongly stop this violence. The Biplav faction has tried to justify its action by claiming that it wants to punish Ncell for failing to pay capital gains tax. But the reality is different. This is a repeat of the Maoist conflict during which people who refused to pay up could be killed.Netra Bikram Chand was close to the current Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa who may still have a soft spot for him. It remains to be seen if the Home Ministry will prosecute this case strongly. So far, the government seems to be hurt more by a few bitter words in social media than by such heinous acts.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/innocent-life-lost/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Terror attack leaves tragedy in its wake</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22190&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It’s a crime not to call it terrorism</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://extortion%20in%20a%20federal%20state/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Extortion in a federal state</a>“<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22189&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Yes, we put that bomb</a>”

Stop the extortion

<figure><img width="1400" height="931" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28b99c7e80680e04588ajpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SETOPATI</figcaption></figure>Kantipur, 26 FebruaryThe Nepal Communist Party Maoist led by Netra Bikram Chand (Biplav) has been sending letters to all rural municipalities of Province 5, demanding 2% of their development budgets. The letters claim to spend the money to install ‘scientific socialism’ as an alternative to parliamentary democracy.Many local level elected representatives are said to have already paid up, some from their personal coffers, others using their development budget. In a public hearing in Rupandehi recently, a municipality chief admitted to having paid Rs50,000 to the Maoists. The Biplav faction has been asking for three different types of donations: 2% of the development budget, up to Rs500,000 lump sum from the salaries of elected representatives, and a tender worth Rs10 million.Many local administrations in Gulmi have been extorted. After rising pressure, municipality chiefs have got local administration officers to pay off the Maoists. Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/innocent-life-lost/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Terror attack leaves tragedy in its wake</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22190&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It’s a crime not to call it terrorism</a>The party has also demanded 2% of the development budgets from six municipalities and two rural municipalities of Bardia. Party sources reveal that teachers and contractors have also been approached for donations.Although the problem is rampant in Dang, officers there do not want to talk about it. Some are giving what is asked, while others are trying to bargain it down.Mim Bahadur Gharti Magar of Rolpa municipality said the Maoists demanded a month’s salary from him, and half the infrastructure budgets from other local governments.Businesses in Banke are also being extorted. Said one trader: “We got a letter demanding money, it is sad that we are facing extortion and threats once again.”Read also: <a style="letter-spacing: 0.01em; background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-size: 15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22173&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stop the extortion</a>“<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22189&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Yes, we put that bomb</a>”

Extortion in a federal state

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28bc9c7e80680e04588bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1222"/><figcaption>Photo: SETOPATI</figcaption></figure>Interview in BBC Nepali service, 24 FebruaryThe Nepali Communist Party Maoist led by Netra Bikram Chand (Biplav) hs owned up to the Ncell bomb that killed one person in Lalitpur on Friday. The party’s central committee member Hemanta Prakash Oli spoke to Gani Ansari of BBC Nepali Service on Sunday evening. Excerpts:BBC Nepali: Why did you set off the bomb?Hemanta Prakash Oli: The blast was a retaliation against the company evading capital gains tax. A life was lost, but little things like that happen in revolutions. We are sad.How can you call that little? A man lost his life.No, we did not say this was a little incident.But that is exactly what you just said. I said such things might happen. But we do not target people, it was an accident. We are very sad about the loss of life, and have already expressed our condolences.Can you bring back this person’s life by saying sorry?The lives of thousands who died in Syria cannot be brought back either.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22190&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It’s a crime not to call it terrorism</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://Extortion in a federal state" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Extortion in a federal state</a>Instead of violence there are other ways to address tax issues.No government agency has paid any attention to this looting. The judiciary is itself tainted. We have declared a parallel government because this one is unjust.The state has threatened to come down heavily on your party.If the government reacts to injustice with injustice, the Nepali people will retaliate strongly. We will demolish the state and establish a new state structure.How many more innocent people will have to die to fulfil your political ambition? This is a question that we should ask Prachanda, Baburam and Badal as well. They took 17,000 lives unnecessarily. They should be punished. And we will be more careful that such accidents do not happen again.Why could you not wait for dialogue before resorting to violence? The government does not want to negotiate with us. What we want to talk about is that 17,000 people sacrificed their lives for the revolution and we controlled 80% of Nepal. We had a strong army of 40,000. We want to reinstate the revolution. We are ready to negotiate on these terms. We wanted revolutionary change, but instead of class struggle, we had class reconciliation. Our leaders joined with reactionaries and rose to power.People also say this is all about extortion.Do not believe these rumours. We did not take up this risky path of revolution for a few donations.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/innocent-life-lost/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Terror attack leaves tragedy in its wake</a><a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=22173&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Stop the extortion</a>

“Yes, we planted that bomb”

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

Kangchenjunga: too sacred to climb?

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

Water for Life

Turkish Airlines has been presented with the Sustainable Financing Pioneer Award by Ishka, recognising its landmark transaction that, for the first time, integrated a sustainability-linked loan structure into a multi-currency JOLCO financing model for the acquisition of two next-generation, fuel-efficient Airbus A321neo aircraft. This innovative transaction, arranged by Societe Generale, links the financing terms to Turkish Airlines’ Sustainability Performance Targets (SPTs), particularly the goal of reducing carbon intensity across its fleet.
&nbsp;&nbsp;“We believe this structure not only supports our fleet renewal and growth objectives, but also reinforces our long-term commitment to becoming a carbon-neutral airline by 2050,” said Chief Financial Officer Murat Şeker.

Turkish finance

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

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