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.”

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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

During the 2022 election, populist candidates campaigned with algorithms and were elected mayors. In 2026, they are campaigning with AI-generated memes and videos. Four years ago, the idea that the most potent weapon in the next election in Nepal would be artificially generated clips of politicians beating each other up would have been science fiction. Yet, here we are: at a fever pitch of AI-based political content. Some are generated by the IT cells of political parties, while most are just produced and posted by young tech-savvy supporters of the new candidates. Most of them ridicule older leaders, and the predominant target is former prime minister K P Oli who was forced to resign after the September protests. On 20 January the TikTok account ‘iamfunnyman88’ posted a slapstick video in which former Kathmandu Mayor Balendra Shah is seen accosting ex-prime minister K P Oli with a giant bell (pictured), swinging it in Kung Fu Hustle style in what looks like Patan Darbar Square. Oli is sent splattered on the ground. K P Oli has become a symbol of the legacy parties and their aged leaders, and everything that is wrong with them. Balendra Shah represents the new protest candidate. The two are contesting from Jhapa-5, and it is turning out to be a prime ministerial race for 5 March. In another video, the RSP vs UML clash played out as a high-stakes war from the Mahabharat. Oli is a young warrior with a chiselled jaw and wearing a heavy golden armour ready to lead his followers to battle (pictured). A stylised Nepal flag flutters above him to the accompaniment of filmy dialogue.&nbsp; The videos are everywhere on TikTok, YouTube and Facebook. Many of the posts are hitting over 200,000 likes and 5 million views. Such content seems to be engaging more voters than speeches and door-to-door campaigning at the hustings. The videos are fake, but the numbers, and the attention they command, are very real.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013014010_ed52fe3248b54eb4f9f391ee718e874a86c1b98297dde203800ad7b114bdacda" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal election memes"> </figure>  At first, it looked like the RSP’s digital media presence was a joke aimed at getting easy-to-access publicity via the far-reaching arms of the algorithm. But it is looking like a carefully designed strategy promoting Balen Shah as the RSP’s star player in this election.&nbsp; In 2022, it was just for the mayor of Kathmandu. This time, Balen Shah is already being promoted in these videos as a winner who has defeated the legacy politicians.&nbsp; In previous elections in Nepal, political parties used to spend lavishly on the ‘masu bhat’ strategy — feeding heavy plates of mutton curry and rice to constituents in return for votes. Ideology was swapped for immediate caloric gratification often accompanied by free-flowing alcohol.&nbsp; But surely, the new voter is too sophisticated for this. Politicians insist they have rebooted their operating systems to serve this enlightened demographic. We are talking, after all, about the generation that brought down a government over 36 hours in September.&nbsp; The assumption is that young voters today are too aware and far too proud to trade democratic agency for something as crude as a plate of steaming mutton curry and rice.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013014014_983476ba334f895b64cd8ea34bd0ad79c1632c428feb119c84477d8e929eb057" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  But the question is: are voters today any different? Aren’t these social media memes digital versions of the masu bhat that delivers a dopamine rush to voters? Watching the videos is entertainment that delivers a state of bliss, a protest against what is old but no enlightenment about how to get to the new. &nbsp; The I-cannot-go-a-single-minute-without-checking-my-phone demographic has leaned firmly towards politicians whose main focus is to be a social media star first, and an accountable politician second. More than 70% of Nepalis have smartphones now and most are hooked on data plans. The public has acquired a taste for a different kind of masu bhat - the digital kind. Instead of being made to slurp up the free spicy, fatty goat curry with deep guttural satisfaction, voters are being made to swallow easy-to-digest online clips to make serious voting decisions.&nbsp; After all, it is more fun than paying attention to a candidate’s policy proposals and actually thinking critically about the candidates.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026013014014_eb3a9e0c50f4a47706a6695e78ae41556c3d9754c15d564d42fb0de3f4199999" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal elections meme"> </figure>  TURNING POINT An important moment for the evolution of this digital masu bhat is the 2020 pandemic. It was just six years ago that the entire population was cut off from physical interaction. The phone screen became the sole mediator of social existence.&nbsp; Technology changes what we see as important, and this prolonged immersion fundamentally alters our perception of reality, training us to accept the flattened, binary logic of the algorithm as a substitute for the complex, multisensory texture of political reality. What is on the phone has started to dictate the questions we ask and the answers we accept. If it is not on the phone, it is starting to look irrelevant. The memes manufacture consent. Gerontocratic politicians habituated to legacy media have not fathomed the implications of this new virtual world. Everyone has been swayed by a good story since the beginning of time. Now, the phone has allowed millions of Nepalis to tell, retell, consume, and remix stories that would traditionally have huge barriers to entry. Consider the vegetable vendor killing time between customers, Gen-Z youth with no memory of the Maoist conflict, or the grandad who cannot distinguish an AI video from real footage.&nbsp; When they finally step into the voting booth, what is guiding their hand? Is it a careful calculus of policy proposals, demonstrated competence, and leadership integrity? Or is it the cumulative impact of those AI-generated dopamine hits they have been fed on a loop? This digital fog of war cuts both ways. In a twist of supreme irony, actual footage of candidates behaving badly is now routinely dismissed as ‘AI-generated’ by their PR teams. This was a convenient get-out-of-jail-free card that Balen’s camp used when a video of him shoving cadres went viral.&nbsp; Meanwhile, completely fabricated tear-jerkers of old leaders like Prachanda weeping are consumed by the public as gospel truth. We have arrived at a point where the inconvenient real is dismissed as a glitch, and the emotional fake is embraced as history.&nbsp; In Society of the Spectacle, Guy Debord argued that images eventually replace real life. Today’s voters in Nepal and elsewhere are not even consuming the actual meat-and-bones of mutton curry; they are swallowing the 15 second digital imitations of it.&nbsp; Welcome to the age of digital मासु भात.

