This piece is not about Tapasi Pannu’s Bollywood movie, Thappad. But the echo of that slap from childhood still echoes in my ear.&nbsp;
It was the first and only time my father ever laid a hand on me. It could happen again, since Nepali parents have a tendency to believe that no matter how old you are, you are always a child. They can hit you even in your 30s.&nbsp;
My father, a retired high school principal, seldom raised his voice at us while we were growing up. His silence and stern gaze were nevertheless frightening to us youngsters, and struck fear in our hearts.&nbsp;
As children, we never dared speak to him directly. Our mother acted as an intermediary, even in trivial matters like buying a ball-point pen for Rs4.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepali-students-underperform">Why do so many Nepali students underperform?</a>, Anita Shrestha
This was the 1990s, and we all excelled in studies. We were disciplined children who never uttered a curse word. We respect our elders. We were the epitome of well-behaved children.
So imagine our shock when I was subjected to physical punishment from my father for the first time. And it all had to do with my use, or misuse, of the English language.
We started learning English in Grade 4. I had topped not only my &nbsp;class, but the entire school. I could recite what was on any page in my text book. I had a photographic memory.&nbsp;
I excelled not only in academics, but also in General Knowledge. I could rattle off all the countries of South Asia and their capitals and heads of state.&nbsp;
My sister and I were the only two students in our class who had mastered the multiplication table up to 20. One day, our primary school principal announced that only students who knew the table up to 20 could go home, while the rest had to stay back and keep learning until they did. My sister and I found ourselves waiting until evening for our classmates to catch up.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality">After quantity, Nepal's education need quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel
I was 9, and also starting to learn to spell simple English words. I took immense pride in my progress because my grandfather did as well. However, it wasn't enough for my father.
That day, I was doing my English homework, while my father and his colleagues were engrossed in a political conversation. One of his colleagues suddenly asked, "Which grade are you in?"
"Fourth," I replied proudly.
He continued, "What is your roll number?" (Ah, the roll number, a prestigious measure of talent in those times.)
"One," I answered confidently.
He then asked me to recite the multiplication tables for 7, 9, 13, 17, and 19. Which I did, and I noticed my father’s eyes gleaming with pride.
My father’s other friend was also interested and asked me what I was writing.&nbsp;
When I responded “English”, he asked me to write out the lowercase alphabet — widely regarded as the more challenging aspect of English writing. I guess he was trying to confirm if I truly deserved the Roll Number 1 position.&nbsp;
To everyone's surprise, I swiftly wrote out the lower case alphabets from a-z. Satisfied, he was about to return to the political conversation when my father abruptly asked me, "Can you spell 'dog' for Uncle?"
“I can,” I said. “D-O-G,”
"And how about 'god'?" my father pressed on. I spelled god, and everyone was impressed.
Then my father asked me to spell ‘bag’. In those days, children attending <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/ministry-of-education-gets-an-f">government schools</a> in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-marginalised-on-the-margins">rural Madhes</a> had to carry our books cradled in our left hands. Sometimes, they held the books tightly against their chest with both hands, like parents carrying a child.&nbsp;
School bags were fancy and rare. Only private school students had bags. You could be sure a student carrying a school bag, wearing shoes and a tie would be attending a private school.&nbsp;
I had never carried a school bag, and did not know how to spell it. I looked up at the ceiling and squirmed, and my father’s eyes widened. The lines on his forehead showed disappointment.&nbsp;
It must have been less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity. The more time I took, the more they saw me as unworthy of having Roll Number 1. To escape my predicament, I blurted out: “B-O-G."&nbsp;
That was it. My father rose from his stool and slapped me on my face. No one stopped him. His colleagues tried to console me by urging me to study harder.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">Learning rubbish, memorising gibberish</a>, Yugottam Koirala and Yugeshwor Koirala
I was in shock. I had never imagined that my father would ever hit me. The slap did not just hurt me physically, but left a deep emotional scar. I fell ill with a fever that evening, and everyone knew the reason.
No one said a word to my father. My grandfather consoled me, but said that I needed to study even more diligently. As if I had not been studying diligently before.&nbsp;
I have hated the English language ever since. I never dedicated myself to learning English properly in class. And I hated English even more after we had Thoo (ठू) Sir. But that is a story for some other time.

