This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

My father’s son

Daniela-Mariana Sezonov Ţane was fascinated with the teachings of the Hindu epics, and studied Hindi at the University of Bucharest before joining the Romanian foreign service. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
In between, she served with the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in Nepal in 2007, the year after the ceasefire. Ţane is now Romania’s ambassador to Nepal, Bangladesh and India and is in Kathmandu this week to launch her book, Twilight Chronicles of which two chapters are about her time in Nepal. &nbsp;She spoke to Nepali Times about her impressions. &nbsp;
Nepali Times: How did you land up in Nepal with the ICRC?
Ambassador Ţane: My work with the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) lasted some eight years and took me to several countries affected by conflicts or in post-conflict time. The mission in Nepal was the third one, after one year in the Tigray region of Ethiopia and 10 months in refugee camps in Eastern Tanzania. In Nepal, initially I was assigned to work on the missing people file. In June 2007 there were still some 1,200 people unaccounted for. I did some field work for families of the missing affected by conflict, recipients of a small assistance program which was meant to help them out of dire poverty.
The last months of my mission were spent mostly in Tarai, preparing the ground with the Nepali Red Cross for the<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14692"> first elections in 2008</a> after the king’s abdication. If you remember, there was a lot of tension at that time because the Madhesi people felt underrepresented. We were making contingency plans in case there were violent clashes.
My most memorable moment is presented in this book, in the chapter Solukhumbu. Together with my Nepali colleague, Roshan, we went to search in a very remote area for the family of a minor girl who had been separated from her loved ones a few years before. She was rescued and kept by a humanitarian group in a shelter for unaccompanied minors supported by ICRC. She expressed the wish to go back home, so we needed to see if the family was still there. After three days of trekking, we found them in a remote ward, living in a very poor house.
In the meantime, more siblings had been added to an already very poor family. But the reaction of the parents, when they saw the photo of their missing daughter, now a teenager, was a very emotional moment, as well as the insistence of one of her schoolmates to give us a letter for her, next day early morning, before we would start our long journey back.
What I loved the most in my mission in this amazing country were the people. A real bond with my Nepali colleagues at the office was created, and I keep in touch with some of them even today.
After that you became ambassador, how did the book come about?
I started writing my Indian diaries, while posted in India as third secretary and cultural attaché at the Romanian Embassy in New Delhi, beginning of 2000. My friends wanted to know more than the emails sent sporadically. It also came out of the need I felt to make India easier to grasp by my fellow citizens. After being the guide of many delegations, I realised there is a need to better explain the countless puzzling, contradictory expressions and manifestations of India. I noted in my diary the people and the moments which marked me the most.
The entries about Nepal and Sri Lanka came naturally after that somehow. Writing made me explore the various cultural, religious and social aspects of those countries where, by staying longer than a tourist, I became adopted and felt like a local. I hope the readers will like the chapter dedicated to Nepal, a country that will always remain in my heart as one of the most beautiful places I have visited, with warm people and an amazing culture.
How is being ambassador to Nepal in peacetime different from when you were here with ICRC?
Working as a humanitarian comes with a lot of field work and direct contact with people at grassroots level. Time spent in the office alternates with time in the field. There is no diplomatic glamour, just hard work, sometimes in dire or extreme conditions, to which one needs to constantly adapt. As an ambassador, the perspective is totally different.&nbsp;
It means to run both an embassy, as a manager, cultivate the contacts in all areas and at all levels with the countries where you are accredited, and work towards the deepening of ties and economic cooperation. It implies a lot of protocol aspects, and the only common ground with the humanitarian word lies in the 100% requested dedication, leaving almost no time for one self.
Romania is now in the Schengen group, how will it affect Nepalis going to work there?
Belonging to Schengen means we have to apply strictly by the book the Schengen regulations for granting all types of visas. There is no exception from the need of physical presence at the interview and of presenting all the required documents demanded for every visa type.
Nepalis will continue to go to Romania for work, provided they have a valid work permit, and they pass the interview. Nepali workers are highly appreciated in Romania, they are <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis">currently more than 20,000 there working</a> in many sectors like hotels, restaurants, pubs and clubs, agriculture, supermarkets, construction. They are appreciated for their seriousness, hard work, good behaviour and pleasant personality.
How much interest do Romanian trekkers and mountaineers have for Nepal?
