Kusum Devi Dagaura has chaired a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">community forest</a> group in Kailali for three years. In that time, the forest has thrived on her watch, but she has never been allowed to take any decision. The Mohanyal Community Forest Users Committee seven-member executive committee includes five women and two men. The men call the shots. “Sometimes they pretend to listen to us, but in the end, whatever the men say goes,” says Dagaura. As chair, she once suggested that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/adding-fuel-to-the-funeral-pyres">timber</a> from their forest be provided for free to the most underserved, including the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/reaffirming-affirmative-action">Dalit and indigenous communities</a>. But the men disagreed, and the poorest in the village had to pay to use timber they helped protect. Once Dagaura was assaulted during a dispute over <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-can-up-forest-cover-to-45-by-2030-duwuo37q">forest conservation</a>, and she asked the committee to bear the cost of treatment. The two male members refused. Dagaura is from the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu">Tharu community</a>, and a freed bonded labourer. She never went to school but learnt to read and write participating in an adult education program. Many community forests across Nepal are led by women, and rules require a woman to be either the chair or secretary of working committees, and that stipulates that half the members are women. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">Safeguarding the soul of sal</a>, Lila Nath Sharma The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities?fb_comment_id=2705189856162677_4626131784068465">Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN)</a> includes 22,415 community forests across the country, out of which 1,072 are headed by women. Kailali is among the districts with the most community forests in Nepal with 700 locally protected forest committees out of which 150 are led by women.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025011512010_adac73267cafcace9af323a7237b13b1cd18e0fdbb08753867a7895131f7f187.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025011512010_adac73267cafcace9af323a7237b13b1cd18e0fdbb08753867a7895131f7f187" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="482" loading="lazy" alt="Women in conservation (2)"> </figure>  Women have played a crucial role in forest conservation, and expanding Nepal’s forest cover, which has grown to nearly 46% of the country’s area from just 25% 30 years ago. Tej Rani Chaudhary is a member of the Hariyali Community Forest Users Group, which has a male chair and five women among the total eight members in the working committee. The forest was registered 20 years ago by Chaudhary and a group of women. “When we registered the forest, the men scoffed at us and questioned our ability to manage it,” &nbsp;recalls Chaudhary. “It wasn’t just unkind words, the men undermined our efforts by allowing their animals to graze in the forest and even smuggled logs out.” When the women resisted and brought the forest to a healthy state, the men took over control of the committee. Chaudhary says, “When the forest improved, we were forced to hand over leadership to the men.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/villagers-step-up-to-protect-nepal-s-tigers">Villagers step up to protect Nepal’s tigers</a> Women forestry committee members add that the men constantly belittle them, discouraging them from voicing any opinion during the working committee meetings. But the women are resisting. “Whenever we do not agree with the points being made during committee meetings, we simply get up and walk out in a group,” says Chaudhary. Women who chair or are members of community forest user committees say that despite being in leadership positions, they are tasked with forest maintenance and conservation, while men have control over the budget, accounting, and resource distribution. “They task the women with fire control, tree plantation, fencing, and conservation, without being paid anything,” says Dagaura of Mohanyal Community Forest. Karna Rawal, vice-president of the Kailali chapter of FECOFUN, says that men reject the authority and dominate the decision-making processes in 60% of community forests that are led by women. “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-leaders-unable-to-accept-women-in-power">The non-acceptance of women in leadership</a> is not just limited by male office-bearers, but also by other employees,” he admits. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/women-leaders-seen-but-not-heard">Women who lead </a>community forests also face pressure from family members and society. Jhuma Chaudhary, who heads FECOFUN’s Sudurpaschim Province chapter, says the role of women in Nepal’s community forestry success story is being undermined by discrimination. She says: “Women are actively participating in conservation, but have not yet been given control of resources that help manage our forests better. We must ensure that changes. Starting now.”