Anbika Giri

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The Thappad

In her Tarai village not far from Hetauda, <a href="https://www.recordnepal.com/sarita-pariyar-who-is-going-to-tell-our-stories">Sarita Pariyar has written</a>, ‘Only certain castes were expected to read and write.’ Tamangs, Dalits and 'higher' castes attended her school, but only some were thought to have the capacity to learn.
‘People would say Chtteri Bahun ka bacchaharu bhayepo padchan; Bhote, Kami Damai ka baccha kaha padchan? (Chettri Bahun children can study, why would Tamang and Kami Damai children go to school?).’
As a child, Sarita believed what she heard about such groups. She saw that very few Tamang and Dalit students made it far in her school. Later she realised that these students faced economic, social, and linguistic barriers, not least the low expectations about their intellectual capacity.
Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-class-divide/">Nepal’s class divide</a>, Tom Robertson
‘The caste system led higher caste kids to believe that reading and writing are in their blood, but Dalit and Janajati kids were made to believe that they could not study and had to do manual work,’ writes Sarita, who realised that many talented children fell victim to these self-fulfilling prophecies. ‘Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.’
In Nepal, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-differences/">schooling and education</a> was once for higher castes only. Even after schools were opened in the 1950s and 1960s, for many years Dalit children either could not go to school or had to sit apart, on the floor or at the back. They could not use the water tap. They faced taunting and teasing from other children.
Today the situation is much improved. There is very little overt discrimination of the kind there once was, but much remains to be done. One big barrier that Dalit children face, as Sarita Pariyar’s story so powerfully reveals, is the bigotry of low expectations.
Many high caste people still believe that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/caste-aside-dalits-battle-sitgma/">Dalit</a>are not smart or have less potential than other children. Sadly, some teachers to whom students look to for guidance believe this. And even more tragically, some Dalits believe this about themselves and their children.
I often hear Nepalis making generalisations about castes. Tamangs are this way. Brahmins are that way. Newars are this way. One of the most horrible stereotypes is “This group is not smart. They are not capable.” Such comments are routinely made about many groups: girls, disabled children, and janajati, particularly Tamangs <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu/">Tharu</a>. It is probably most commonly said about Dalits.
Historically and even today, some 'higher' caste groups have considered Dalits of low intelligence. "In general,” one Dalit friend told me, “conservative Nepalis agree that Dalits’ fate — their Karma — is to serve non-Dalits with manual labour. They consider that Dalits have unintelligent minds — moto buddhi."
Another Dalit friend added, "From the very first day of childhood, children of lower caste are made to believe that they are worthless and fit for nothing. But upper caste children are made to believe that they are the purest and the most intelligent and then they alone have to get into education and professional work."
Read also: After quantity, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/">Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel
Even some teachers hold these beliefs. By far most of Nepal's teachers are from higher caste groups. One longtime teacher-friend (from the upper castes) explained the situation this way: “I’ve never seen active discrimination. That has decreased. But many teachers in their minds still hold negative concepts.”
I asked how these teachers thought about Dalit children. “They are dirty, they do dirty work, they can’t grasp ideas. Teachers won’t say this directly but that’s what they think. It’s in their minds still.”
Nepali teachers often <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/teaching-nepali-teachers-to-teach-better/">do not have good training of any kind</a>, much less effective training on anti-discrimination thinking. Thus they rarely have a deep understanding of systemic racism or generational poverty.
They tend to assume that the status quo is natural and inevitable -- they look at the world around them only long enough to confirm preexisting biases. If they see a Dalit student struggling, they are quick to blame it on caste genetics, not other factors, such as lack of opportunity.
"Jat janayo' (his caste is showing) is a common expression used to humiliate Dalits,” explains a Dalit friend in his forties. “Teachers used this stereotype sometimes when they found I was not performing well in school. As I look back to my school days, I find that teachers were biased about Dalits’ intelligence. They were prejudiced with thoughts that Dalits cannot perform well in class. They consider that reading and writing is not in Dalit culture."
A Dalit friend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/chitwans-bote-people-in-a-changing-world/">Chitwan</a> says, "When Dalit students don't do well, it is blamed on their caste. No one says that maybe they never got a chance. Because if Dalits get a chance, they do great, just as well as any other group."
Worst of all, low expectations can shape reality, they can become self-fulfilling. Children can begin to believe the things said about them. They face obstacles because of poverty or other reasons, but begin to doubt their native capacity. ‘Believe that you will fail, and you are likely to fail. Believe that you can succeed and you will have begun to succeed,’ an American educator explains.
Some <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont/">Dalit</a> children hear these negative stereotypes not just from higher castes but also from other Dalits, sometimes even from their own parents. A friend says, "Dalits also thought, and in rural underdeveloped areas continue to think that reading and writing is not their work and they are not born for these works.”
He adds, "Lower expectations and/or inferior feelings are widespread among Dalit families — both children and their guardians. They often express their feelings that “dalit le padhera ke paauchha ra?” (What benefits would an educated Dalit receive?)” or “Padhera ke po hune hora?”(What would a Dalit become after studying?)”
In other words, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-caste-struggle/">Dalits</a> have internalised the inaccurate myths about them created by the caste system. It is worth repeating Sarita Pariyar’s words: 'Stories about what one group can or cannot do carry tremendous power.'
This is, in effect, a new form of caste discrimination. Today Dalits may be allowed to attend school. They may be allowed to sit in seats like everyone else and in the front but they are still caged in by low expectations. It is just as bad as if they are not allowed to attend school.
Fortunately, the situation is changing. "Nowadays most of the Dalit children and adults don’t express low expectations about their own intelligence and educational potential," an interviewee told me. "Due to electronic media, they see so many doctors, engineers, singers, political leaders and others from Dalit community and these examples give them beautiful hope that even in the circle of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/caste-no-bar/">caste system</a> we can change ourselves into good people."
This is encouraging. Just as low expectations can be self-fulfilling, so can high expectations.
Tom Robertson is a historian and the former director of Fulbright Nepal.