With the increase of living standards and of wages, the past decade witnessed a growing number of Romanians coming to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/ever-gone-wildlife-trekking-in-nepal">trek in the Himalaya</a>. I do not have any exact figures, but during the second wave of the pandemic in June-July 2021 we managed to evacuate some 60 Romanian and Moldovan trekkers and tourists with the help of our Honorary Consul General, Narayan Bajaj.&nbsp;

“The most amazing thing about Nepal are its people”

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be27f9c7e80680e083eafjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="595" height="501"/><figcaption>Illustration: SAMBHRANT BISTA</figcaption></figure>Nepali emigration conjures up images of migrant workers at construction sites in the Gulf or security guards in Malaysia. Falling between the cracks are the increasing numbers of Nepalis now in Europe.The volume of Nepalis going to Europe pales in comparison to migrant workers headed to West Asia or Malaysia annually, but their presence has been highlighted during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-diaspora-hit-by-covid-surge/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-diaspora-hit-by-covid-surge/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG_IuXzwm4IQtnSt0ZZ_O7yzT4E-w">Covid-19 pandemic when many Nepalis fell sick.</a>Romania, for instance, issued 29,800 work permits to foreign workers in 2019, of these <a href="http://igi.mai.gov.ro/ro/comunicat/evaluarea-activit%C4%83%C8%9Bii-poli%C8%9Bi%C8%99tilor-inspectoratului-general-pentru-imigr%C4%83ri-%C3%AEn-anul-2019" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://igi.mai.gov.ro/ro/comunicat/evaluarea-activit%25C4%2583%25C8%259Bii-poli%25C8%259Bi%25C8%2599tilor-inspectoratului-general-pentru-imigr%25C4%2583ri-%25C3%25AEn-anul-2019&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHo3EEdFx0D72F_IUyvC6hhsutQ-Q">4,324 were to Nepali workers</a> -- the second highest nationality after Vietnam.Similarly, <a href="https://wbj.pl/more-asian-workers-in-poland/post/126282" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://wbj.pl/more-asian-workers-in-poland/post/126282&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH90CN2BaZ6jXnfdV3MmvpL9h9EAQ">in Poland</a>, of the 69,000 work permits issued to Asian workers, 9,200 were granted to Nepalis who now make up the highest nationality. In 2019, the 2,273 Nepalis officially residing in Malta made them the fourth largest non-EU nationality on the Mediterranean island.The Honorary Consul General of Nepal in Romania, Nawa Raj Pokharel, is one of the 500 plus Nepalis who has tested positive after the onset of the pandemic. He spoke to Nepali Times from his hospital bed on Tuesday.“Workers in restaurants have been vulnerable to the economic fallout, but those working in warehousing, agriculture and construction have continued their work,” he said. “I have helped place workers who lost their jobs because of business shut-down or wanted to change employment with new employers. Unless workers are undocumented, they are eligible for unemployment benefits.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2819c7e80680e083eb0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1375"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2839c7e80680e083eb1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1375">A Nepali migrant worker in a park in Romania this summer, and a Nepali worker in a subway in Bucharest. In 2019, Romania issued 4,324 work permits to Nepalis, many of whom are now sick because of Covid-19.A Nepali who spent two years in Qatar paid a recruiter Rs550,000 for a construction job in Romania. Although he was promised a monthly salary of up to Rs150,000, he barely makes Rs60,000 as a steel fixer at a construction site in Bucharest. Recently, he tested positive for Covid-19, and his medical expenses are being borne by his employer.“At first, I thought it was just regular flu as my job requires me to work outside in the cold,” he told us on the phone. “Manpower companies in Nepal exaggerate earnings and made us falsely believe that access to other Western European countries will be easy once we are here.”Another Nepali worker paid Rs450,000 for a job placement in Romania, and says he could not afford the recruitment cost for other Schengen countries which was up to four times higher. Although he is getting unemployment benefits, he is worried he cannot pay back the loan he took to pay recruitment cost.He says: “My eventual dream is to make it to a Schengen country.”Consul general Pokharel, however, says he advises Nepalis here not to try to cross over into Schengen area no matter how much agents try to lure them. “About a dozen Nepalis have been deported after they attempted to cross over on their way to Portugal, three of them recently,” he says. “They will be banned from entering any European country for the next five years. It is not worth it.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2869c7e80680e083eb2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1175" height="601">In Poland, Rita works at a call centre servicing customers in the UK and US and is lucky to be able to work from home through the pandemic.“I make less than what I made while working at a restaurant,” she says. “But I am significantly happier because the 12-14 hour shifts were physically taxing. Now, I feel more relaxed and am excited about my work.”Ramesh works in a meatpacking company in Poland which closed down for three months this year during the pandemic. Luckily, he was provided 2,080 złoty ($555) a month to pay for rent and food. He says: “That is when I saw the merit in paying regular taxes and the benefits of having strong social protection.”Most European countries are going through a second wave this winter, and cases have exceeded 16 million with 371,419 deaths. So far, Poland has seen 876,333 cases, Romania  422,852 cases, Malta 9,137, and Portugal 264,802 cases.