<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c49c7e80680e0a5f27jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1142" height="640"/><figcaption>Photos: SAGLO SAMAJ</figcaption></figure>Janakpur, the birthplace of Sita and the cradle of the Mithila civilisation, is seeing a revival of its heritage, culture and traditional art.The origin of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8294#.YN_dOy8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mithila art</a> is rooted in the legend of King Janak ordering his subjects to paint walls of homes to welcome Lord Ram when he came to ask for his daughter Sita’s hand in marriage.Mithila paintings then were done at weddings, festivals and feasts using flour, clay, and cowdung. The artists were mostly the women of the family, who bore the decorative responsibility in their homes. As the art evolved, the paintings became more than a way to beautify homes — they provided women with a creative outlet to tell the stories of their lives.This centuries-old art form has now gone commercial, enabling <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/colour-play-mithila-art-janakpur,796" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">female artists</a> to hone skills passed down from one generation of mothers to the next generation of their daughters. This now gives them financial independence, recognition and respect within Nepal and, increasingly, across the world.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-bhaktapur,597">Bhaktapur’s Mithila influence</a>, Bhaskar Koirala<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c69c7e80680e0a5f28jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="807">Madhumala Mandal was born and raised in Kuwa village near here, where Mithila culture is as ingrained into young girls as household duties and responsibilities. Guided by her grandmother and mother, Mandal would paint pictures of deities to decorate the doors and walls of her house.But her interest in the traditional draughtsmanship soon stretched beyond the walls of her home, she would make shapes out of clay and paint idols on trips to the village mela. <figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05c99c7e80680e0a5f29jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“Even while I was out herding cattle and doing farm work, I was always drawing idols and shapes on the ground,” she recalls.Mandal would eventually have a family of her own, but she retained her passion for Mithila art. She now works at the Women's Development Centre in Janakpur where she creates Mithila paintings on canvas.“It took many years for me to convince family and friends that I was doing the right thing,” she explains.Mandal’s four brothers went to school, but as the sole daughter in the family, she was excluded. Having learnt to be independent from a young age and now with income of her own, she supports her own daughter’s education."The income and respect I earned through my artwork gave me the courage and the means to support my daughter,” she says. “This is the greatest achievement of my life.”Her days of drawing shapes in the mud long behind her, Mandal’s art now stays with traditional motifs but is almost impressionistic. Her work has been exhibited in the US and Hong Kong, and accent the walls of many homes across the world.The ancient Mithila kingdom spanned territory that now lies on both sides of the India Nepal border. Recently, there has been a renaissance of Mithila literature, dance forms and art.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05cc9c7e80680e0a5f2ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="804"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Acclaimed Mithila artist Mithileshwari Devi Karna was born and raised in Bihar’s Madhubani district and settled in Janakpur after marriage, grew up learning the Mithila art form from her mother in India.Karna used to train artists at the Women's Development Centre and faced similar experiences of societal pressure as many other women like Mandal in the Tarai who have chosen to become artists.Her community expressed disapproval when she prepared to travel overseas for an exhibition of her art. “People are always going to judge and make comments,” she says dismissively, “but I stood my ground, and went to Japan.”The steadfast pursuit of her art has earned her respect, financial security, and most importantly, self-satisfaction. Now, the 65, Karna was recently honoured by the Nepal Academy of Fine Arts and now only paints as a hobby. Even so, she is never without a paintbrush and canvas within reach.The popularity of Mithila art and handicrafts spread across the world after the 1980s due to Professor Rajendra Bimal and American artist Claire Burkert, who meticulously documented all the existing Mithila murals in Janakpur.Together, they established the Women's Development Center here in 1992 and trained women in Mithila art for the first time in Nepal, making sure that artists were financially independent through their art, and the techniques were preserved.As a result, the women who have received training and worked in the Centre have played a role in making Mithila art famous not only within Nepal but all over the world.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/modern-mithila-art-that-bares-injustice/">Modern Mithila art that bares injustice</a>, Nunuta RaiSunaina Thakur is among those who institutionalised and promoted Mithila art internationally. Thakur organised Mithila art exhibitions in India, Japan, and the US, and now runs her own art gallery in Janakpur where she employs and trains 30 female artists in the techniques as well as in running an art business.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05cf9c7e80680e0a5f2bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1440" height="800"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d29c7e80680e0a5f2cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“I have been constantly trying to mobilise unrecognised talent to empower artists and encourage gender equality, both through recruitment efforts and through the art itself,” says Thakur, “I now want to pass on what I know to the next generation of women.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d59c7e80680e0a5f2djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Among the artists employed at Thakur’s gallery is Binita Devi Sah, who recently earned her first-ever paycheque through her own Mithila paintings. Family obligations and responsibilities towards her children had confined Sah at home for almost three decades, but when her sons completed their education. It opened the door for her to finally pursue her own interests.