Tom Robertson

Bigotry of low expectations

<figure><img width="1496" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141136/636cfe809c7e80680e0a0c40jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: T P Mishra</figcaption></figure>Dear छोरी, Congratulations on starting a long and exciting journey by beginning kindergarten today. It was lovely to see you so excited when we dropped you off at school this morning.  My own excitement is a bit subdued due to my concern about the <a href="https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/index.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/index.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGMzZWmvE980EZTI4OmEgKzYj2Lxw">Covid-19 pandemic</a> surge in America. I know you will feel uncomfortable wearing that mask all day, but it is necessary to help reduce the risk for yourself and those around you. The environment and circumstances of my school days back in Bhutan were so different from your first day at school today. I was only six in 1990 when I and one of my six siblings were enrolled in the Dokap Primary School near our remote village of Indrachok in Bhutan.  My eldest brother, who never had the chance to go to school himself, carried me on his shoulders during the monsoon when the trails were slippery — 30 minutes downhill and 45 minutes uphill.  I would hold on tight with my hands wrapped around his head as he pushed his way through shrubs and bushes. I would arrive in class bleeding with leeches on my head. I had to pluck them off by sprinkling salt on them. During the monsoon, we always carried pouches of salt in our school backpacks.  At home, we did not have a table, and sat on the floor to eat. I was the youngest, and my job was to feed the family dog, टिके. Thankfully, you have an air-conditioned school bus that pulls up outside our home, ready to take you to your school, which is within easy walking distance here in North Carolina <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2011/08/17/over-50000-butanese-refugees-resettled/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2011/08/17/over-50000-butanese-refugees-resettled/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHMt0z8b27M2Z1ug7TSEf8x_LJFAQ">where we are now settled.</a> In elementary school, some of the Bhutanese teachers treated me harshly. They used to beat me with sticks because I struggled to learn Dzongkha, the national language. Sometimes they made me stand on one foot with the other foot crossed over the knee.  Classmates were encouraged to laugh at me. I am glad you will be studying in a supportive environment without any such childhood trauma. In 1991, when the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-stands-with-bhutanese-refugees-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-stands-with-bhutanese-refugees-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFwujDTI2sbF39yVH4le1KSHDgOrA">Bhutanese regime evicted the Lhjotsampa</a>, my family along with thousands of others were taken by trucks across India and forced into Nepal.  Our refugee camp was on the banks of the holy Kankai River in Jhapa where we spent the next 20 years. Many Bhutanese refugees lost their lives over the years to malaria and other diseases. Two members of our own family died, and I will tell you about them when you grow older. Later, we were moved to the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/home-away-from-home-for-bhutan-refugees/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/home-away-from-home-for-bhutan-refugees/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEkuK3F_5c0lAvmbn_XEib0ZK-nvQ">Beldangi-II refugee camp</a> and we could attend school again. The classes were out in the open, in the shade of a large tree. Once, during a storm, a branch fell on my head and I had to rush to the health post for treatment. Corporal punishment was a part of everyday life in the classroom. The intention of the teachers towards students was not bad, it was just the way schools functioned in those days in Bhutan and in the <a href="https://www.amnestyusa.org/countries/bhutan/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amnestyusa.org/countries/bhutan/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFFLz8IUijatuHD4noHwATnxLrYYA">refugee camp in Nepal</a>. Our large family lived in a bamboo hut, the roof leaked, and did not have electricity in the refugee camp. We did our homework on the floor next to kerosene lamps.  We used to have lots of homework. We had to memorise long paragraphs at home and then recite them when we were in the classroom the following day.  As a refugee child, I did not have shoes. My parents could not afford them, so I wore flip-flops to school.  Always remember that it is not what you wear on your feet that allows you to take steps in life, it is your inner determination. As a new American, you have a place to call home. You should always be grateful to this country where you were born. The United States gave your parents a chance to <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/25/nyregion/25bhutan.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/25/nyregion/25bhutan.html&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHbGYOU59ClcTzQu1BBVTD4I_QUbw">build new lives</a> so that you, too, can enjoy the freedom and citizenship that was denied to us, and to many other peoples around the world today.  Freedom does not mean that you are free from obligations and responsibilities. Never take your freedom for granted. Unlike your parents when they were your age, you will have a roof over your head, you will always have enough food, health care and a sense of belonging. There may be classmates who may be having a hard time, who cannot afford lunch, or who are from refugee families trying to heal from the trauma of war. Your compassion and love will help them as they struggle to make a life in a new place. Share what you have, but do not humiliate others with pity.  Now that you are outside the home, you will probably see things from a different perspective. That is completely normal. I hope you will soon learn to take a stand if you or your friends face bullies. Be kind and generous to others.  Never discriminate against those around you because of the colour of their skin, ethnicity, creed, or any physical difference that sets them apart.  You are starting school even as the people of Afghanistan, especially women there, fear for their lives and are under threat of losing their fundamental rights. I hope you will grow up learning to become the voice of those who cannot speak up for themselves. Culturally, we in Bhutan treat teachers as our second parents. I hope you will carry on that tradition here in the US. We will continue to abide by the language rule: Nepali at home and English at school. As you grow older, I hope the situation will change in our <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Bhutanese-refugees-resettlement-program-ending-in-2018,4121" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Bhutanese-refugees-resettlement-program-ending-in-2018,4121&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFEbjEGZ5Dy0FSpiip7OVuAKH1cXA">motherland Bhutan</a>, so we can go back to trace our ancestral history in the forested mountains of Dagana. When we fled, I hid a plastic bag with my school supplies inside our house because my mother promised we would return home soon. Thirty years have passed, and while we were in the refugee camp in Nepal we learnt that the regime had burnt down our home in Bhutan. That plastic bag with my books must have turned into ashes.  I am sharing these stories from our past for one reason alone — I want you to know where you come from, so that you will make the best of the opportunity that has come your way.  "I will be fine," you assured us right before we dropped you off at your school today. Keep rolling, girl. We cannot wait for you to come home and tell us all about your first day at school.  With unconditional love,  Your बाबा <a href="https://www.bhutannewsservice.org/author/tpmishra/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.bhutannewsservice.org/author/tpmishra/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFYa5h2v_Lg2Seh4UEFLFfQnXbMWA">T P Mishra</a> is the Executive Editor at the <a href="http://www.bhutannewsservice.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.bhutannewsservice.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH2qDv01UkeJzPUlTt_GNgWLC-Iyg">Bhutan News Service</a> and is one of the 90,000 Bhutanese refugees resettled in the United States. This article first appeared in <a href="https://letsrethinkthis.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://letsrethinkthis.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1630465642874000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGALLJGlN2QKRLwavOKHbqh9gQ-Jw">Let’s Rethink This</a>, and is excerpted with permission. <img width="73" height="109" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141136/636cfe839c7e80680e0a0c41jpeg.jpg" alt="">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp/">Elderly left in Bhutan refugee camp</a>, Mukesh Pokharel