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

Women conserve, men still conservative

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720cca9c7e80680e0b788ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/><figcaption>38-year-old Ramkali Mahato from Babargunj, Sarlahi district has a keen interest in learning climate sensitive farming techniques. She has leased 1.33-hectare land for commercial vegetable farming. Photo: NISHANT GURUNG/UN WOMEN</figcaption></figure>Ramkali Mahato from Sarlahi in Nepal’s southern plains was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/child-marriages-up-during-nepal-lockdown/">only 12</a> when she got married. “As a daughter-in-law, I quickly learned to cover my face, stay indoors and not speak with the neighbours,” says Mahato.Going to school was no longer an option and she <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/">dropped out of seventh grade</a>. Within the first year of her marriage, Mahato had given birth to a daughter and in the next few years, she was a mother of three. With her husband away <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/people-to-people-at-india-nepal-border/">in India working</a> as a rickshaw driver, Mahato had the responsibility of caring for her three children and in-laws.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720ccd9c7e80680e0b788bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="126" height="150">Says Mahato: “With limited income, it was a struggle to ensure all of us had adequate food to eat. That is when I decided to take matters into my own hands, no matter what the community thought about it.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720cce9c7e80680e0b788cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption>Ramkali Mahato uses climate sensitive, modern farming techniques for better produce. She has built a climate sensitive plastic tunnel to grow off-seasonal vegetables and protect her produce from unexpected rainfalls and harsh cold.  Photo: NISHANT GURUNG/UN WOMEN</figcaption></figure>Mahato first bought a buffalo and started selling the milk to earn extra money, which she used to invest in more cattle. She also planted crops in a small piece of family land. “While farming added food for my family, most of my produce would go bad, I didn’t understand why. There was never a surplus to sell,” she recalls.In 2016, after learning about agriculture training being provided in her village, she joined with hopes of also receiving seeds and equipment for her farm. The training Accelerating Progress towards Rural Women’s Economic Empowerment (JP RWEE) was a <a href="https://www.unwomen.org/en">UN Women</a>-led joint program in collaboration with <a href="https://www.fao.org/home/en">FAO</a>, <a href="https://www.wfp.org/support-us/stories/donate?utm_source=google&amp;utm_medium=cpc&amp;utm_campaign=11709431918&amp;utm_content=115463949244&amp;gclid=EAIaIQobChMIo8bBttW19gIV3sEWBR0L_Ql9EAAYASAAEgI-xfD_BwE&amp;gclsrc=aw.ds">WFP</a> and <a href="https://www.ifad.org/en/">IFAD</a>.The training program focused on strengthening the leadership capacity of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-doubly-burdened-by-climate-change/">rural women farmers</a> at home and their respective communities and included climate-sensitive techniques like plastic tunnel farming that allowed people to grow off-seasonal vegetables.“The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/disasters-in-nepal-come-in-waves/">weather is so unpredictable</a> in Terai these days. We have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/post-monsoon-rain-ruins-nepals-crops/">unexpected floods</a> during summer and harsh winters when we do not see the sun for a month during the cold waves,” says Mahato, who now grows not only grains but also cauliflowers, spinach, chilies, gourds, okras, long beans and more in 14 tunnels she built in her farm.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720cd19c7e80680e0b788djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption>Ramkali Mahato installs bamboo as a form of support for her climber crops. Photo: NISHANT GURUNG/UN WOMEN</figcaption></figure>The produce from her farm is more than enough for her family and there is even surplus to sell in the market. Says Mahato: "My husband and I take the vegetables in an auto and sell them in the market in Lalbandi, the nearest city from our village.”In the training, Mahato also learned to make organic fertilisers at home using vegetable and other kitchen waste. “This is the best way to save the quality of the soil. I only buy it from the market when I am running short of it,” she adds.At present 38-year-old Mahato has leased 1.33-hectare land for commercial vegetable farming. But she had observed a sharp increase in her income from a mere Rs30,000 a year to Ts750,000 after she started implementing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/business/help-for-resilient-farming/">climate-resilient farming</a>.