<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141112/636ba7959c7e80680e073790jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="426"/><figcaption>Photo: Jan Møller Hansen</figcaption></figure>Sometimes it can feel as though Nepal goes through endless cycles that bring us back every time to the place where we started. Maybe we just need more years to look back and see the progress.But up close, we seem to stand still. The present moment is like that. Consider these needs that remain urgent, yet have been forgotten:- The need for independent commissioners to deal with the demand of conflict victims for transitional justice, and the permanent need of society for the rule of law- The need for independent police accountability mechanism to deal with the way democratic rights are sometimes repressed, especially during this Covid-19 crisisBoth pre-requisites continue to be urgent if this country is ever <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/just-not-justice/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/just-not-justice/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGtLWBs7Xus1L_zPT0WtkitV5kdIA">to deal with impunity</a> and the daily humiliations of injustice that go unanswered. But we have been diverted time and again by petty politics.It is now two-and-half years since the elections that led to the creation of the Nepal Communist Party. Many saw this as a decisive moment, a time when we left behind our turbulent past and unified Nepal to bring prosperity.Some saw an opportunity at last for a ‘peace dividend’. In the international community, many considered it as a harbinger of stability, which would allow them to finally fully implement development programs free from the disruption of war and political intrigue.Very few were alert to the risks to human rights. It was almost as though political commentators and the diplomatic community shared the view that the political stability they thought was assured for the foreseeable future would automatically lead to a sudden respect for rights.These days, the pandemic is occupying people’s thoughts. Nepal faces grave risk as the disease spreads, and there is an urgent need for appropriate and effective countermeasures. But even before this massive unforeseen shock to our society, political stability and respect for human rights was looking less and less certain. In the past few months the uncertainty is even greater.One of the costs of ‘stability’ has been<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rights-groups-laud-nepal-supreme-court-ruling/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/rights-groups-laud-nepal-supreme-court-ruling/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGRsGP_JdoKTy2P5hcxFIywbmrKKQ"> transitional justice</a>. Remedy for victims of the conflict was put on hold after 2006, and especially two years ago, before the pandemic appeared on the scene. The promised truth commission has failed to deliver. Many of us had hoped that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-in-transition/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-in-transition/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGglmiYgU0GqwUo5BNdPUdaNVZGvQ">truth telling process</a> would be the foundation for institutional reforms in the justice system that had been put off year after year since the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/page/36/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/page/36/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFhkaxpPA84enmCgy6J2kws8NXaTQ">Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA)</a> of 2006.The marginalised in our society are denied access to justice, notably minorities such as Dalits and women victims of violence. Legitimate public protest is still met with harsh and excessive use of force by the police. Convictions in the courts still largely depend on confessions under torture and cruel treatment rather than proper, non-coercive investigation -- still a rare skill in Nepal to the shame of all of those involved in efforts to improve public security for all.Political, social and economic instability have gone hand in hand with violation of basic rights. They are mutually supporting dynamics.Since 2006, more and more Nepalis have come to rely on remittances from family members working overseas for their economic survival. This safety valve is now in doubt because of the economic downturn caused by the global pandemic.The idea that political stability and prosperity would put an end to human rights violations was always a pipe dream. A society with such entrenched discrimination is always going to find consensus difficult, and end up resorting to violence and coercion to maintain the status quo, or to resolve inevitable disputes.We can all agree that Nepal faces a difficult short and medium-term future. All human rights defenders now need to consider some key fundamentals:- Political infighting in the leadership can easily generate protests and counter-protests where human rights violations are common- The power struggle can impact political harmony at provincial and local levels which can lead to a higher risk of conflict- The health and economic crises risk endangering social stability. Medical staff are already at the frontlines of disputes and must get full support from the state and civil society to help them carry out their tasks, which are a matter of life and death not only for their patients but for the whole country.All this is also happening in a wider context of rising geopolitical tension between our two neighbours. On top of all the crises at home, we are now also living in a region which feels a lot less stable than it did a year ago.If we are to come out of this crisis stronger, some lessons will need to be learnt, and fast.Human rights defenders need to find better ways to work together and to set common agenda and activities which address the priority problems that our society is facing, including pervasive discrimination. Such injustice is real and corrosive, and most Nepalis suffer some form or other of discrimination every single day, wherever they live and whatever their occupation. Discrimination is like a ball and chain on the ankle of the country which slows our progress.This should also be a moment of reflection for our international friends who in the past have given such valuable support for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-transition-to-peace-needs-justice/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-transition-to-peace-needs-justice/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHHjkC_zEjI8bw-PwG570G1FgPMsw">peace process and the defence of human rights</a>. As the <a href="https://www.nhrcnepal.org/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nhrcnepal.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEOabp5mzf2S4-IxxXBLGjQcf5pBw">National Human Rights Commission</a> (NHRC) international conference of 2018 indicated clearly, little or no progress has been made since the CPA on impunity -- the biggest obstacle in establishing genuine rule of law with equitable access to justice. Law and order cannot be maintained by harsh policing and ever more draconian legal restrictions on privacy and personal rights.We need to learn from the crisis which is upon us after two years of false promises of stability and social peace. We are no nearer to our common goal of rule of law than we were 14 years ago.Probably the most important step we can take once public health conditions allow, is to ensure that a genuine transitional justice process is finally implemented to mark the end of arbitrary governance and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/amnesty-on-nepal-impunity/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/amnesty-on-nepal-impunity/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGXUvh7Qv8HPrhYFlIzKg-vT4i2GQ">the end to impunity</a>.Our international partners have to give top attention to the fact that without rule of law, it will be hard to achieve economic development and investment. Respect for human rights is the foundation of Nepal’s economic progress and social harmony. We need our partners to be actively, constantly and transparently <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEeJv7d9e9j38e65VAtjAYQeCs-Mg">promoting transitional justice</a>, human rights and rule of law.The international community must make it clear to our leadership, with one voice, that they believe investing in Nepal is not an attractive prospect if a repressive and discriminatory justice system damages stability. The prospect of political stability does not remove the need for active promotion of human rights. The opposite is the case.One good starting point would be for human rights defenders and the international community to strongly urge a proper selection process, with civil society participation, for the new NHRC later this year.The same is true for the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rocky-transition-to-justice/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rocky-transition-to-justice/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1598491315641000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGjI50aSrYxicT7JYce-kNXMFQmzA">transitional justice commissions</a> and the constitutional commissions. The crisis of political stability must lead to a reflection on the errors of the past two years and teach us that without active promotion of human rights there is unlikely to be much progress in any sector in Nepal.With rule of law and justice, there will be progress. Without justice and respect for human rights, there will be nothing.Mohna Ansari is Commissioner, National Human Rights Commission of Nepal.