Letter to my kindergarten daughter

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5539c7e80680e0736bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1232" height="691"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>A survey of Nepal’s children during the lockdown has confirmed what experts had feared – that there has been an adverse impact on education and nutrition for a majority of them.More than half the families polled reported a loss of jobs or earnings, and this resulted in one-third of the households facing shortages of food, medicines and other necessities.This has impacted children within those households most directly, according to the first of a monthly tracking poll conducted nationwide by <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%20Child%20and%20Family%20Tracker%20Survey.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%2520Child%2520and%2520Family%2520Tracker%2520Survey.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGo2GmsIcJifQwp6zpDl4nROHaGhw">UNICEF Nepal</a> and <a href="https://www.sharecast.org.np/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.sharecast.org.np/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEKj_ojDQ7aoqzexOM0-k93e6VWwg">Sharecast Initiative</a> at the end of May.Because more than two months have passed since the poll was taken, the situation for Nepal’s children is likely to be even more precarious. Some 7,500 households with at least one child was covered in the survey – more than 70% of them engaged in agriculture and a quarter with salaried jobs.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5569c7e80680e0736bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1220" height="691"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Province 2 reported the highest rates (77%) of job and earnings losses, and those whose incomes were most affected by the COVID-19 lockdown lived in sub-metropolitan cities. People living in big cities and in Gandaki Province were less affected by the lockdown.This is sure to mean that the pandemic and the lockdown is widening already skewed income disparities within Nepal. Those earning less than Rs20,000 a month were the ones whose livelihoods have been most adversely impacted by the impact of the pandemic on the economy.Households facing the brunt of this income loss reported shortages of food, medicines, fuel and other essentials. Since the survey was conducted in May, many households were already low on food, and there were supply chain disruptions. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExiQa1A5as__NPWZT6xxO45hciig">Remittances from Nepali abroad fell by half</a> in April, compared to the same month last year.“The survey was done in the early stages of the lockdown, so we expect the impact to be greater now,” says Madhu Acharya of Sharecast Initiative that conducted the survey.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5589c7e80680e0736bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1261" height="607"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Although 64% of those surveyed said they were not suffering any shortages, rural respondents in Sudurpaschim and Province 2 reported the most food shortages. The shortages were manifested in families not being able to afford meat, eggs, dairy products, and some vegetables. This is expected to increase malnutrition among Nepali children under five, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nearly-half-of-nepali-children-still-malnourished/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nearly-half-of-nepali-children-still-malnourished/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5yDD3eoaiEaLZ7WwB4QofCnI1Jg">43% of whom were already malnourished.</a>More than half the children in Karnali Province are stunted because of insufficient nutrition. Many of the most vulnerable children who were getting in school meals have not been able to go to school for the past five months and have been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-out-of-school-children-get-food-at-home/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-out-of-school-children-get-food-at-home/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG5tSrVm9ytGDAOD5UQYEULWR1SOA">missing out on supplemental nutrition</a>.One in every five household polled in the survey in May said their children were getting a reduced variety and smaller portions in fewer meals. Understandably, the reduction in food intake was highest in households with lowest incomes – one-third of them said their children were getting less food.Some 18% of mothers said they were breastfeeding more to compensate for reduced food intake of their small children, with the numbers much higher (32-34%) in Sudurpaschim and Karnali Provinces.Some 16% of breasting mothers of children under two from the poorest families reported that they were eating less, even though 90% of Nepali mothers said they were breastfeeding their children.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba55b9c7e80680e0736bejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1238" height="652"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>UNICEF says that although some of these changes could be related to existing pre-monsoon shortages, it warns that the response of households to reduce food intake in children is worrying.The survey shows that in May most families had been coping by digging into their savings (better off families), or by borrowing money from friends and relatives (poorer households).Preliminery government statistics show that there has been <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/children-are-collateral-damage-in-nepal-lockdown/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/children-are-collateral-damage-in-nepal-lockdown/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG9CTMVDT2NWEjU0J5AJwHpS9VRuw">a 30% increase in the number of under-fives who have died</a> in the March-April-June this year compared to the same three months last year – mainly due lack of transport to take sick children to hospital, or reluctance to seek medical attention because of the fear of the virus.The survey found that although 83% of pregnant women had access to ante-natal care, the figure was much lower for Province 2 (74%). Disaggregating that data by ethnicity, it was found that only half the Tarai Brahmin mothers polled had health checkups during their pregnancy in May. Surprisingly, the figure for Tarai Dalits was a much higher 77%.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba55e9c7e80680e0736bfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1233" height="680"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Perhaps the most serious impact of the lockdown has been on education. Even in May, 95% of households said their children had stopped going to school, and 52% were not even studying at home. O<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/digital-divide-exposes-class-divide-in-nepal-schools/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/digital-divide-exposes-class-divide-in-nepal-schools/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEUD9JnlY3pwhqxNosy9-vm1futCQ">nly 29% had access to distance learning</a>, but that only half were using it.That means only about 12% of Nepali children are taking classes online, or through radio/tv. Even here, the disparity is stark: while up to a third of children in higher income households were using distance learning tools, only 5% in poorer families were doing so.“The continued loss of access to education in low income families might have irreversible negative effects on the country’s economy and adversely affect the potential of the country to ensure equitable and sustainable development,” UNICEF concludes.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5619c7e80680e0736c0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1259" height="706"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The more positive aspect of the survey results is that there is high level of awareness about the way in which COVID-19 is transmitted, and most families appeared to be taking the necessary precautions.More than 93% knew how the coronavirus spread, what preventive measures to take and most said they were washing hands frequently with soap, staying at home, and wearing masks when outside. This means preventive measures against SARS-CoV-2 could also <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/prevention-while-searching-for-a-cure/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/prevention-while-searching-for-a-cure/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEl2beu0G5Dd2ZkbXxsSXNNMYqUjg">protect Nepalis from other prevalent infections</a> like diarrhea, typhoid, tuberculosis and other respiratory diseases.The household members told enumerators they got most of their information about the disease from radio (82%), from family and friends (72%), mobile ring tone (38%) and ward officials.More results of the UNICEF-Sharecast report <a href="https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%20Child%20and%20Family%20Tracker%20Survey.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.unicef.org/nepal/sites/unicef.org.nepal/files/2020-08/UNICEF%2520Child%2520and%2520Family%2520Tracker%2520Survey.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1597041203631000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGo2GmsIcJifQwp6zpDl4nROHaGhw">here.</a>