“I stepped out of my house 26 years after getting married and earned Rs12,000 through my work. I have not stopped sharing my happiness with other people even as my sons continue to tease me about it,” smiles a proud Sah. “We never thought that this art, which we learned to make as children, could be a means for earning a livelihood.”The Mithila museum at the Janaki temple has also played an important role in documenting and conserving Mithila art. The museum, established under the leadership of Mahant Ramat Peshwar Das, houses Mithila paintings, sculptures, murals, decorative items as well as Maithili music and hymns that showcase the rich history of the art form.Satish Shah, director of the Women's Development Centre, agrees that Mithila art in Nepal has not been able to evolve as much as it has in India where there are more well-equipped institutions. Moreover, the is Center is not as influential as it once was, and has become a cause for concern about the future of Mithila art and artists. The pandemic has made working conditions worse in the last two years, and it is difficult to pay the 40 artists employed.Yet, even as they hope for support from the local and state governments, Shah and Karna both acknowledge that elected officials in Janakpur and Kathmandu do not understand the importance of Mithila art and culture."The government must invest in preserving this institution as well as Mithila art,” says Shah, adding that leaders could start by displaying the paintings in their offices.Mithila art featured heavily during weddings, festivals and celebrations, and even in items of daily use in Janakpur city until two decades ago. The artwork decorating the streets of the city included depictions of ancient earthen houses, artistic interpretations of the traditional jhizhiya dance, daily household items, and vibrantly painted birds. But with modern life, the practice is slowly fading.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/mithila-representations-of-kathmandus-metamorphosis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">S C Suman</a>, former head of the Department of the Folk Arts at the Nepal Academy of Fine Arts, says the reason is that cement houses have replaced the clay walls where the paintings were done. Nepali galleries now import Indian Mithila paintings and pass them off as originals.“While commercialisation to a certain extent is necessary, hyper-commercialisation can also make it difficult to preserve Mithila art,” he says. “Nepali art is incomplete without Mithila art.”_________________<h2>Crossborder Mithila civilisation</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05d89c7e80680e0a5f2ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="720">Mithila art is the cultural heritage of the entire Mithila region, which was a single kingdom before being divided after the 1816 Sugauli Treaty. And while Colonial India got a bigger chunk of the state, Nepal retained 25% of the territory, including the capital of Mithila in Janakpur where the art form originated.When the state of Mithila was divided, the art form began to be referred to as Madhubani art in India. But Mithila and Madhubani art are one and the same, explains Sunaina Thakur.“As in Mithila art, Madhubani art, too, depicts the marriage of Sita and Ram, and the two art forms have the same style,” she adds. “The difference is that Madhubani art is more well known internationally than Mithila art.”Mithila art conservationist and campaigner Sudarshan Lal Karna says that the art form has not developed, or been promoted in Nepal to the extent that it has been in India, where it was first propagated in 1966.The then Union Minister of Bihar, Lalit Narayan Mishra, who was familiar with the art form, introduced his foreign guests to Mithila paintings. They in turn were amazed how similar they were to Picasso’s paintings.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d05db9c7e80680e0a5f2fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“That marked the beginning of the institutional development of Madhubani art in India,” says Karna, while there was no progress in Janakpur. The Women's Development Centre is one of very ew Nepali organisations that actively works to promote and nurture Mithila art.“But although the evolution of the art in Nepal is slower, the quality of the talent with the two nations are at par with each other,” notes Karna, who would like Mithila art to be included in the school curriculum, and not just in Province 2.

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Vibrant Mithila art thrives in Nepal

<figure><img width="731" height="548" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda4b9c7e80680e092eedjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Police raids on illegal home distillers do not even scratch the surface of the problem.</figcaption></figure>Last year about this time, one month into the coronavirus lockdown, 13 people died of a mysterious illness in a single village in Mahottari. A few weeks later in a Dhanusa neighbourhood, another 16 people died with similar symptoms: severe headache and vomiting.These two tragedies have long disappeared from the media headlines. And so has their cause: the consumption of home-made liquor.Nepal has laws against adulteration of food and the sale of edibles past their expiry date. Yet, a year after the deaths in Province 2 no one has been found responsible, there has been no justice, and no compensation for the families of the victims.“He came back complaining of a headache, I rubbed oil on his head, we even took him to Bardibas hospital, but he did not make it,” says Anbhauri Chaudhari, widow of Mahendra Chaudhari, a farmer who had consumed the liquor. <figure><img width="1308" height="668" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda4e9c7e80680e092eeejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Anabhauri Chaudhari</figcaption></figure>The next day, their neighbour Mohan Chaudhari also complained of a headache. His family knew that a neighbour had died, so they looked around for an ambulance to take him to hospital in Janakpur. But by the time it came, Mohan Chaudhari had also died.“They said it could have been because he drank too much, or maybe they mixed something in the drink,” his brother Dasrath says.  <figure><img width="1306" height="673" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda519c7e80680e092eefjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Dashrath Chaudhari</figcaption></figure>In the next few days, 13 people in Meghnath Gohanna village had died of similar causes. There was terror in the surrounding villages because everyone thought it was Covid-19. The bodies were tested for the coronavirus, but they came out negative. People turned to superstition to appeasing the gods to put a stop to the calamity.Local police started to investigate and through a different kind of contact-tracing than for Covid-19,  they found out that all the dead had consumed the same locally distilled liquor in the same shop. Autopsy results of the dead also showed alcohol-poisoning. <figure><img width="1310" height="608" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda549c7e80680e092ef0jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Rajamata Devi Singh</figcaption></figure>“The usual liquor shops were closed because of the lockdown, but there was one woman in the village who was selling home-made spirit in her house. My husband and many others had eaten and drank there, she killed my husband,” says Rajmati Devi Singh, adding that the woman was later chased out of the village.Mamata Mahara’s father-in-law had come home late at night, and at about 1AM he started to writhe in pain. By morning he was dead. Ramrati Devi Mahara’s husband said her husband also started complaining of a headache at night, by 2AM he was in great pain, and by morning he died in hospital.“At first we did not take it seriously, but when they started dying one by one, we started having suspicions about the alcohol they consumed, and that was confirmed by the post-mortem,” recalls mayor Sanjiv Kumar Sah.Most alcoholic drinks contain various concentrations of the organic compound ethanol (C2H5OH) which is used in cleaning fluids and disinfectants, but is also present in wine and beer, and has addictive psychoactive properties. However, ethanol smells and looks similar to methanol (CH3OH) which is highly poisonous even in small doses, causing blindness and even death.  "Earlier, the villagers used to distil alcohol from molasses or grain, but as consumption grew they started adding all kinds of material including urea fertiliser,” explains journalist Rajkarna Mahato. “Driven by demand, there are many underground distillers over which there is no regulation and quality control. The ones who die are the poor who cannot afford commercial alcohol.”Mahato says that despite the series of deaths in the past year, there are no entries in the police records of people who have died of alcohol poisoning. “There is absolutely no government monitoring of this problem, there is no concerted effort to raid the distillers and confiscate the equipment,” he adds.A month later in Dhanusa, 16 people died with similar symptoms, and there too the locals at first feared a coronavirus outbreak. The local authorities then went house-to-house to ask about where the dead had been in the past 24 hours, and that is how it was traced to a local house selling home-made liquor. “You cannot stop people from drinking, the fatalities are due to poor governance and a weak state,” says consumer rights activist Jyoti Baniya. <figure><img width="1309" height="672" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda579c7e80680e092ef1jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Mayor Sanjiv Kumar Sah</figcaption></figure>There are two laws against harmful food items, even though they do not specifically relate to poisonous or adulterated alcohol. But if people who consume spurious liquor die, those selling the product are liable to be tried for manslaughter. The Alcohol Law of 1975 stipulates taxes on the sale of alcohol products, and also prohibits the sale of alcoholic beverages without a license. However, despite the spate of deaths, no one has been tried and punished for these crimes in Dhanusa and Mahottari last year. In fact, some of the perpetrators are carrying on with the same business.“Usually, the police acts after the deaths have occurred. What the point of that? Preventive action could have saved the lives,” says Mayor Sah. “We are not going to solve this problem if we catch the culprits after people have died, and then let them go after some time in jail.”However, the issue in Dhanusa and Mahottari is that even one year later, no one has been caught. So there is no question of letting anyone go. Police inspector Prakash Bista says one of the sellers of liquor was investigated after the events last year, but could not be arrested because of the lack of evidence. <figure><img width="1308" height="668" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111012110/636cda5a9c7e80680e092ef2jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Prakash Bista, DSP, Nepal Police</figcaption></figure>“This is what it means to be poor, we have a hand-to-mouth existence,” says a relative of one of the victim, Shivanarayan Mahato. “We do not have the power to pursue justice or compensation.”

Getting away with killer liquor

<figure><img width="1500" height="844" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd7fc9c7e80680e092e19jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A farmer feeds a buffalo in Banke's Kamdi village. Buffalo milk is the sole income source for farmers in the village.</figcaption></figure>One year after Nepal went into a Covid-19 nationwide lockdown, there has been enormous economic fallout. While most reports have focussed on the impact on Nepal’s GDP growth rate, companies that have gone bankrupt and Nepal’s macro-economy, largely forgotten are stories of individual hardship.Despite the breakthrough vaccine development in the past year, the pandemic continues to impact millions of Nepalis. Those with means changed their professions, others are surviving on loans. But the pandemic-induced economic fallout means half of Nepali households are at risk of falling back into poverty.This week, the Himalmedia video magazine Saglo Samaj interviewed farmers, tourist guides, hotel operators and taxi drivers most affected by the crisis.No country for farmersBuffalo milk is the only source of income for farmers in Kamdi village of Banke. But for six months during the pandemic, they could not sell their milk, and even now do not get a fair price. Farmers take the rest of their milk to the Dairy Development Corporation's collection point, but payment is slow. Local dairies also buy some to make dairy products but with the tourism sector which consumes most of these products down, milk sales have been all-time low.