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/">Women and water</a>, Editorial Rachana Bhattarai, Programme Analyst at UN Women says, “Women and girls are taking climate and environment action at all levels, but their voice, agency, and participation are under-supported, under-resourced, under-valued and under-recognized. Within women, it is also important to ensure how this is impacting women based on their caste, ethnicity, class, and geographical location.”Outmigration of working-age men from Nepal’s villages has added to the burden of women but it has also allowed them to step into more <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/uncategorized/home-alone-in-dasain/">meaningful leadership roles</a> in their families and communities. They also play an important but often unrecognised role in agriculture that sustains nearly 80% of Nepalis.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720cd49c7e80680e0b788ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption>Ramkali Mahato with her family which she supports with income from her commercial farming. Photo: NISHANT GURUNG/UN WOMEN </figcaption></figure>The empowerment of women in agriculture is key to overall economic productivity, given the majority, 84.3% percent of women with any form of employment work in the agriculture sector.Since her commercial farming took off, Mahato has noticed a change in how her neighbours perceive her. “The same people who once spoke badly of me because I went out to collect fodder now ask my help to make plastic tunnels for their farms,” she says. “Many more people are also willing to trust me with financial loans now.”Earlier, Mahato was not confident about taking loans and many refused to lend her money. But she now comfortably manages her accounts and transactions. Her income, in fact, pays for her children’s tuition, the medical expense of her husband and rent of the leased farm.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101136/63720cd89c7e80680e0b788fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption>Ramkali Mahato wants her daughter to pursue higher studies and become economically independent. Photo: NISHANT GURUNG/UN WOMEN</figcaption></figure>Mahato is also the chair of Laxmi Rural Women Farmer’s Group and Hariyali Women Multipurpose Cooperative. Through these networks, she supports other women in her community to generate income through agriculture. In the aftermath of the Covid-19 pandemic, the network also served as a close-knit support group for women who are living in vulnerable situations or are victims of gender-based violence.During the lockdowns in 2020 and 2021, most people in the village let their sons study online but daughters had to help their mothers with household chores, but I didn’t differentiate between my children, says Mahato whose daughter just completed high school and the duo is keen about her college prospects.Adds Mahato: “I do not want my daughter or the daughters in my community to face the same challenges as I did.”The first phase of the project was conducted in Rautahat and Sarlahi in Madhes from 2016-2021 and the second phase will be implemented from May 2022 in Siraha and Saptari districts under the leadership of the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development and with support from Multi Partner Trust Fund. Nepal is implementing the Agenda 2030 for Sustainable Development and the empowerment of rural women is vital to the success of the SDGs.*While outlawed, child marriages and teenage birth continue to be culturally prevalent in areas of Nepal. <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/reports/ending-child-marriage-nepal%22%20%5Ct%20%22_blank">Studies</a> have shown that in disasters or crises, as families lose homes and livelihoods, parents are more likely to marry off their children in a bid to protect them and secure their futures.Subeksha Poudel is the communication officer with the UN Women Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepali-women-doubly-burdened-by-climate-change/">Nepali women doubly burdened by climate change</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Climate smart Ramkali Mahato