COVID-19 impact on food and school in Nepali children

<img width="746" height="460" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141136/636bad7b9c7e80680e077f98jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nepal’s education system was in crisis long before the pandemic hit. But with schools closed now for four straight months, remote learning has also exposed the class divide in access to education.There was already poor quality of instruction in government schools, and parents were sending their children to more expensive private institutions. But this inequity in schooling has been further exacerbated by the need for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lockdown-gives-distance-learning-a-boost-in-nepal/">remote instruction due to the COVID-19</a> crisis.While better endowed schools are conducting online classes, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/online-classes-may-widen-digital-divide/">digital divide</a> has meant that a majority of schools and students in the country have been left out.By making self-contradictory rules, the government has sowed further confusion. It announced classes would be conducted through ‘alternative’ systems, but did not ensure that students had tv sets, mobile data, laptops, and did not train teachers in distance learning.Even in Kathmandu Valley, many students do not have access to computers and WiFi to take online classes, so the situation in the remoter districts are much worse. Meanwhile the Ministry of Education, Science, and Technology just issues directives, tells schools conducting regular online classes not to charge fees, but without making alternative provisions for teacher’s salaries.In May, the ministry issued the ‘Student Learning Facilitation Guide for Alternative Systems’ which mentioned radio, television, online and offline lessons, self-learning, and remote teaching as methods to be used. But uneven <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/nepals-new-digital-landscape/">access to technology</a> has created a divide in the past four months between those who get to learn who does not.“The main problem with alternative learning systems is the digital divide,” explains Shishir Khanal, co-founder of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-fellows/">Teach for Nepal</a>. “The only way to bridge this is to go back to in-person teaching by organising staggered classes with precautions, or for teachers to physically visit students’ homes maintaining distance. Trouble is that many of the schools have been converted to quarantine centres.”A survey of access to technology in Tulsipur in the western Tarai recently showed that even in the town, only 6% of students in government schools had WiFi access at home. Only 21% in higher education had radio sets at home for FM classes. Most private schools had been taking online classes for the past two months until the private school organisation PABSON decided to shut all online classes from Thursday to protest the government’s decision not to allow them to take fees from parents.There is technology gap among students even in Kathmandu Valley. At the Pragati Shiksha Sadan Secondary School in Lalitpur, only a quarter of students are taking online classes. Of the rest, many are stuck outside the Valley because of the lockdown and poorer families cannot afford laptops and Wifi.Principal Surya Prasad Ghimire says the school is conducting classes for lower grades through radio and television, and higher classes online. He adds: “Students in the Valley studying in government schools are from weaker economic backgrounds, and do not have the equipment to take online classes.”Students unable to attend online classes are provided with alternative textbooks and class materials, but this is not as effective as online learning. “Some students feel inferior because they do not have the equipment for online classes,” says Ghimire. “It is good that we are able to do remote learning, but this is not accessible to many.”Professor Ram Krishna Regmi says the digital divide has brought out the class divide in Nepali society. He says: “Focusing only on teaching through the use of technology is discriminatory for people who do not have access to it.”Ministry of Education, along with local levels and schools, decided to classify students who did not have access to the internet and provide them with resources to aid their learning. They were instructed to categorise students according to access to radio, FM radio,  tv, and access to a computer but no internet.In Lalitpur, for example, students in 219 government schools who do not have online access have been instructed to listen to radio or tv classes at a specified time. However, Mahendra Chhetri at Lalitpur Municpality admits that alternative learning is inherently unequal unless the technology gap is bridged.Even before the government decided on alternative instruction <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/face-to-face-classes-online/">Bhaktapur had already started remote learning</a> through a local tv channel in its 33 public school, while many of the 60 private schools are doing online classes.However, despite this there are problems of access. Hari Parsad Niraula of Bhaktapur’;s education department says while 80% of the students from private schools are taking classes, only 48% from public schools are online.  In Kathmandu, there is a total of 500 private and public schools. According to Ishwar Man Dangol, spokesperson of the Kathmandu Municipality, most schools have effectively implemented an alternative learning system. Apart from using Zoom and Messenger,  schools are broadcasting lessons through radio and tv.  “It is difficult to conduct online classes even in households that have equipment. Some families have only one smartphone or laptop and there are up to three children taking online classes simultaneously,” says K B Karmacharya, a teacher in Wagishwari Higher Secondary School. “The parents are getting fed up.”One government school in Dharan in eastern Nepal had around 30 students who did not have access to online platforms, radio or tv, says principal Indra Mohan Jha. “Even if families have laptops or phones, they do not have WiFi and cannot afford mobile data.”