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be2889c7e80680e083eb3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1022" height="722">Unlike Romania, Poland is a transit country for many Nepalis who are headed into western Europe – most of them to Portugal given foreign workers can get residence and citizenship after five years. In fact, all roads in Europe seem to lead to Portugal, where there are now 16,849 Nepalis residing legally.Twenty-year-old Hari is one of them, and he also spent nine months working as a mason in Poland first before moving on. His roommate, Manab, 23 year old Nepali paid Rs1.5 million to a recruiter to get him to the Czech Republic, spend a day there and headed out to Portugal where he believes there is a clear path to citizenship and a better future.Officials records show that last year alone, 1,287 Nepalis acquired Portuguese citizenship – making them the <a href="https://sefstat.sef.pt/Docs/Rifa2019.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://sefstat.sef.pt/Docs/Rifa2019.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH-PFtiSt_DjKf5MBr5tMgZMfo8SQ">ninth biggest nationality in the country</a>.The dream of a EU ‘red passport’ however comes with a price, many Nepalis have it difficult adjusting to the language, culture, and grueling hard work in a farm. The recruiter usually takes a cut, but there is not much they can do about it. Most Nepalis soon move on to Lisbon and other cities to work in restaurants and cafes. Because they are eligible for unemployment benefits, many have got 70% of their salaries for five months of the Covid-19 lockdown.In March, Portugal decided to temporarily give migrants the facilities of full citizenship so they could access health and public service, a step which has received accolades globally. The country also <a href="https://www.theportugalnews.com/news/2020-11-05/provisional-legalisation-of-246000-migrants/56546" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theportugalnews.com/news/2020-11-05/provisional-legalisation-of-246000-migrants/56546&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHp4gTbHiGQ8B7l8TflNKdwILbDkA">temporarily regularised the status of 246,000 migrants</a> till March 2021, among them some Nepalis.With its mild climate and opportunities in the service sector, Malta is another destination for Nepali workers who want to use it as a stopover to western Europe. However, it is not as easy to obtain citizenship in Malta compared to Portugal.Nepalis like Ram, who worked in a store in Valetta have received unemployment benefits during the pandemic. Nepalis working less than 100 hours a month are eligible to get €600 from the Maltese government.“I am here just to earn and return home,” Ram told us over the phone. “My residence card allows me to visit other Schengen countries which is a bonus, but there many other Nepalis who are just waiting to secure a future in Europe for themselves and their families, and for them ease of obtaining citizenship plays a role in country selection.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be28a9c7e80680e083eb4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="683" height="910"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ironically, Nepali workers in Romania, Portugal and Poland are filling in for nationals of those countries who have themselves migrated out. The Poland-Germany, Romania-Italy and Romania-Spain corridors are in the ten largest migration corridors globally, leading to significant worker shortages in these countries.During the pandemic <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/15/romanian-fruit-pickers-flown-uk-crisis-farming-sector-coronavirus" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/15/romanian-fruit-pickers-flown-uk-crisis-farming-sector-coronavirus&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHxZtaOX3Itj_NlB_vvHtGAirzPtw">Romanians moved westward</a> to fill worker shortages including via special agriculture worker chartered flights to the UK and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/18/world/europe/coronavirus-german-farms-migrant-workers-airlift.html" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/18/world/europe/coronavirus-german-farms-migrant-workers-airlift.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1606375552722000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEKLJdVi2grvYIc1QSEDB40ulb1mg">Germany</a> to pick fruits and vegetables. The worker shortage they leave behind is being filled by migrants from countries like Nepal who pay big recruitment costs for job placements, and whose ultimate dream destination also happens to be the same western European countries.Nepalis took labour approvals to migrate to 127 countries in 2019/20, of which 94% was to the Gulf and Malaysia – most of these were intermediated by private recruiters. While 747 recruiters mobilised workers to Qatar and 497 to the UAE, the number of recruiters that placed Nepali workers to Poland, Portugal, Romania and Malta were only 66, 9, 14, and 9 respectively. (See chart)<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181124/636be28d9c7e80680e083eb5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="874" height="635"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Compared to our traditional destination markets, the recruitment process for Europe is cumbersome and lengthy, while chances of visa rejection are also high for Schengen countries,” says Sujit Shrestha, General Secretary of the Nepal Association of Foreign Employment Agencies (NAFEA). “This has deterred recruiters. Workers have to travel to India for their visas, which further complicates the process and makes it costly.”Non-Schengen visas for countries like Romania and Cyprus are almost guaranteed once the documentation is complete, but it takes months. The absence of Nepali missions in these destinations deters some employers as recruiting Nepalis requires mandatory demand verification from concerned missions.Shrestha is coordinating with the Foreign Ministry and the Labour Ministry to diversify recruitment to higher earning countries with strong labour protection as a priority.He says: “There is a good case to be made to simplify the process. There are significant employment opportunities in European countries that we can benefit from, but the procedural hurdles are too many.”