Nepal’s AI-generated election

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

In December we headlined an analysis in this paper that the election was going to be a fight between <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-vs-new-in-2026-eyyt3itl">Old and New</a>. With just a month to go for polls, it is now looking more like New vs New.
The symbolic Balendra Shah vs K P Oli struggle has now been replaced by a face-off between Shah and Gagan Thapa, the new leader of the Nepali Congress (NC).
The Tarai with its vast vote bank has become the battleground for this fight with Shah contesting against Oli in Jhapa and Thapa standing in Sarlahi. And social media is the arena for this epic clash of personality cults.
Which means that instead of finding solutions to problems like health, education, jobs, inflation and social welfare, it is all about optics and stunts. AI-generated and algorithm-driven memes are influencing people’s choices.
“This is not democracy but a very morphed form of political consumerism where political men are selling their brand, and people are lapping that up,” says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal.&nbsp;
“Democracy is a way of life, it is not one size fits all, it doesn’t bully opposing voices, it is civilised, personable, tolerant.”
To be sure, Shah and Lamichhane claim to represent GenZ aspirations for cleaner and more efficient government, much like they did in 2022. But elections are expensive, and that is the root of corruption. Shah driving around Nepal in a flashy Defender SUV loaned by a noodle tycoon is proof to some that despite all the rhetoric of ‘new’ it is the same old crony-driven politics.
Author Mohan Mainali says party cadre used to mobilise voluntarily during campaigns, but Nepal’s elections have long stopped being about issues and ideology,
“But political parties lost their morality, and when their actions opposed their avowed principles, the spirit of elections was lost too,” Mainali says. “Cadre and crowds have to be rented, making elections more expensive, and it looks much worse this time around.”
Parties both old and new have moved so far away from what they promise in their manifestos, that it makes little sense to have them. All this means that this election is not so much about what the new candidates can do, but a protest vote against the tried, tested and failed legacy parties.
And that decision is made on the basis of ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Who wins in Jhapa 5, for example, will determine the future course of Nepal. The winner there will eliminate one prime ministerial candidate, and then set up the possibility of a contest with Gagan Thapa.&nbsp;
“The real question is, can the RSP and NC, which have already declared their prime ministerial candidates muster majorities in Parliament?” Mainali muses. “In all likelihood no. The proportional representation vote is very important so people are tempted to vote based on who will be the next prime minister. But that is not how our system is supposed to work.”&nbsp;
Madhes Province has over 3.6 million voters, and more than half of Nepal’s population is in the Tarai. That can make or break the election for candidates. In the past parties have canvassed in the polls only to ignore the region once in power. And that goes for many Madhesi leaders themselves.
It was only after the 2015 federal republican Constitution that Madhes saw some representation, but it has been mostly sidelined in the GenZ protests.
In his analysis for the Annapurna Post this week, Birganj-based political commentator Chandrakishore writes that the Madhes should not just be a vote bank, but a political conscience for the nation.
‘Federalism has not favoured the Madhes, but it is the duty of the state. The parties that made the Constitution should tell us why federalism was weakened. The RSP should answer why it ignored the provincial structure in the past. The Madhes only wanted identity, representation, rights, and good governance,’ he wrote.
Indeed, it is ironic that the RSP that has been ambiguous on federalism, is now actively campaigning in the capital of federalism with Balendra Shah now capitalising on his plains ancestry — something he has not emphasised in the past.&nbsp;
“On one hand you say you want to remove provinces because there are too many positions which have become extremely costly for the state but you are also assuring your aides that there are plenty of positions to be doled out in the current federal structure,” says Sucheta Pyakuryal.
She adds: “You could forgo the ideology which we have done in Nepali politics for a long time now, you don’t even have to be a diehard socialist or liberal to enter the political arena but when even the lowest benchmarks such as basic decency and honesty are not met, how can you represent the people? We want representatives who look like us, sound like us, think like us, not brand names and saviours.”&nbsp;

New vs New in Nepal

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

rural-women

Women conserve, men still conservative

Climate smart Ramkali Mahato

Nepal’s AI-generated election

Mass migration from Muktikot

New vs New in Nepal

Bye-bye range anxiety