Digital divide exposes class divide in Nepal schools

<img width="2500" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d4b9c7e80680e06b340jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>It is that time of the year when many children would be gearing up to join a new pre-school, and their parents, shopping for new school bags and uniforms for the new school year.But 2077 is different. Teachers are busy at Zoom meetings with  principals are struggling with their IT teams to set up digital classrooms before fresh batches begin classes this week.Zoom, Skype, Google Hangouts and good old Gmail are all useful in communicating simply and effectively via video and/or text.  Teachers can always send assignments for the week or instruct live on video using an array of newly-essential tools for remote communication.However, simulating a real classroom environment requires more complex channels built for teachers and students to interact and enjoy a virtual school.There are dozens of ecosystems and learning management platforms, but which is the one best suited to K-12 schools in Nepal? Let’s find out.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-is-up-for-a-quarantine-cooking-challenge/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Who is up for a Quarantine Cooking Challenge?</a>, Saniaa Shah <img width="305" height="464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d4f9c7e80680e06b341jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="288" height="464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d509c7e80680e06b342jpeg.jpg" alt="">GOOGLE CLASSROOMGoogle Classroom doubled its user numbers globally during the quarantine, which says a lot about how popular it is with schools across the globe.Available as an app for phones and tablets, as well as a web app on Google Chrome, Google Classroom is the go-to online space for schools in Nepal for two solid reasons:<ol><li>Google’s product is completely free, while other virtual learning places charge per institution or per student</li><li> It is intuitive and easy to learn, especially for teachers who are new to remote learning, who can upload assignments, get into virtual video-based lessons, and mark submitted homework  without technical training.</li></ol>Google Classroom’s biggest advantage is that Google has a wide set of productivity products that work in sync to help teachers lead and facilitatevirtual classrooms. With Hangouts for video delivery of lessons and Google Forms to help create simple quizzes to test learners, Classroom seamlessly connects with other Google products to help get tasks done efficiently.There are other unique features: teachers can create a Google Doc assignment just once, and each student gets own file to fill in and even click a ‘Turn In’ button to submit.Classroom comes with challenges. When multiple teachers upload multiple assignments, it can get really overwhelming for students because Math, Science, Language and Social Studies are all subjects that have been activated simultaneously out of one digital classroom and into their brains.One teacher sharing a list of weekly assignments at once, makes the work flow easier to manage for parents and kids alike. Schools will have to arrive at solutions on their own – something no tutorial will teach them. Overall, Google Classroom is an excellent product that is already being adopted by Nepali institutions. <img width="344" height="464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d529c7e80680e06b343jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="310" height="464" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d549c7e80680e06b344jpeg.jpg" alt="">EDMODOIdeal for kindergarten and primary schools, Edmodo is a user-friendly, attractive platform, easy for both Windows and Mac users. The design and interface remind people of social media platforms that they are already familiar with, but the functionality is tailor-made for online learning purposes.Keeping in mind that schools are increasingly shifting online to kickstart new academic sessions, Edmodo offers a Distance Learning Toolkit that works as a set of free resources to give educators a place to start and help them make better decisions. This initiative welcomes traditional schools with older schoolteachers to the new normal of online classrooms and a constantly evolving teach-from-home system.Edmodo is already popular with prominent elementary schools in America, primarily because it equips teachers with a super organised space, stores all their data on cloud and offers real-time updates that help maintain quick interaction, much like in real life. Edmodo has partnered with JumpStart Academy Activity Studio to help launch activities that help young kids learn in a fun, interactive manner.The platform calls itself a ‘social learning network’ where teachers can share notes, assign homework, interact with their students, launch class discussions, administer online tests, measure student progress, and much more. It allows both recorded screencasts as well as live streaming, so that teachers can choose to pre-plan and prepare classwork for students to complete at their own pace, or deliver live video lessons. Google apps and MS Office are also integrated into the platform, so that teachers can use the tools they have been using for years.Like everything with Edmodo, the assessment method is limited and simplistic, which makes it difficult for secondary level teachers to grade assignments completed by middle or high school students. Also, Edmodo is not ad-free. But these are minor complaints.Students get a personal planner that helps them keep track of their school work and systematically tackle their task list. Moreover, schools willing to pay for the premium version of the platform are privy to a unique gamification tactic that introduces badges as a way of motivating students to stay on top.Edmodo gets brownie points for involving parents in the learning process.Teachers communicate with parents through Edmodo itself to keep them clued into their children’s virtual school life and support them through this difficult change of academic lifestyle. <img width="652" height="498" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8d559c7e80680e06b345jpeg.jpg" alt="">SCHOOLOGYMy top recommendation for a proper learning management system is Schoology, a super secure and safe platform available as an app on both iOS and Android, and also accessible on the web.Schoology comes with an in-built classroom management suite that offers tools like online attendance, a grade book, a digital space for teachers to post assignments, quiz and test creation and publishing capabilities and various virtual tools to supplement or replace a physical classroom environment.To help schools suddenly forced to go remote, Schoology offers free course-specific and public resources that assist teachers in lesson planning. Teacher groups can also be formed so that teachers can support each other and deliver content smoothly across departments.A solid platform harnesses the power of automation, and Schoology is no different: assignments graded by the teacher automatically feeds into the grade book roster, thus reducing the extra workload for the teacher.Schoology’s layout imitates Facebook to some extent, so, like Edmodo, it’s easy for users of all ages to navigate. Schoology has partnered with complementary apps, such as Remind (helps educators send messages to students and parents), Turnitin (checks for originality and prevents plagiarism amongst students) and Nearpod (uses dynamic media and helps deliver interactive lessons to increase student engagement levels),that make Schoology the one-stop-shop that schools can depend on. Google Drive, Facebook and Twitter can also be used with stay seamlessly connected.Some schools in Nepal still perpetuate the teaching approach applied in pre-industrial revolution era, where there was a clear demarcation of students vs faculty, and where peer-to-peer interaction was discouraged.Schoology gives traditional schools a fresh opportunity to transform the way they teach, not just in terms of channel but also approach, with an open and engaging online learning atmosphere where dialogue is encouraged.Schoology adopts modern ways of the West, fostering asynchronous learning so that individual students can log in at their own convenience and still be totally on track along with their classmates. The secret to running successful virtual classrooms seems to be flexibility, and Schoology checks the box fairly well.Teachers can create an access code for parents to monitor the progress of their children as well as check out what they are currently learning in school. The only issue parents face with this platform is that if two siblings are studying at the same school in different grades, they cannot both sign into their respective Schoology accounts simultaneously from the same device.Other than this, Schoology is professional and effective.Other apps that schools and colleges may explore: Blackboard Learn, Seesaw, Canvas, MoodleRead also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/home-work-during-the-lockdown/">Home work during the lockdown</a>, Saniaa Shah <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/unlocking-yourself-during-the-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Unlocking yourself during the lockdown</a>, Saniaa Shah