Upasana Khadka

Europe now favoured destination for Nepalis

Next to my home in Bhainsepati stood a dead Uttis tree next to a public tap. A nearby water tank built a year earlier had killed its roots.
If the tree collapsed, people living nearby and those queuing up to fetch water at the tap would be hurt. With the storm season approaching, the risk was obvious. The tree could also fall on my own house, so I volunteered to find a way to remove this threat.
Little did I know how difficult it would be. A forest officer acquaintance told me there is a special procedure for cutting risky trees. I contacted the Lalitpur District Forest Office (DFO).&nbsp;
He said a technical report from a field officer was needed, and passed on her number. When I called, she asked for the location, photos, and a video. I send them all.
The ward office also suggested I use Lalitpur Metropolitan City’s mobile app, Lalitpur Alert, to report the problem. I uploaded photos, and submitted the complaint. This seemed to be very easy and efficient.
Indeed, the next day the municipality called me back and I explained the situation. They said they could not act without permission from the DFO. I asked why the app existed if the city could not act on such complaints. The officer said he did not know. My happiness was short-lived.
A couple of days later, the app notified me that my problem had been solved, and the complaint was removed. But the dead tree still stood there defiantly.&nbsp;
A week later, two forest technicians arrived on a scooter to inspect the tree. They looked up at the tree and asked if I had a measuring tape so they could measure its diameter.
“You are the technicians,” I told them. “You came to inspect the tree, and you came without a measuring tape?”
I rummaged at home and found a tape measure. They got the diameter and said they would prepare a technical report, but I would have to obtain a recommendation letter from the ward office and submit it to the DFO.
“This tree is dead,” I told them. “It is on public land. You have seen it with your own eyes. You know it's dangerous, so write a report and arrange for it to be cut. Why do I have to run from office to office to apply for recommendation letters?”
Their answer was simple, yet expected: “Those are the rules.”
They left, and I gave up. Two technicians spent half a day visiting the site. The metropolis runs a complaint system with a mobile app funded with public money. The ward office has staff to solve problems. Yet none of these institutions took the responsibility to remove a dangerous tree.
Everyone is busy citing rules and regulations and passing the buck. Weeks passed. Everyone reacted to the problem, but no one took any responsibility to resolving it.
Then, one bright December morning under a deep blue sky, a few neighbourhood boys were swinging their axes on the trunk. They had no proper equipment, no safety gear, and no professional experience.
I gave the boys some money and so did a neighbour. It took an hour or so for the tree to come crashing down safely. We had paid to have the tree cut illegally, and the matter ended there.
Multiple government offices, technicians, procedures, and mobile apps could not remove a dangerous tree, and we had to break the law to cut it. The tree is gone now, but the real problem remains: an inefficient bureaucracy.&nbsp;
It is perhaps symbolic that the tree is the election sign of the Nepali Congress, which was part of Nepal's governance and bureaucracy for decades and did not perform well in this month's election.&nbsp;
That is the bureaucracy that the new RSP government now has to get to work. But it will not be easy.
I posted on Facebook: ‘When people feel leaders have grown arrogant or corrupt with power, they change their minds and their votes. If those who replace them follow the same path, voters will again change their minds and votes.’
I continued: ‘The strength of democracy lies in this simple principle: the more citizens act as independent voters, the stronger democracy becomes. The more they behave as party loyalists, the weaker it grows. If we want a better system, we must demand deep reform of the state bureaucracy and hold institutions accountable.’&nbsp;
The first responses came from two senior government officials. They told me privately that they agreed by 200% but could not say so publicly.
It is quite normal for a Nepali to get the run around in government offices, it is almost a given to be asked for a bribe. As an environmental reporter and citizen, I have numerous such examples.