“We sell some milk but the price is not good. Some days you get money, other times you don’t. We live in misery,” says dairy farmer Ramnaresh Yadav.Tulsiram Yadav has 13 buffaloes and used to sell 20 litres of milk a day. “This is what us illiterate people do, raise buffaloes, sell milk, there is no other occupation,” he says. “Milk did not sell well this winter, sometimes even the dairy doesn’t buy, and we have no income.” Guiding lifeUttara Manandhar has been a tourist guide, but lost her job after tourists stopped coming last year. “I know of many guides who changed their profession due to the crisis. I got into teaching myself. But we still have an attachment to the tourism sector and find it hard to adapt to other fields,” she says.She says she will get back to being a guide once tourists return. “In the past year  I have been reading and writing a lot. I’m ready for tourists to come back so that I can share my knowledge with them,” Manandhar adds. <figure><img width="1500" height="844" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd7ff9c7e80680e092e1ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Tourist guides like Uttara Manandhar have had to switch professions after losing their jobs to the pandemic.</figcaption></figure>Shankar Bhattarai had been a tourist guide for 11 years, and also turned to teaching after the tourism sector collapsed. “Even if I am in a classroom, I dream of travelling to the mountains,” says Bhattarai. “The hardest part is to adjust to a new job.” He says tourist guides could have been integrated into the Department of Archaeology to help in excavation work, adding: “We are ready to transfer our knowledge. Don’t leave us in this limbo.” <figure><img width="1500" height="844" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8029c7e80680e092e1bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Tourist guide Shankar Bhattarai turned to teaching after tourism came to a standstill.</figcaption></figure>End of hospitality The lockdown devastated the tourism industry, with least 1 million people losing their jobs. Luxury hotels in Kathmandu and Pokhara laid off hundreds of workers."We aren't asking the hotels for 100% salary. We just want simple meals and enough money to pay school fees of our children," says Kamal Ghimire of the Nepal Independent Hotel, Casino and Restaurant Workers' Union. The Airport Hotel in Kathmandu is a 3-star property with 62 rooms. Because of its location outside the gate of the airport, it used to consistently have 70% occupancy. The past year was a washout, and now barely 7% of the rooms are occupied.“The hotel used to be very crowded and even with our 100 staff, we used to hire additional workers to manage all the parties, seminars and conferences,” says owner Binayak Shah. “Today, we are working with about 10 employees and yet we are finding it difficult to pay wages or the electricity bill.”He says the pandemic has been worse than the Maoist insurgency, adding: “It is much more profitable to run a school or a hospital.”    <img width="640" height="323" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8059c7e80680e092e1cjpeg.jpg" alt="">No alternative to migration Ganesh Tamang worked abroad for six months and with his Rs500,000 savings bought a taxi. Unable to keep up with loan repayment, the bank took possession of the vehicle. “I still get up at five in the morning but instead of driving, I go to feed and milk my buffaloes,” says Tamang, who is now raising livestock and poultry to make a living.  <figure><img width="1500" height="844" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8089c7e80680e092e1djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Taxi operator Sagar Bohora has no choice but to go abroad after earning almost no income in the past year.</figcaption></figure>Sagar Bohora also used to ply a taxi in Kathmandu for 16 hours a day, preferring to work in Nepal rather than toil in a foreign land. But with income nearly zero for the past year, he struggles to pay the medical bills of his elderly mother and his children’s education.  “My heart is against it, but I have no alternative but to go abroad,” he says. “I can’t sleep at night thinking about my piling debts.”Based on Episode 10 of Saglo Samaj, a tv magazine program produced by Himalmedia which is broadcast every Monday at 8:30 pm on Dish Home Channel 130.

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Covid’s collateral damage

https://youtu.be/EHbtiGbt9IAThe rotor of the Nepal Army Bell 407 helicopter is turned even before the cabin door is closed. The crew rushes through pre-flight checks, and is ready to take off for the 20 minute trip to an isolated village high up in the mountains of Kavre. There is not a moment to lose.Skimming the forested ridges on the eastern edge of Kathmandu Valley, the helicopter gains altitude as it approaches the village perched on the Mahabharat Range. The pilots consult a map to get the exact location right.The olive-green helicopter lands in a cloud of dust on a fallow terrace. The patient is 28-year-old Lokmaya Darlami, who has given birth that morning at the village health post. She is still bleeding profusely, and needed to get to hospital in Kathmandu as soon as possible. Earlier, Lokamaya’s husband and family had called the hotline to the President’s Program for Women Upliftment under the Ministry for Women. Children and the Elderly in Kathmandu. <figure><img width="680" height="471" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca1c9c7e80680e08bb4cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Lokmaya being rescued from her village in Kavre when her bleeding did not stop after giving birth.</figcaption></figure>Section Chief Anju Dhungana had taken the call and asked about the mother’s condition, instructed the family to immediately get an endorsement from the health post, and noted the location of a landing spot.Dhungana then called the Nepal Army Air Wing, and said, “We have an urgent maternity rescue in Kavre.” Another call to the CDO in Dhulikhel to coordinate the rescue, and a last one to the relatives of the patient to assure them that a rescue chopper was on its way.Every day, at least three mothers die while giving birth all over Nepal. Despite remarkable achievement in reducing its maternal mortality rate (MMR) from 901 per 100,000 births thirty years ago to less than 240 today, Nepal still has a long way to go to meet the United Nations MMR target of 70 by 2030.The main factors in the reduction of MMR are: rising female literacy, fewer child marriages, the contribution of female community health volunteers, and increase in deliveries in health facilities after the recent spread of the road network. However, the graph is flattening out because of the lack of health care in remote areas. There has also been a spike in MMR during the pandemic in 2020.In fact Nepal’s first Covid-19 fatality was a woman who died on 16 May, ten days after safely delivering a baby at the Teaching Hospital in Kathmandu. She was sent home to her village in Sindhupalchok with symptoms of coronavirus but delay in getting her to hospital because the family could not afford an ambulance during the pandemic cost her life.  <figure><img width="736" height="460" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca1e9c7e80680e08bb4djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Lokmaya in a semi-conscious state being carried to the helicopter.</figcaption></figure>The President’s Program for Women’s Upliftment is an initiative to save the lives of mothers at childbirth. It was launched in 2018, and has made air medevac of 170 mothers who may not have survived if they did not get urgent hospital treatment.Patients in 19 remote districts and parts of 29 districts that do not have roads can apply for rescue. Areas with adequate maternity facilities or road connectivity are not eligible. The program has an annual budget of Rs50 million.  Lokmaya is getting intravenous fluid as she is loaded into the helicopter which takes off immediately for Kathmandu with her baby and relatives. Along the way, blood covers the floor of the helicopter.  Lokmaya is semi-unconscious, and because the nurse at the health post had warned against it, her mother keeps stroking her, and playing a favourite song on a mobile pressed against her ear.The helicopter lands at Kathmanmdu airport, and Lokmaya is transferred to an ambulance which rushes her to the Maternity Hospital with siren blaring. The hospital itself was built in memory of the mother of King Birendra who died at childbirth at age 24 because of loss of blood.Lokmaya is treated, and two days later her condition had improved enough for her to sit up and breastfeeding the baby.Not all the emergency airlifts have a happy ending. Sometimes the relatives wait too long, at others the helicopter is not available, or is delayed by weather.   <figure><img width="960" height="540" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca209c7e80680e08bb4ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> Ambulance at Kathmandu Airport, to take patient to the Maternity Hospital.</figcaption></figure>Recently, a mother who had just given birth at a private hospital in Biratnagar had post-partum haemorrhage. The relatives could not afford the hospital’s fees, and drove her home on a 12-hour journey to Sankhuwasabha.  They applied for an air ambulance, but it was too late for the mother.“Complications usually arise when it is a teenage pregnancy, a home delivery, or a maternity case that needs a caesarian that is no available in the village,” says Sangita Mishra, Director of the Maternity Hospital.  The program has the following criteria for eligibility for free emergency airlift: prolonged labour, if the baby in the womb has died, complicated pregnancy, post-partum haemorrhage, or those who cannot be treated at local facilities.  <figure><img width="2736" height="1824" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cca239c7e80680e08bb4fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Pushpakala Rai of Solukhumbu with her baby after recovery at the Maternity Hospital recently. She got an emergency airlift after prolonged labour.</figcaption></figure>Pushpakala Rai of Solukhumbu had been in labour for five days, and was in intense pain.  Her husband applied for an emergency airlift, and she was flown to Kathmandu where the Maternity Hosptial performed an emergency caesarian, saving both mother and baby.“We mothers risk our lives giving birth,” says Pushpakala, “especially when there are health complications.”  Two days after Lokmaya Darlami was flown to Kathmandu, we go back to check up on her at the Maternity Hospital. She had received two sachets of blood transfusion, and was in stable condition. She smiles and says, “I thought I would die.”President’s Program for Women’s Upliftment hotline: 98416918, 98416068, +977 1 4200328Relatives need to get the following documents for rescue:Endorsement by CDO and Municipality officeLetter from local health institution

Nepal’s air ambulance saves mothers

<figure><img width="1920" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd21c9c7e80680e08f8f2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Nearly 50 years after the United States government forced Nepal to ban the cultivation and use of cannabis, MP Sher Bahadur Tamang is on a crusade to have it legalised. The ban led to the impoverishment of Nepal’s poorest communities by eliminating this important cash crop. Driving it underground led to the formation of a police-politician nexus, and may have contributed to the rise of the Maoist insurgency decades later. In this interview on the Saglo Samaj tv magazine program, Tamang tells host Kanak Mani Dixit how his Cannabis Cultivation (Management) Act could benefit Nepalis.Kanak Mani Dixit: What led you to register the bill to allow the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-to-benefit-from-cannabis-legalisation/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-to-benefit-from-cannabis-legalisation/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1610588760560000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFhTaI-rOxG8QCbt8fqAHBFhpI1qg">legalisation of marijuana</a>?Sher Bahadur Tamang: Throughout this campaign, we worked with many researchers and experts realised the great medicinal and economic value of cannabis. After feedback from the research team, we tabled this bill in Parliament. We believe this is one of the ways to alleviate rural poverty. It also comes at a time when there is a push internationally to legalise not just medicinal marijuana, and the use of the plant for many purposes, including recreational cannabis. Why did you have to register a private bill in Parliament?We met with political leaders and parliamentarians, as well as members of the general public, after we introduced the bill. The 1976 law banned cannabis, criminalising its use. A significant number of the general public view recreational use of cannabis as being wrong and the users are condemned as गंजेडी drug addicts. We sought to counter that belief and create a conversation around the many benefits of cannabis. At a time when marijuana use is