Back-to-School season goes remote

<img width="712" height="520" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a962a9c7e80680e05dc50jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nepal has made progress in most areas related to children, like health, education, street children welfare, but challenges remain in nutrition, child marriage, and sexual violence, according to a report released on 20 November.The report was released on the occasion of International Children's Day and the 30th anniversary of the adoption of the Convention on the Rights of the Child by UNICEF Country Director Elke Wisch, Women's Commission Secretary Dipendra Kafle, Ministry of Women, Children &amp; Social Welfare Secretary Chandra Ghimire, and Child Rights Activist Gauri Pradhan."Nepal has improved access to education, sanitation, and was the first country to explicitly ban corporeal punishment for children. It is time to celebrate these achievements, but also remember there is much to do. This report is a call for action to ensure the rights of all children," said Wisch of UNICEF.Nepal's progress on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nearly-half-of-nepali-children-still-malnourished/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">children's health and  nutrition</a> has stalled since the last census, and the problem of sexual violence has  grown worse. It was also pointed out that some challenges are not mentioned in the report:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/to-the-point/keeping-children-safe/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> the threat of pedophiles</a> who target Nepal's children's shelters, and the fact that the Children's Act bans children under 14 from child labour, leaving 14-18 year old children at risk.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nearly-half-of-nepali-children-still-malnourished/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nearly half of Nepali children still malnourished</a>, Sonia Awale<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/junk-food-is-making-nepali-children-shorter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Junk food is making Nepali children shorter,</a> Marty Logan "We have made considerable progress in education in general and girls' education in particular, but the situation of nutrition and sexual violence is still not good," admitted Krishna Bhusal of the National Child Rights Commission, adding that the government's recent initiative to manage street children will be expanded out of Kathmandu soon.Child rights activist Gauri Pradhan felt that the biggest achievement is the change in people's mindsets. "The tradition of educating only the son has now all but disappeared, as we see that girls have an equal presence in schools. Also, child labour has become a stigma now, and teachers using physical punishment are stigmatised too," said Pradhan.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">After quantity, Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel   <img width="483" height="291" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a962d9c7e80680e05dc51jpeg.jpg" alt="">Secretary at the Ministry of Women, Children and Social Welfare Chandra Ghimire noted the demographic trend of decreasing percentage of children in Nepal, and pointed out the nation's additional responsibilities.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/editorial-reaping-demographic-dividend,3621" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reaping the demographic dividend, </a>Editorial "At the moment, the population under 35 is the largest demographic group, but due to the decreasing percentage of children, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/need-to-prepare-for-ageing-society,3624" target="_blank" rel="noopener">by 2075 we will become an elderly society</a>," he said. "Nations develop fastest when there is a large youthful population, which means now for Nepal.”Nepal passed a separate Act for children in 2018 which ensures 13 rights of children. Children below 18 form 42% of the population, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">27% of children between 10-18 years are already married</a>.The mortality rate for children below 5 is 39 per 1,000, infant mortality rate is 32 and neonatal mortality rate is 21. More than one-third of children under five are stunted, 10% have wasting, and 27% are underweight.Nearly 40% of children between 5-17 years of age are involved in child labour, and there were 1,420 reported cases of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-fold-increase-in-reported-rape-in-10-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">children becoming victims of sexual abuse</a>, up 995 last year. There are 82 children living in jails with a parent, and 821 children living in eight child rehabilitation centres across the country.There were 3,730,602 children joining primary school this year, with 39,820 of them with some form of disability. Half the students from grade 1-12 are girls.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/children-and-crime/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Children and Crime</a>, Nepali Times<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Child marriage in Nepal: eloped at 13, mother by 17,</a> Sewa Bhattarai

Mixed picture for Nepal’s children

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ef69c7e80680e04fce2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>TOO POOR TO MATTER: The bamboo shed that serves half the 124 students enrolled at Uma Primary School in Rautahat district. PHOTOS: Gargee Pradhan Shrestha</figcaption></figure>From afar, a little bamboo and mud hut looks like the many cowsheds that dot this district in central Tarai.But it is actually a classroom for some of the 124 students enrolled in Uma Primary School and their two teachers. A nearby cement building that houses a single, tiny furniture-less classroom looks less than inspiring. On the best days, the hut struggles to hold all the children, but <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-tarai-learns-from-past-floods/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">with monsoon rains in full swing</a>, the children are always wet.“Where do I even begin with the list of problems our school faces,” says Principal Munni Kumari Pandey, “a proper school building with desks and chairs, classrooms in which students actually fit, a compound wall so children are safe from the road, and we want more teachers.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">After quantity, Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4ef99c7e80680e04fce3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Uma Primary School is a fitting snapshot of the state of education in Rautahat, which ranks as the worst district in Nepal for school performance. Scoring low in other Human Development Indicators like health, life expectancy, and gender equity, Rautahat trails even remote mountain districts like Humla, Bajhang and Bajura. Its literary rate (42%) is lowest in the country, only half of the men and a third of the women in Rautahat are literate.“The largest section of our budget is devoted to building roads and canals, and to help flood victims. We support schools through salaries, but upgrading their buildings is beyond our budget, and so we have to ask the central government,” explains Arun Kumar Saha, mayor of Durga Bhagawati rural municipality where the school is located.But Gokarna Dhwaj Karki, DEO of Rautahat, passes the buck right back: “Since the country went federal, the central level does not do local budgeting. The District Education Office only has enough budget to operate its own office. Municipalities have to make their own budgets, and our task is only to oversee and approve it.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lowest Common Denominator</a>, Editorial<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108131140/636a4efd9c7e80680e04fce4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Indeed, two years after local governments were elected in Nepal’s new federal structure, there has been no palpable improvement in schools here. <a href="https://cijnepal.org.np/roadmania/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">A report by Rudra Pangeni for the Center for Investigative Journalism</a> (CIJ) indicates that this is not an exception but the rule across the Tarai, as local budgets ignore the social sector and focus on infrastructure. In Rautahat and Sarlahi, several municipalities allocate half their budget to construction, and less than a fifth to education and health combined.As the country is still figuring out a new working mechanism, it is still not clear what rights and responsibilities each level has, and so real local priorities continue to get overshadowed by more showy instant development work, like roads.Officials are happy to blame Rautahat’s grinding poverty for its low school performance. Indeed, Uma Primary School serves children from the Chamar community, the lowest of the Dalits according to the traditional social hierarchy, and Muslims. Children from Dalit families often drop out of school to help out at home, and Rautahat’s Muslims who make up 20% of the population <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-muslims-on-the-margins/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">mostly send children to madrasahs</a>.As elsewhere in Nepal, families that can afford it, send their children to private schools. But government schools have reported increased enrolment and improved attendance when the children are provided school bags, scholarships, and lunches. But these programs are sporadic and occur only if NGOs step in.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Class Struggle</a>, Prakriti Kandel