It is not just one sector that has been suffering. It is everywhere, and this is just an example of how complicated our bureaucracy is. As a 40 something person, I am old enough to remember the 1990 pro-democracy movement, &nbsp;the Maoist insurgency. Many promises made then by the politicians were broken.
We fought for rights, we fought for regime change. The country has changed political systems several times, from monarchy to multiparty democracy and finally a republic.
Yet one thing that remains largely untouched or reformed is our inefficient and corrupt bureaucracy. The new government, to be led by the youngest prime minister in our history must start this reform if it wants to deliver.&nbsp;
Otherwise, we may have to keep changing governments every few years, and still find ourselves unable to legally cut down even one dead tree.

A dead tree tests Nepal's bureaucracy

The RSP and its prime minister are being sworn in this week after gaining an unprecedented election victory. This is a welcome change for many Nepalis who see it as a remedy to decades of coalition instability.&nbsp; Yet Nepal’s political history suggests otherwise. No majority government has ever completed its full term. This reveals a deeper structural problem: weakly institutionalised parties dominated by personalities rather than ideas. 1951: Dissatisfaction with the oppressive Rana regime among the educated elite led to the creation of political parties like the Nepali Congress (NC), Praja Parishad (later merged into the Nepali Congress), Gorkha Parishad, and the Nepal Communist Party.&nbsp; They emerged secretly, mainly in India during the height of that country’s independence. They organised a successful armed uprising against the Rana rule.&nbsp; 1959: The NC won a two-thirds supermajority in the first general election. Within a year, King Mahendra staged a coup and established the partyless absolute monarchy called the Panchayat system.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130332_a416ab5703287898f0566dc6d2a6b95d797ce2f4ed55bffcfae2e8edc7737c5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260322130332_a416ab5703287898f0566dc6d2a6b95d797ce2f4ed55bffcfae2e8edc7737c5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="675" height="849" loading="lazy" alt="Mahendra and BP"> </figure>  1991: After the People’s Movement, the ban on parties was lifted and Nepal became a constitutional monarchy. Elections were held under a new Constitution and the NC won 110 out of 205 seats, joining the United Leftist Front which functioned as a loose coalition.&nbsp; Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala’s first term ended with his resignation due to infighting, particularly with Ganesh Man Singh, who accused him of <a href="https://doi.org/10.2307/2645025" target="_blank">“emerging as a dictator, downgrading democratic norms and values, and even selling out national interests.”</a> Parliament was dissolved and the NC ended up losing the ensuing elections. 1994: Following the NC’s defeat, a <a href="https://doi.org/10.2307/2645025" target="_blank">hung parliament emerged</a> with the UML forming a minority government that lasted only nine months before collapsing after a no-confidence vote, allowing a NC-led coalition to return to power.&nbsp; 1999: Voters gave the NC a second chance and the party won 111 out of 205 seats. The party was divided between supporters of Koirala and Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, who became prime minister. &nbsp;The internal NC power struggle intensified and Koirala became prime minister again only to face bribery scandals, the Maoist insurgency, and the royal massacre.&nbsp; In 2001, under growing pressure from both the public and the party, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/20/world/nepal-premier-resigns-caught-in-chaos-after-royal-blood-bath.html" target="_blank">Koirala was forced to resign</a> to be replaced by Sher Bahadur Deuba. The party eventually split into Koirala’s NC and Deuba’s NC (Democratic). &nbsp;In this chaos, king Gyanendra dissolved the parliament and assumed executive powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130332_e107b95de5641044f72a13fd20f417d16b9a2d1ecbae3492126ee5fd4244bd84.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260322130332_e107b95de5641044f72a13fd20f417d16b9a2d1ecbae3492126ee5fd4244bd84" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="753" loading="lazy" alt="Deuba and Girija"> </figure>  2017: This was the first election under the federal constitution. The UML and Maoists created a surprise pre-electoral alliance, breaking the Maoist coalition with the NC. The left alliance won a massive victory with the UML winning 121 seats and the Maoists 53 seats. Prime Minister K P Oli fell out with Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoists. The House was dissolved, with the UML itself breaking into factions. What followed was seven shaky coalition governments in eight years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130352_8b09b374d7fcb811e0a652c7f60b30eea4b9052a19ed3d768ba8ca9aaeb4dec7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260322130352_8b09b374d7fcb811e0a652c7f60b30eea4b9052a19ed3d768ba8ca9aaeb4dec7" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Oli and Prachanda"> </figure>  2022: The RSP was formed only four months prior to elections, but managed to become the fourth-largest party. In this month’s &nbsp;election, the RSP won a commanding parliamentary majority by presenting itself to the electorate as different from the discredited old parties.