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Nepal must reboot human rights, rule of law

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41ab9c7e80680e04a68bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="519"/>The organisational infrastructure of the court system is of critical importance for the success of Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/federalisms-birth-pangs-or-death-rattle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">new constitutional order</a>. It is in the lower courts that people come face to face with the judicial branch of government, and where the ordinary and routine forms of justice most directly affecting daily life are in practice. Subnational courts therefore should not be forgotten in considering the judiciary’s irreplaceable role in instilling a commitment to the rule of law and encouraging a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/grassroots-democracy-is-delivering-development/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">new way of doing politics</a>.Nepal’s network of 77 district courts is the gateway for virtually all of the country’s litigation (85,000 cases in 2017-18, over which district courts oversaw final resolution to 60%). Yet both in resource allocation and in public imagination, these courts are the most neglected. It is remarkable that a mere 241 judges discharge the enormous workload.Read also:Part 1: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Federalism, rule of law and the judiciary</a>, George Varughese and Iain PaynePart 2: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/constitutional-guardianship-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Constitutional guardianship in Nepal</a> , George Varughese and Iain PayneWhile the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/share-rule-and-self-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">2015 Constitution</a> has changed the executive and legislative, the court structure has not undergone significant revision, except to add two district courts — for a total of 77 — and to refashion 16 appellate courts as seven high courts with their 11 benches extended across respective provinces.The subordinate courts now have slightly enlarged purview. For the first time, provincial high courts will be able to hear public interest litigation, hopefully lessening some of the Supreme Court’s caseload burden. District courts now supervise all justice institutions, formal and informal, below the district level.District courts also have increased authority to oversee criminal offences punishable by more than one year imprisonment, many of which were previously adjudicated by quasi-judicial bodies like the district administration office. They have new jurisdiction over some civil matters previously supervised by the district executive.Critical access-to-justice issues have been inherited from the previous governance setup. For example, the geographical inaccessibility of the district courts, which remain the lowest court in judicial hierarchy and sit at the now obsolete district headquarters, are one of the key reasons why only a fraction of disputes tends to be registered with the proper court and judicial authority. The judiciary’s absence in municipal government is glaring and hardly addressed by the presence of so-called judicial committees, which fall under the municipal executive.Moreover, wholesale state restructuring must take into account roles and responsibilities of different justice sector institutions at the local level, and the judicial branch’s reflections on these would be timely in guiding other branches of government. This is especially the case with regard to judicial committees in 753 locations, about which inconsistent visions are projected in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/constitutional-guardianship-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the Constitution</a> and the Local Government Operations Act of 2017— the federal framework legislation that presently guides local government operations. This is also the case with the option provided for in the Constitution allowing the creation of local courts if required. The judicial branch’s reluctance to provide guidance on constitutional provisions for accessing justice beyond district courts could result in costly adjustments.These issues need to be addressed to guide the creation of a coherent and coordinated system for accessing justice locally, one that builds community and citizen trust in the entire justice sector and positions the judiciary in its rightful place in government. The lowest rungs of the judicial branch carry the greatest burden in making justice more accessible to more people. Much work, therefore, remains to be done to ensure that the promise of bringing all three branches of government closer to the people is fulfilled.Renewed commitments to judicial independence headlined the recently concluded National Conference of Judges. However, aside from the hot-button topic of judicial appointments that dominated discussion, only a few creative ideas emerged. Perhaps the most federally relevant of those related to empowering provincial courts to settle disputes between provinces and municipalities. Ideas such as this, while nascent, indicate that the judiciary may be willing to look for ways to be more responsive to the needs of the changed governance context.With a recently appointed Chief Justice and remaining vacancies filled, Nepal’s Supreme Court is drafting its fourth strategic plan with more stable leadership and better prepared justices than ever before. This will drive the judiciary’s institutional vision, direction and contribution to democratic government in Nepal over the next five years.Previous strategic plans have focused on court administration, caseload management, infrastructural and modernisation needs, and training programs. These remain necessary but will be insufficient to fulfil the difficult role of rethinking and reworking access to justice in a federal context. Oversight of the judicial functions of the state — wherever those may be located — is a key strategic metric of performance of the judicial branch.More difficult will be the deep institutional introspection and principled actions required to assert independence while exercising guardianship of the rule of law. It is vital that the judicial branch of the government sees itself as a trusted partner of both state and society, with its functionaries embracing their role as ‘justices of the people’ and not just of the court.Only then will a constitutional culture shaped by the rule of law translate into access to justice in federal Nepal.This concludes a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">three-part series</a> by Iain Payne and George Varughese who are associated with <a href="http://nitifoundation.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Niti Foundation</a>.