gradually becoming more and more open and legal globally, the discourse is also gaining momentum quickly here at home.Cannabis has been an integral part of Nepal’s social and cultural life, but it has carried a very negative connotation after the ban. Why?We worship Lord Shiva, a wise deity who recognised the great medicinal value of cannabis. Over the last 45 years, we were duped into believing that cannabis was harmful.How would this bill lift Nepalis from poverty?There is a competitive international market for cannabis. The country that forced us to ban the crop is now legalising or decriminalising it. Marijuana has been legalised for recreational use in countries like Canada and Uruguay, and for medical use in Thailand. But all of these countries need to cultivate the plants in controlled environments in massive greenhouses, which means the production costs are high. Nepal, however, has the right climate and soil conditions for marijuana cultivation, which means our produce will be organic. Moreover, Purple Haze, a more potent type of marijuana which grows in the Himalayan region of Nepal, is extremely valuable and could be an important cash crop. I believe that the United Nations will make marijuana legal and even encourage the world to plant it widely within our lifetime. The wide-ranging benefits are too important to ignore. <figure><img width="1778" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd21f9c7e80680e08f8f3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Photos: SAGLO SAMAJ</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1778" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd2229c7e80680e08f8f4jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Homesteads growing cannabis look relatively more prosperous than those belonging to subsistence farmers in Makwanpur.</figcaption></figure>There is a widely held belief that cannabis is a gateway drug to harder substances like cocaine and crystal meth. This campaign is entirely driven by science. That cannabis is a gateway drug to harder substances is a false assumption. On the contrary, it is an ‘exit’ drug, as controlled and prescribed marijuana use has proven to help people move away from substance abuse, including cigarette and alcohol addiction.Given Nepal’s poor governance record, do you think that cannabis cultivation and trade can actually be regulated transparently?Those who do not believe that regulation and transparency are possible, have no business being in positions of leadership. If one cannot work to overcome poverty and provide opportunities to citizens, why hold any office at all? <figure><img width="1488" height="2000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd2269c7e80680e08f8f5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepal Police raids cannabis farms accompanied by reporters.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd22a9c7e80680e08f8f6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Farmers look on as police destroy, ready to be harvested cannabis crops in Makwanpur last week.</figcaption></figure>What is your answer to people who think the ban should stay and legalisation will lead to ‘mafiaisation’?If a national governing board monitors cannabis cultivation and collection for medical purposes, we will be able to take the product to the international market, create opportunities for foreign investment, and also generate employment nationally for farming and processing. Of course, the government will require that cannabis farmers and suppliers be licensed.There is the possibility of ‘mafiasation’, as you say, if we are only talking about recreational cannabis. However, the amount of money that can be earned from the medicinal product will far exceed the amount that would be earned from recreational sales. Moreover, cannabis will be the foundation through which Nepal can make the jump to other products in the future.What do the people of Rukum, Rolpa and Makwanpur, and also your own constituency in Sindhupalchok, say about your draft bill? The bill does not allow farmers to convert their entire land for cannabis cultivation, just a portion of it. If, for instance, farmers use a certain part of their land to cultivate marijuana, they will not sit idly by watching the plants grow while the rest of their land remains untilled. They might grow other food grains or vegetables on the rest of their property. And what they will not eat, they will sell, bringing in income. They will not need to leave home and head for the Gulf for employment. From what you say cannabis is not a gateway drug, but a gateway plant that will have a positive impact right across the national economy?Exactly. Everybody will benefit from it. But amending the current law is not enough. There needs to be a regulatory board to decide how much control local governments have over cultivation, how much land farmers will be allocated, and how much they will be allowed to cultivate. Local governments could also gain a certain percentage of the revenue earned from production. That is why a new law is necessary.Do you expect renewed obstruction to the bill from the international community like there was in the past?I do not think there will be any such pushback. The cost of production of cannabis in other countries is much higher than it would be in Nepal. When I began this campaign, many friends, international experts, and scholars got in touch with me to say that Nepal needs only to create a pathway for cannabis cultivation, all other resources required for processing will be readily available. There is also a significant market for raw materials. Lord Shiva himself may be giving his blessings for the bill to be passed. (Laughs) Yes, our sages whom we worship as gods knew the benefits of cannabis. And today, Nepalis who live in poverty or toil in the desert heat of the Gulf, are our new gods. This bill can give them financial security so they do not have to migrate. Those are the people who will benefit directly from this bill.  <img width="1426" height="797" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111124/636cd22d9c7e80680e08f8f7jpeg.jpg" alt="">This interview is based on the third episode of  <a href="https://www.facebook.com/saglosamaj" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Saglo Samaj</a>, a tv magazine program produced by Himalmedia which is broadcast every Monday, at 8:30 pm on Dish Home Channel 130. Go online to watch a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UD3VhdPnEwE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">trailer</a> of the program.