&nbsp; The RSP leadership structure is largely personality-driven and opaque. Party leader Rabi Lamichhane joined the governing coalition with the Maoists and UML securing four ministerial positions. Lamichhane became Home Minister and Deputy Prime Minister, using his swing vote to be the kingmaker party in the coalition. Lamichhane was embroiled in various scandals which he blamed on political vendetta. There was internal dissent within the party and among supporters who felt the coalition betrayed RSP’s founding ideals.&nbsp; Lamichhane <a href="https://thediplomat.com/2023/02/key-ally-quits-government-in-nepal/" target="_blank">reportedly</a> bypassed the party’s internal mechanisms, unilaterally deciding to pull out of the government without broad consultation.&nbsp; The youth-led September protests gave the RSP an opportunity to represent GenZ aspirations, and its popularity was cemented after Balendra Shah joined the party as a prime ministerial candidate.&nbsp; With its dramatic election victory, there is a question whether the &nbsp;party can separate itself from its two leaders, and have internal democracy. Or will it just be a vessel for new political elites to continue staying in power?&nbsp; ‘BALEN PARTY’ The RSP has increasingly relied on the same tactics that the NC once used in its heyday. Backed by Balendra Shah’s meteoric rise to fame, the RSP is called ‘The Balen Party’. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/cyberia/rsp-s-pr-list-is-not-good-pr" target="_blank">RSP’s PR list</a> includes celebrities, actors, singers, pageant winners, business personalities, and athletes to maximise visibility and public appeal. Many of these soon-to-be MPs have little to no experience working in government, or together as a team. Which is perhaps why they needed a two-day orientation last week. In today’s attention economy, political currency depends on visibility. This is why the RSP’s strategy to harness Shah’s popularity was necessary to secure victory, while Shah needed a political platform for the election.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130348_abd1522a1f4f8ad4a0861c3916d86bd9688deafc7c44081b976378405d2b8e39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260322130348_abd1522a1f4f8ad4a0861c3916d86bd9688deafc7c44081b976378405d2b8e39" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Balen and Rabi"> </figure>  Political parties are essential for a democracy, but when they &nbsp;revolve around one dominant leader, internal institutions become weak, and decision-making becomes centralised in the leader rather than in party committees, rules, or ideological platforms.&nbsp; This is exactly what led to the downfall of the NC and the UML. Both over the years were ridden with inter- and intra-party strife and failed the electorate. RSP must take a lesson from this and unite to institutionalise beyond its two personalities. Or it will suffer the same fate as the legacy parties. Since its inception, RSP has espoused a populist and anti-establishment agenda. The ‘new’ RSP with the Balendra brand gained massive support by being a clear ‘other’.&nbsp; The RSP can fall into the same trap as the NC and the UML by defining itself by what it is not, rather than what it is for. Beyond the external enemies they oppose, these parties often struggle to articulate what they actually stand for.&nbsp; RSP positions itself as an alternative to established parties — a pragmatic, results-oriented political force rather than one driven by traditional ideologies. However,<a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/abs/theorizing-in-comparative-politics/parties-and-ideology/8386083191B53EC86A239B8852D4A6A6" target="_blank"> ideology gives a party identity and direction.</a> Without ideological grounding, RSP risks becoming a hollow vessel for power-chasing politicians who oppose each other’s every move, a story that is all too familiar.&nbsp; RSP can no longer define itself as being anti-establishment. It is now the establishment.&nbsp; While RSP might look like Congress 2.0 to many who have seen Nepal’s democratic trajectory, RSP does differ from past majority parties in both positive and negative ways.&nbsp; Times have also changed. Nepal is no longer a monarchy, literacy rates are much higher, social media has made information more accessible, and Nepalis are less forgiving, as seen by the events that transpired on 8-9 September 2025.&nbsp; The RSP has fielded more qualified candidates, and they could steer the country in the right direction. Many are experts in their fields and have had years of experience prior to joining politics. Having experts from such different backgrounds is a huge asset.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260322130352_426011e8c377bffcef6fcb4371325b36fb940eb5a8ab66d3c76ff5cf6f1943c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260322130352_426011e8c377bffcef6fcb4371325b36fb940eb5a8ab66d3c76ff5cf6f1943c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="RSP new MPs"> </figure>  Moreover, having MPs from various other parties/fields can also prevent a cult following of hardcore loyalists within the party.