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Devolving the judiciary

<figure><img width="1250" height="1145" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121140/636a40489c7e80680e04a610jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Pic: Bhanu Bhattarai</figcaption></figure>The 2015 Constitution and arrival of fresh political leaders through nationwide elections in 2017 promised a more equal and inclusive New Nepal. Political power would be devolved from elite-captured Kathmandu,  and development balanced across all regions of the country, with greater appreciation for religious and ethnic diversity and increased participation of the marginalised in governance.There is broad acceptance that this ongoing transformation will have durable effects on the quality of the country’s governance. Yet there remains widespread anxiety that those now in decision-making positions in government will shirk their responsibility and opt for cosmetic adjustments rather than fundamental change.Part 2: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/constitutional-guardianship-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Constitutional guardianship in Nepal</a>, George Varughese and Iain PayneThe Constitution promises to bring government closer to citizens through a new federal structure wherein federal, provincial and local governments are coequal.  With 753 local governments, seven new provinces, and local and provincial assemblies with more than 35,000 elected representatives, the executive and legislative levels of government are now functional and more visible to citizens.However, minimal attention has been given to the judiciary’s key role in impelling constitutional values in government — starting with the rule of law and access to justice — and contributing to the success of the ongoing transformation.This is neither mysterious nor casual: neglect of the judiciary is quite usual in Nepal. The undermining and sidelining of the judiciary over many years is part of a sordid story of collusion by political parties across the spectrum to weaken, co-opt and subordinate state institutions that deter impunity and constrain opportunism.A quick measure of this neglect is the steady decline in the already-meagre annual allocation of state resources for the judiciary, today at its lowest levels of funding in years — a mere 0.34% of the government’s budget, down from 0.57% in 2015-16. Continued failure to invest in this co-equal branch of government — the one meant to constrain unlawful action — undermines the transformational project of the 2015 Constitution.Three years after the adoption of a new Constitution it is also necessary for the judicial branch to consider its role in ensuring that rule of law and access to justice is better under federalism.While much hope has been placed in the 2015 Constitution, it cannot in and of itself transform the country’s constitutional and political culture, which has been shaped over decades of perverse governance praxis that accepts collusion and impunity, crises and destabilisation, and backroom deals and horse-trading as normal.New norms of politics must be embraced. The rule of law, and buttressing it the judicial branch of government, is at the heart of this reshaping of politics.The rule of law is concerned with the principled exercise and accountability of governmental power. It requires adherence to the laws of the land, beginning with the Constitution, by all.Elected representatives and appointed officials alike must abide by the same rules as everyone else, there is no special pass for those in power. Sadly, the main threat to federalism in Nepal is the absence of the rule of law, exemplified by ongoing abuse of the Constitution by those charged with protecting it.It has been persuasively argued elsewhere that the rule of law demands public justification for the exercise of public power. This process must be championed by the judicial branch as the expression of its own authority, one to which public actors and citizens must learn to conform. In the setting of the courthouse, the branches of government must justify the legitimate exercise of power and be able to defend their actions. The judicial process thus contributes to a constitutional culture in which the arbitrary exercise of power is discouraged.It is in this sense that the rule of law may be talked about as a value. It is a critical, missing feature of Nepal’s constitutional culture, one which the judicial branch of government must salvage, nurture and return to public service.This is the first of a three-part series by George Varughese and Iain Payne who are associated with Niti Foundation.

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Federalism, rule of law and the judiciary

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.