Why Nepal must legalise cannabis

<img width="1556" height="1092" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636bea339c7e80680e087905jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>For over two centuries now, Nepal’s real 'frontline workers’ have been its soldiers who fought and sacrificed their lives in foreign soil for countries other than their own. The tradition continues, and is upheld by the Gurkha reputation for courage and ability to survive any hardship that is promoted in literature and art. Till the Malla period, it was unheard of for Nepalis to fight in foreign armies. In fact, it was the other way around: Kathmandu’s kings 300 years ago used to recruit soldiers from Telangana in South India and Afghanistan.It was only during the Anglo-Nepal war (1814-1816) that Nepalis started fighting beyond the country’s borders. Balbhadra Kunwar, who famously thwarted the siege of Nalapani Fort, joined the army of the Sikh maharaja Ranjit Singh. Even before the Sugauli Treaty ended the war, the British were already recruiting Nepali soldiers for the ‘Nasiri Paltan’ to fight against defending fellow-Nepalis. This went on to become the first-ever Gurkha brigade. Then on, ‘Gurkha’ soldiers have been fighting in many wars in different parts of the world to this day.Gurkha valour has always been interwoven with pain and death. But we do not hear much of that because most Nepali soldiers in those days could not write, and there are few testimonies of what they went through. It is only recently that censored letters by Nepali soldiers archived in Europe have thrown light on the pain and suffering in the trench warfare of France and Belgium, and prisoner of war camps in Germany, during World War I.A diary written by a Gurkha sergeant during the battle of La Bassée in northern France in 1914, and retrieved from his body by a German officer, Lt Alexander Pfeifer, has recently come to light.Just within the first five days of the start of World War I in July 1914, more than 15,000 British soldiers had been killed. Reinforcements arrived from British India, and among them were about 20,000 Gurkhas. Six hundred Nepali men were killed on a single day on 30 October 1914 in La Bassée. <img width="1182" height="388" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636bea369c7e80680e087906jpeg.jpg" alt="">Many of the censored letters and diaries of Gurkha soldiers at the British Library and Museum give us an indication of their suffering in the battlefield. Because they did not fit the narrative of Gurkha ‘bravery’ and would have affected morale, the letters were censored and never received by their families in Nepal.These testimonies were a part of the dissertation of Nepali historian Pratyoush Onta, who painstakingly transcribed the letters in the 1990s. They describe the incredible courage, but also the pain, homesickness, and the insufferable wet cold of the trenches during the European winter.Selected excerpts:Worry about me.This war is fierce. Five of my friends from the Fourth Double Company have been killed. From the Second Company, one-third of the soldiers have lost their lives. The Gurkha Regiment has suffered a huge loss. And for those of us who are still alive, the chances of survival look slim. • • • On 19 May 1914 at five in the morning, our Fourth Double Company was attacked. We were 400 feet away from the German trench. We loaded our rifles with bullets, and stuck khukris in our mouths and went over the top.  Of all the wars that I have ever fought in, this is the most ferocious. Many from my company were killed, but we were able to capture the German trench. Because I was shot in my right elbow, I couldn’t move ahead with my company. By god’s grace the bullet didn’t pierce my bones. I am now in London and recovering. I will soon return to France and fight a good war with those Germans and kill them, because they aren’t human. They use poison gas to win a war. • • • You have been asking me about this place. This is like the fire and the frying pan. When I return home, we can talk about this. I will give you all the details, but I cannot promise you if that day will ever come. I could have written about the conditions here, but we are not allowed to share details. Many of our letters are opened and are censored. If we write anything against the orders given, the one who has written the letter will be punished severely. Dear brother, you must be going through a difficult time in your battlefield, but I understand. We are also suffering the same anguish. Brother, it rains a lot here and it is muddy. It is extremely cold, too. • • •I took part in an attack on a German trench in August. I was injured and had little sense of what was happening. I was taken prisoner by the Germans and sent off to their country. They cut my leg in the prisoners’ camp. I was then hospitalised for two months in Germany and later sent to Britain. They have now received orders to send me to India.• • •This is your brother Bahadur Pun, sending you my greetings. If you have three or four rupees, please send it to me. Along with that, if possible, please send some food, something to drink and some clothes. Dhaniram Pun and I are now prisoners of war in Germany.• • •My mother often said, ‘Leave your job, son, and come back home. Work in your own country, or you will suffer’. I wish I had listened to her. Now when I think of it, my heart fills with regret. <figure><img width="1500" height="1001" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636bea389c7e80680e087907jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>सिपाहीको दु:ख, episode 1 of the tv magazine program Saglo Samaj</figcaption></figure>When the Germans realised that the British POWs spoke so many languages, they took this as an opportunity for linguistic research. They recorded the experiences of the Gurkha prisoners through their songs and folklore. Nepali researcher Alka Atreya Chudal at Vienna University has been given access to some of this material that includes early sound recordings of the Gurkha prisoners in Germany. Going through the archives at Berlin’s Humboldt Museum, Chudal found songs by Gurkha POW Jas Bahadur Rai that were recorded in 1915. Rai died seven months later, and his gravestone in a cemetery outside Berlin preserves the date: 3 January 1917. Although this was a model prison that the Germans used to show international inspectors, many Nepali prisoners succumbed to tuberculosis in winter.  “Jas Bahadur missed home, his songs and writings are a testimony to that, and more than 100 years later they have inspired me to do further research on the Gurkhas and their never-told tales of suffering,” Chudal says. <img width="1209" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181156/636bea3b9c7e80680e087908jpeg.jpg" alt="">There is a possibility that the writings and items belonging to Nepal’s soldiers recovered from Europe’s battlefields will finally be returned to their homeland. With them, we will learn about the other side of the Gurkha saga — the stories of yearning, pain beyond measure, of loves and lives lost.  Based on the first episode of Saglo Samaj, a tv magazine program produced by Himalmedia which is broadcast every Monday, at 8:30 pm on Dish Home Channel 130.