Nepal’s new political wave has been described in many ways: a generational shift, a technocratic shift, a shift in ideas, and a shift in political behaviour. Young leaders now sit in Parliament, many with international education and policy experience.
But amid this excitement, a quieter truth risks getting lost: this political transformation is also the ascent of people who, until recently, were the grassroots themselves.
For the first time, many of the people now sitting in government are not distant elites. They are people I have marched with, argued with, worked with, and been inspired by for more than a decade.
They are people who once stood ankle‑deep in floodwaters, not in front of press conferences. As optimism rises around the new government, we must not forget that the climate crisis has not slowed down. 
The monsoon is at our doorstep again. And if the disasters from previous years taught us anything, it is that climate impacts do not wait for political transitions. And our mountains and rivers do not care who sits in Singha Darbar.
What is different this time is who holds power.
During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">September 2024 floods in Kathmandu</a>, the first responders were not the state or development machinery. It was ordinary young people. A loosely formed WhatsApp network coordinated everything from dispatching mountain bikers to landslide‑stranded areas, to pooling relief supplies, to delivering materials to army bases for airlifting. These were citizens acting out of necessity, not mandate.
Many from that very network are now part of the government. As I have argued before in Nepali Times, top‑down climate responses in Nepal have always been too little, too late, and too disconnected from lived experience. The only proven path is bottom‑up, community-led adaptation where those who face the risks daily shape the solutions. 
International research backs this: community-based adaptation has been central to success stories from Bangladesh’s cyclone shelters to Vietnam’s mangrove restoration to the Philippines’ barangay disaster committees. The world has repeatedly learned that resilience grows from the ground up, not the top down.
RARE MOMENT
Nepal now has a rare political moment where people with lived experience of crisis sit in positions of authority. The real test is whether this lived experience becomes policy and immediate action.
The expectation should not be that these new leaders deliver because of their degrees. It should be because they remember where they come from and use their privilege to strengthen and fund local institutions, networks and people who kept this country functioning long before governments did.
The monsoon that starts in June will test the government’s commitment to governing from the bottom up. Will these new leaders govern the way they once volunteered — listening first, acting fast, improvising where needed, and involving those closest to the danger? Or will the weight of the state push them back toward the familiar comfort of top‑down plans and consultant reports?
The challenges are complex. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu" target="_blank">Climate change is driving displacement</a>, deepening poverty, and exacerbating gendered vulnerabilities. Climate adaptation, therefore, needs cross-sectoral solutions that understand how these issues intersect.
Long-term transformation is essential. Our major cities like Kathmandu desperately need a future where rivers are protected instead of mined, where an urban forest cools our heat‑trapping city, and where mobility focuses on sustainability, not just shiny EVs. Our mountain villages and terai lowlands deserve a community resilient to climate impacts, with livelihoods protected.
These require years of work. But immediate, life-saving measures cannot wait.
Will the government finally rein in the sand mining and quarrying upstream of the Rosi and Nakkhu Khola? Will someone sit down with the communities on the riverbanks and listen to the early warning signs they’ve learned through pain? Will climate adaptation be prioritised amidst political noise and competing crises?
Or will we find ourselves, yet again, mourning damage that could have been prevented? I have been inspired by many of the individuals now in government — they questioned old hierarchies, challenged worn‑out norms, and believed that things could be done differently. 
But while the faces in Parliament have changed, the bureaucracy has not. Development organisations and civil society groups have not. And those systems are slow: too slow for the speed at which our climate is changing.
So something has to give. And that shift must begin with remembering where this political movement came from: the grassroots. Those now in power must not forget the urgency they once carried in their bones. They cannot forget the feeling of wading into murky floodwater, holding a bag of rice over their heads. 
And it is our responsibility — mine <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/turning-green-policies-into-greenbacks" target="_blank">as a writer</a>, yours as a reader, and ours as citizens — to remind them. The real spark for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/measuring-climate-impact-on-culture-and-heritage" target="_blank">climate action</a> comes from personal stories of loss, fear, survival, and solidarity. And suddenly, those stories are no longer outside the halls of government. They are inside.
The question is no longer whether our leaders understand the stakes. They do. They lived it. The real question, as the skies grow heavier again, is this: What will we do with this moment?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/a-pre-monsoon-deja-vu">Rastra Raj Bhandari</a> is a co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya. He contributes regularly to Nepali Times on climate change.