&nbsp; There are members loyal to certain RSP leaders in the party, but there are also those who will not hesitate to go against their leaders if need be. The RSP has little opposition in Parliament, so its own members may have to take on a check-and-balance role. Nepal is in a much better spot institutionally compared to what it was like back in the early days of its democracy. There is a Constitution, there is no active conflict, the monarchy is no longer an existential threat to democracy, and the local and provincial governmental bodies have had the time to settle.&nbsp; This means the RSP is in a better position to work without the basic institutional hurdles that previous governments faced, but it will not be able to hide behind institutional issues if it fails to deliver.&nbsp; In the past, majority parties could easily pin the blame on an authoritarian monarchy, a Maoist conflict, a lack of consensus during the constitution-building process, or a newly implemented federal system.&nbsp; Most of these were just excuses for incompetency. Governments were formed and fell based on self-serving negotiations, but they managed to keep the parties afloat, and the citizenry was willing to give them a second, third, or even fourth chance.&nbsp; The RSP will not have this privilege. Nepal has many problems, but its governmental bodies are better institutionalised than when the NC last had a majority. A challenge for RSP now would be fixing broken institutions, not building new ones. A recurring issue during Balendra Shah’s tenure as Kathmandu’s mayor were his <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/politics/2026/01/28/can-nepal-s-viral-mayor-run-the-country" target="_blank">disputes with the bureaucracy</a> that resulted in months of unpaid salary for KMC staff, a lack of collaboration between him and Deputy Mayor Sunita Dangol, and rarely any public appearances.&nbsp; The RSP is inheriting a bureaucracy tainted by deep-seated patronage networks. Sustaining a government requires institutional collaboration and a willingness to work together, not disruption and division.&nbsp; While Nepal has seen the rise of many populist figures in its democratic history, the RSP’s victory based on Balendra Shah’s fame is new. Populism is usually harmful for a democracy because it punishes dissent, turns criticism into betrayal, and fuels hyper-nationalism, authoritarianism, and polarisation. A trend of punishing criticism is already visible on online spaces. Without an effective parliamentary opposition, the responsibility for democratic accountability will fall on the media and civil society. If the trend of intolerance to criticism deepens, Nepal risks sliding toward a majoritarian politics where popularity replaces accountability. Time and again, the Nepali people have given opportunities to parties that promise change, only to face disappointment. Nepal’s political history shows that majority governments fail not because they lack seats, but because they lack institutions.&nbsp; The electoral earthquake Nepal just witnessed could bring sweeping reforms or drown the country’s fragile democracy. If RSP hopes to succeed where others failed, it must build a party that outlives its founders. Suvexa Pradhan Tuladhar is an Early Career Policy Research Fellow at the Nepal Institute for Policy Research (NIPoRe).

Will it be different this time in Nepal?

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

People’s power

Deadly floods two years ago along the southern fringes of Kathmandu Valley killed 200 people. Climate change was blamed, but the destruction was magnified by quarries and sand mining owned by local politicians and crony contractors. Disaster mitigation and environmental risk was not a priority for any of the political parties that ran and won Nepal’s election last week. Although the RSP has a supermajority, rural municipalities that grant mining contracts are still ruled by the established parties that supply aggregates and sand to feed &nbsp;Kathmandu’s construction boom. Here in Lele Valley, residents are worried about another monsoon season that will start in June and fear more floods bringing unmanaged gravel from quarries down the Nallu River.&nbsp; The house of Sanumaya Nagarkoti, 65, and ten neighbours were washed away by the flood on the night of 28 September 2024. She and her husband petitioned the ward and municipal council to remove the crushers but no one listened. The slopes above are scarred by landslides from two years ago, and the banks of the river are strewn with bounders the size of cars that were brought down. “We live in constant fear of landslides,” says Chakra Nagarkoti, “the heavy crusher machinery and tipper trucks also constantly shake the house.”&nbsp; Google Earth images show that 24.6 hectares of mountain flanks have been excavated since 2010, and despite the disaster no lessons have been learnt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260319090348_bdce7f17500eadac0ce0814c32c2b4190d01325976fd4d29db9985148459c0bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="907" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  The RSP might have got a near two-thirds majority in Parliament but decision-making at the community level is controlled by politicians in cahoots with contractors.&nbsp; Along the Mahadev Khola, the Department of Mines cancelled excavation permits for crushers citing flood and landslide risk. Yet there are still 21 contractors mining stones and sand.