Tales of courage and suffering

<img width="1556" height="1092" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf1114b0ad905ca02f04ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/>For over two centuries now, Nepal’s real 'frontline workers’ have been its soldiers who fought and sacrificed their lives in foreign soil for countries other than their own. The tradition continues, and is upheld by the Gurkha reputation for courage and ability to survive any hardship that is promoted in literature and art. Till the Malla period, it was unheard of for Nepalis to fight in foreign armies. In fact, it was the other way around: Kathmandu’s kings 300 years ago used to recruit soldiers from Telangana in South India and Afghanistan.It was only during the Anglo-Nepal war (1814-1816) that Nepalis started fighting beyond the country’s borders. Balbhadra Kunwar, who famously thwarted the siege of Nalapani Fort, joined the army of the Sikh maharaja Ranjit Singh. Even before the Sugauli Treaty ended the war, the British were already recruiting Nepali soldiers for the ‘Nasiri Paltan’ to fight against defending fellow-Nepalis. This went on to become the first-ever Gurkha brigade. Then on, ‘Gurkha’ soldiers have been fighting in many wars in different parts of the world to this day.Gurkha valour has always been interwoven with pain and death. But we do not hear much of that because most Nepali soldiers in those days could not write, and there are few testimonies of what they went through. It is only recently that censored letters by Nepali soldiers archived in Europe have thrown light on the pain and suffering in the trench warfare of France and Belgium, and prisoner of war camps in Germany, during World War I.A diary written by a Gurkha sergeant during the battle of La Bassée in northern France in 1914, and retrieved from his body by a German officer, Lt Alexander Pfeifer, has recently come to light.Just within the first five days of the start of World War I in July 1914, more than 15,000 British soldiers had been killed. Reinforcements arrived from British India, and among them were about 20,000 Gurkhas. Six hundred Nepali men were killed on a single day on 30 October 1914 in La Bassée. <img width="1182" height="388" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf1144b0ad905ca02f04fjpeg.jpg" alt="">Many of the censored letters and diaries of Gurkha soldiers at the British Library and Museum give us an indication of their suffering in the battlefield. Because they did not fit the narrative of Gurkha ‘bravery’ and would have affected morale, the letters were censored and never received by their families in Nepal.These testimonies were a part of the dissertation of Nepali historian Pratyoush Onta, who painstakingly transcribed the letters in the 1990s. They describe the incredible courage, but also the pain, homesickness, and the insufferable wet cold of the trenches during the European winter.Selected excerpts:Worry about me.This war is fierce. Five of my friends from the Fourth Double Company have been killed. From the Second Company, one-third of the soldiers have lost their lives. The Gurkha Regiment has suffered a huge loss. And for those of us who are still alive, the chances of survival look slim. • • • On 19 May 1914 at five in the morning, our Fourth Double Company was attacked. We were 400 feet away from the German trench. We loaded our rifles with bullets, and stuck khukris in our mouths and went over the top.  Of all the wars that I have ever fought in, this is the most ferocious. Many from my company were killed, but we were able to capture the German trench. Because I was shot in my right elbow, I couldn’t move ahead with my company. By god’s grace the bullet didn’t pierce my bones. I am now in London and recovering. I will soon return to France and fight a good war with those Germans and kill them, because they aren’t human. They use poison gas to win a war. • • • You have been asking me about this place. This is like the fire and the frying pan. When I return home, we can talk about this. I will give you all the details, but I cannot promise you if that day will ever come. I could have written about the conditions here, but we are not allowed to share details. Many of our letters are opened and are censored. If we write anything against the orders given, the one who has written the letter will be punished severely. Dear brother, you must be going through a difficult time in your battlefield, but I understand. We are also suffering the same anguish. Brother, it rains a lot here and it is muddy. It is extremely cold, too. • • •I took part in an attack on a German trench in August. I was injured and had little sense of what was happening. I was taken prisoner by the Germans and sent off to their country. They cut my leg in the prisoners’ camp. I was then hospitalised for two months in Germany and later sent to Britain. They have now received orders to send me to India.• • •This is your brother Bahadur Pun, sending you my greetings. If you have three or four rupees, please send it to me. Along with that, if possible, please send some food, something to drink and some clothes. Dhaniram Pun and I are now prisoners of war in Germany.• • •My mother often said, ‘Leave your job, son, and come back home. Work in your own country, or you will suffer’. I wish I had listened to her. Now when I think of it, my heart fills with regret. <figure><img width="1500" height="1001" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf1164b0ad905ca02f050jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>सिपाहीको दु:ख, episode 1 of the tv magazine program Saglo Samaj</figcaption></figure>When the Germans realised that the British POWs spoke so many languages, they took this as an opportunity for linguistic research. They recorded the experiences of the Gurkha prisoners through their songs and folklore. Nepali researcher Alka Atreya Chudal at Vienna University has been given access to some of this material that includes early sound recordings of the Gurkha prisoners in Germany. Going through the archives at Berlin’s Humboldt Museum, Chudal found songs by Gurkha POW Jas Bahadur Rai that were recorded in 1915. Rai died seven months later, and his gravestone in a cemetery outside Berlin preserves the date: 3 January 1917. Although this was a model prison that the Germans used to show international inspectors, many Nepali prisoners succumbed to tuberculosis in winter.  “Jas Bahadur missed home, his songs and writings are a testimony to that, and more than 100 years later they have inspired me to do further research on the Gurkhas and their never-told tales of suffering,” Chudal says. <img width="1209" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109191124/636bf1194b0ad905ca02f051jpeg.jpg" alt="">There is a possibility that the writings and items belonging to Nepal’s soldiers recovered from Europe’s battlefields will finally be returned to their homeland. With them, we will learn about the other side of the Gurkha saga — the stories of yearning, pain beyond measure, of loves and lives lost.  Based on the first episode of Saglo Samaj, a tv magazine program produced by Himalmedia which is broadcast every Monday, at 8:30 pm on Dish Home Channel 130.

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.

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