Soon, the monsoon

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

This week, the RSP held a two-day closed orientation camp for its newly elected members of Parliament. The party has also decided to assign parliamentary and Cabinet roles to leaders only after the new MPs are sworn in on 28 March.&nbsp;
This means the new prime minister and his cabinet of 15 ministers are likely to be installed closer to the Nepali New Year, and the expectation is that it will also usher in a new era of governance and politics in Nepal.&nbsp;
Between now and then, there is much speculation regarding who will become new ministers and from which camp—Balendra Shah's or Rabi Lamichanne’s. Meanwhile, the final argument in the petition against the Rabi Lamichanne case revision is set for Thursday, with a verdict expected on the same day.
“In the past, parties did anything to form coalitions and to keep them from splitting ministries and appointing anyone they wanted to, even going against the spirit of the Constitution, but the RSP doesn’t need to partake in any such activities,” says political analyst Indra Adhikari.
Adhikari notes that governance failures in the past was often the result of coalition governments formed through political bargaining that meant the primary party often had to compromise on their agenda.&nbsp;
“But nothing is stopping the party from fulfilling its election manifesto,” she says. “And if they aren’t able to deliver, we know Nepalis are prone to protests, so another revolt is also a possibility.”
Journalist and author Mohan Mainali agrees that the everyday Parliamentary proceedings should go smoothly for new government because of their majority.&nbsp;
But there are questions as to what a near two-thirds majority allows the RSP to achieve in Parliament. Its 182 seats in the Lower House allows the party to enact and amend laws without hurdles and bypass Upper House’s request for Bill revisions. But the RSP has no presence in the National Assembly, and that means that its majority in the Lower House is not enough to amend the Constitution.&nbsp;
“The Constitution poses no obstacles for the RSP to work on improving governance, development and delivery,” says Mainali. &nbsp;“If they do show some performance, it will be easier for them to go into the next election and ask for a two-thirds majority to also amend the constitution,” he adds.
The last coalition government of the UML and Nepali Congress before the GenZ protests had been built upon a primary agreement to make amendments to the Constitution. So, depending on the nature of amendments, the RSP might find some support within the National Assembly at a time when some of the older parties, such as the Nepali Congress, have committed to supporting the new government as well as internal party reforms.
“What we need is a structural overhaul, from our laws and foreign policy to economy and security apparatus, and for this the RSP needs to champion collaboration and consultation for the sake of nation building,” says Indra Adhikari. “So it all comes down to the understanding and judgment of the RSP’s leadership. If they try to go at it alone, it will lead nowhere.”
To be sure, the provincial government could also clean up their act before the next local and provincial elections, which would help the older parties to regain some of their lost footing and rebuild trust.
As it stands, RSP lawmakers will also have to learn to work with each other. Mainali notes that the RSP not being bound by one clear ideology might lead to future problems, including the rumoured animosity between party president Rabi Lamichhane and prime minister-in-waiting Balendra Shah.
“Parties that came before the RSP had an ideology, whether they followed them or not, but the RSP is made of different kinds of people,” says Mainali. “If they are not motivated by a common goal of achieving something tangible in the next five years, it might be difficult for them to stay together.”
Adds Adhikari: “Balendra and Rabi don’t seem to be compatible. Rabi has already failed when it comes to the matters of governance, and Balendra won’t carry that burden. Additionally, there is a struggle between the two in terms of party hierarchy.”
Speaking at the closing of the two-day orientation, from which Balendra Shah was noticably absent, Rabi Lamichanne said that the RSP’s image as intolerant needs to be changed, and that the country is not heading towards totalitarianism but is in the hands of good, new people.
Regardless of the assurance, the general public has seen Balendra Shah and Lamichanne’s disposition in the last several years, and analysts are worried that their personalities and ambition might lead to an environment of increased intolerance.&nbsp;
As it stands in absence of a strong opposition, the responsibility falls on the media and the civil society to be the watchdog and play an effective check and balance role.&nbsp;
“Seeing how Balendra has ignored the media so far and Rabi has made inflammatory remarks in the past, they are probably more intolerant than the likes of Trump and Modi,” says Mainali. He notes that the party does not just have technical human resource and cyber army but a large number of dedicated supporters.&nbsp;
The media must thus continue to build trust by highlighting good work, educating the public on the importance of impartial journalism in democracy and debate any Bill purposed in Parliament, Mainali adds.&nbsp;
Says Adhikari: “The media should praise the government when they do well, motivate them, but it should also point out wrongdoings without fear, and provide recommendations to do better. Otherwise, absolute power corrupts absolutely, which we have seen happen happen in America with Trump and in India with Modi, where extremism has taken over and democracy has been curtailed.”