&nbsp; Nearby Godavari Municipality also instructed operators who had not renewed permits to close down. No action was taken. One of them is Vinayak Multipurpose which delivers aggregate and stones for United Cement. Local ward chair Milan Silwal, has a stake in Vinayak and locals accuse him of taking the side of industry.&nbsp; Another slope is being gouged out near Mahadev Khola, and comparing satellite imagery from 2010 shows that the scar on the mountain is now five times bigger.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260319090348_21a8f7f7f9d6cc784c35719da737b20283f934bbe16c9de971d91bf01012499a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>United Cement operating near Mahadev Khola. Photo: ARCHANA DARJI</figcaption> </figure>  Nearby stands the lone house of 55-year-old Sabina Tamang, who lives with her husband and daughter. Due to the sound of the stone-breakers, they cannot hear each other speak. “Last year, a landslide destroyed our cowshed and latrine,” she says. “Next it is going to be our home.”&nbsp; DRY SPRINGS Lele gets its water from several perennial springs which have gone dry in recent years. One of them is near where the cement factory quarries limestone. “We hardly get any water, and the little that does flow is murky and red,” says local resident Rajesh Shrestha. A parliamentary committee directive ordered excavation to stop 15 years ago after a similar flood to the one in 2024.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260319090352_af7da754299116578cc1dd91d5318ec337b69e74b0676599260b7c57c6ec6fd7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="494" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Lele over the years. Photo: GOOGLE EARTH</figcaption> </figure>  United Cement’s manager Hari Upreti says his company has fulfilled all requirements and has permission to mine 15 hectares of its own property and 4 hectares of government land. “We have the Department of Mines permit which is valid till 2036 and extract 1,600 tons of limestone every day,” says Upreti. “The local community knew about the mining and if there is a problem with springs going dry it is not because of us.” Environmental researcher Uttambabu Shrestha, however, says there is a direct correlation between the quarry operation and floods, landslides and dry springs.&nbsp; “Extraction should not be allowed without an environmental impact assessment, and companies must stick to set limits,” he says. Investigation of permits show that there is collusion between local officials and contractors. Godavari-6 Chair Bishnuman Maharjan has investment in two quarries and crusher companies operating along Nallu Khola. A paper trail links Maharjan also to Sagarmatha Stone Crusher and Mankamana Aggregate Industries. IMPUNITY&nbsp; Godavari Municipality published a notice in June 2024, instructing crusher companies to submit environmental reports within two weeks, covering initial examination and impact assessment. It also told them to pay local development fees and clear outstanding dues. The municipality even wrote to the Department of Mines clarifying that it had issued permits to only five out of 27 contractors. Within a month, the Department wrote to the District Administration Office (DAO) and District Police Office instructing them to stop illegal excavation, and sent a copy to the Lalitpur Division Forest Office. The DAO then wrote to Lalitpur Police naming Machindranath Multipurpose as operating illegally and should be shut down. There was no followup. The municipality then issued fines worth Rs 60 million to it and one other company for non-compliance. The companies stalled, disputing the calculations.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260319090356_6e96403d3c5be4aef4d030974d6d92029a0eb396deafd19c511978dae30dd3d2" data-rendition-name="original" width="4000" height="2250" loading="lazy" alt="Lele"> <figcaption>Another site of extraction near Mahadev Khola in Godavari. </figcaption> </figure>  Machhindranath Multipurpose operator Kedar Timalsina Shashi denies doing anything wrong, and says the landslides were collateral damage because of the steep terrain. When contacted Godavari Municipality Deputy Mayor Muna Adhikari declined to comment. It has been 10 years since Rajesh Shrestha, Nikesh Shrestha, and others raised their voices against the environmental destruction caused by the construction mafia. An agreement was finally reached two years ago between locals and mining and transport businessmen, stipulating that stone mines must close permanently by mid-2025. The agreement also stated that check dams must be built to manage mining debris, and damaged structures must be restored to their original state. Trees were to be planted at sites where stone mines had operated. But the mines in the catchment are still in operation with 500 tipper trucks working on the site every day, transporting stones and aggregate. Local youth have continued holding sit-in street protests and at Lalitpur DAO.&nbsp; After one sit-in, the mines closed for about a month but they started back up a month later.&nbsp; Birendra Maharjan owns one of the crusher units, and says he follows all environmental protocols. He told us: “You need stones to build, and we must dig to extract stones. Some trees have to be cut, people get employment, and besides, floods and landslides happen across Nepal.” &nbsp;&nbsp; Centre for Investigative Journalism – Nepal.