Balancing act

The sense of sight is front, centre, and everywhere else as hundreds of eyes follow visitors while they move from one painting to the next at Nikhil Bahadur Shakya’s ongoing exhibition at Siddhartha Art Gallery. Shakya has used blank canvases as well as partially-done thangka and paintings as a base for more than 50 works on display. The exhibit takes visitors beyond the physical world into a surreal spiritual realm. Shakya strips the human body down to muscle, tendon, networks of nerves, and skeleton. But all the while, eyes are a constant presence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031708034_dddbfedc57433dc528fbf032642abea4ee67e63875091b06a7804cecdc7716cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Artist Nikhil Bahadur Shakya with a visitor.</figcaption> </figure>  The central theme is self-reflection and the journey from one’s outward to inward self, and the works offer a glimpse into the artist’s world of mindfulness.&nbsp; Shakya grew up watching his artisan grandfather design jewellery, which he says cultivated in him an interest for art. During the Covid-19 pandemic, confronted by the fragility of life and the stark reality of death, his art took an introspective turn. The paintings have splashes of neon yellow, pink, red, orange, green, and gold, and Shakya combines them with black and white to create the human body, sunflowers, geometrical shapes, and the cosmos — turning these motifs into elements of devotion and spirituality. In Wheel of Life, Shakya adds to an incomplete thangka, contrasting traditional Buddhist devotional imagery with contemporary mosaic art to create a demon holding on to a wheel with a yin and yang symbol.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026031708034_f2a8e10c73aa83a67e5de06a3f0acff9aa35c1cda278b36fed76ed03e71a7014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nikhil Bahadur Shakya"> <figcaption>Wheel of Life (centre)</figcaption> </figure>  “I wanted to reflect the elements of life and the balance of good and bad in this painting,” explains Shakya. “I took a lot of time to complete this particular piece, but it felt as though my vision flowed out of the brush onto the canvas.” The neon colours used means that visitors can see his artwork under blue light as well, giving viewers a chance to look at a single artwork from two different perspectives. His Sunflower series draws from a field of blossoms, and the eyes stare back at visitors in an almost-hypnotic gaze. In An Ancestral Visit, Shakya goes transcendental to depict the connection of living beings to their forebears.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026031708038_0fbe465b3af872d04f699030ba093d97aad182221730aef535dbf7d059fb57cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1431" loading="lazy" alt="sunflower painting"> </figure>  “In my father’s last days, he was unwell and often unable to eat, it left his body very frail,” explains Shakya. “An Ancestral Visit was inspired by a dream in which I saw my father as his former healthy self. That dream made me feel deeply connected to my ancestors.” In another one of his works titled Devotion, a woman prays to a Shivalinga against a background of red-and-white stripes, which was inspired by the tradition of women being at the forefront during religious and spiritual ceremonies.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031708038_75e30a4fd339257fbc108e3a326f732fd33d25af0428add0d305b8b7824c558c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="devotion"> <figcaption>Devotion</figcaption> </figure>  In Sunyata, which shows a skeletal figure meditating as they are surrounded by flames, Shakya captures the chaos of the outside world with peace of the inner self. Shakya was compelled to create Sunyata when he saw a monk, his body thin and face gaunt, meditating peacefully. “Many viewers might find the painting frightening, but when they take it home, I think it will give them strength whenever they feel like they need it,” says Shakya. The exhibit also includes a gigantic painting of Masan Bhairav spread across two canvases, capturing the majesty of the original work housed at Banepa’s Chandeswori Temple. Shakya met the artist who painted it, and asked to reproduce it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026031708034_0216eac587827b02982f5addbd67c6f852fd7f9f47b477267ea7430d5f862a9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1030" loading="lazy" alt="art review"> </figure>  Geometric figures are another recurring motif on Shakya’s creations, which he says were inspired by mathematics textbooks from his school days. He says, “Art channels the strength of our minds and brings about change in our lives. My paintings reflect the fact that we are all made up of some madness, magic, and love.” Journey to a Visionary Artworld by Nikhil Bahadur Shakya Siddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal Till 6 April 11AM-5PM

rural-women

Women conserve, men still conservative

Climate smart Ramkali Mahato

Soon, the monsoon

People’s power

Balancing act

In the mind's eye