The last and least in Rautahat

https://youtu.be/TjoXT_Pu2koWith its new highway to the north, Surkhet has become the gateway to the Karnali and is morphing into a boomtown. But 10 minutes out of the dusty, bustling city nestled amidst a terraced landscape, the Kopila Valley School (KVS) is a functioning model for the rest of Nepal on how schools should be built and administered.At a time when progress is marked by the rise of glass and concrete structures, the school employs rammed-earth technology with an ecofriendly philosophy that uses local materials for construction, harnesses the sun and sewage for energy, harvests rainwater and minimises waste.But even founder Maggie Doyne at first needed convincing by architect Prabal Thapa to accept a mud design for the buildings. Her vision of an environment-friendly school was one made of bamboo, like the Green School she had seen in Bali.“Look, we’re not in Bali,” Thapa told her. “We are in Nepal, and Nepal is known for mountains. With rammed earth, you’re making mountains.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-was-a-learning-experience-for-nepals-schools/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Quake was a learning experience for Nepal’s schools</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lowest common denominator</a>, Editorial<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41ae9c7e80680e04a68cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1049"/><figcaption>All photos: SHEILIN TEO</figcaption></figure>Rammed earth provides excellent thermal mass to keep temperature stable indoors, it uses local material and labour, the structure is durable and easy to maintain. The walls are nearly 0.5m thick, and reinforced with steel and concrete banding for seismic resistance.“We wanted the school to feel Nepali through and through, to stay true to local architecture that is so stunningly beautiful,” explains Doyne, showing us around the campus.The two-storey school blocks are simple and rectangular, with gabled roofs, breezy stairwells, and are connected by corridors on one side, much like traditional farmhouses in Nepal. The buildings are designed as modular blocks that can be arranged in various ways to suit the landscape and functions required by the school. The simplicity and repeatability of the modules were important considerations to allow ease of building by unskilled local labourers, many of them women trained on the job.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b19c7e80680e04a68djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5000" height="1784"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Standing within the grounds, it becomes clear why buildings were sited as they were: they form a protective coterie around a central sports court and create ancillary terraces where children play. The topography creates opportunities for passive surveillance from the administrative block that sits towards the top of the sloping site, and plenty of gathering and resting places along stone-lined steps that double as bleachers overlooking play areas and gardens. When children pour out of their classrooms, they tumble across the sports court and down the stairs, bobbing along ramps that slice across the school’s terrace walls brightly coloured in house colours of reds, blues, yellows and greens.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19495#.XOah1BYzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bhaktapur</a>, Lukas Grimm<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12450#.XOahzhYzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mud, glorious mud</a>, Nripal Adhikari“Construction was so difficult, and the only thing that got us through the really hard moments was knowing that one day there would be kids in these classrooms,” Doyne says, explaining that complications in scheduling, budgets and differences of opinion about expectations and work values of intercultural and international teams proved to be challenges.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b49c7e80680e04a68ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2500" height="2174"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The project is not just a simple school. Strengthened with steel, stabilised with cement and concrete, fitted with high performance, durable windows, the school buildings called for experience and skills beyond those required by a traditional project. More advanced, outside-the-box technology gives the campus an edge of self-sufficiency, ease of maintenance and durability.Green technology comes at a cost, with lengthy payback periods that are possibly out of reach of most other schools in Nepal, but are easily adaptable to the local context: filtration systems, biogas, rainwater harvesting by Smart Paani, and solar systems by Sun Farmer. At Kopila, all these design elements are integrated in the school’s new buildings, their functions and terrain, giving the school its green edge.“I feel that this campus has so much integrity. Every step of the way, we made decisions that were sometimes hard, or that had cost implications, or we had to forgo certain things in order to have others, but there’s nothing I would change,” says Doyne.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/learning-from-nepals-past-to-rebuild-its-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Learning from Nepal’s past to rebuild its future</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lost-in-reconstruction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lost in reconstruction</a>, Shiva UpretyThis approach is not limited to the physical design of the school; its curriculum is also grounded in place-based learning that adapts Nepal’s national curriculum to the school’s philosophy. Principal Naim Chaudhari explains: “It is about trying to integrate what we find in the community, what we can learn from and what we can give back to it. After all, when the children graduate they go into the community and they will live there. That is where they will grow further.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41b89c7e80680e04a68fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">The school has a farm and a vocational focus, and the students learn at least one skill each year from among cooking, washing, cleaning, driving, farming, agro-forestry, animal husbandry, horticulture, welding, woodwork, machine work and electrical skills.“When our children graduate from here, they should either go for further studies or be able to find a job,” says Chaudhari.The school includes Grades 1-10 and an Early Childhood Village that focuses on self-learning through play and exploration. The older ‘plus-two’ students are still in an old bamboo school by the highway, but there are plans to bring them into the new buildings.The school’s design allows the new classrooms to blend into the greenery, preserving the productive fruiting trees on site. Just as village life still clings to the fringes of Surkhet, the school’s program extends to the students’ families, farms and the community.“We are a full service community school,” Doyne explains. “It is not just for the kids who study here — we want to bring the community in. This buildings belong to them, and I hope it makes them think about what they ultimately build someday. Just like Bali inspired Kopila, I hope that there will be other schools like this in Nepal, because this one existed.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Class struggle</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/building-back-cheaper-and-stronger/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Building back cheaper and stronger</a>, Sapana Shakya and Aman Raj KhatakhoMaggie's missionIn 2005 when she was 19, Maggie Doyne was trekking in Nepal when she met Hima, a child worker. That started Doyne's Nepal journey, and her efforts to help children go to school eventually expanded to setting up Kopila Valley School and its sister initiatives in Surkhet.Doyne was named the 2014 Unsung Hero of Compassion, awarded by the Dalai Lama, and won the 2015 CNN Hero of the Year Award. Kopila is funded by The BlinkNow Foundation, a non-profit Doyne founded in 2007 as part of a network of initiatives comprising a children’s home, housing for at-risk girls, a training centre for women and a health clinic. KVS admits primarily children from disadvantaged backgrounds, providing for their education and welfare needs. It also runs a Futures Program to teach life skills, and provides vocational and academic support for senior students.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41bb9c7e80680e04a690jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="400" height="400"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41bc9c7e80680e04a691jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1602"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121144/636a41c09c7e80680e04a692jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="961">Sun roofConcentrated solar panels on the roof of the canteen, by Sunworks Nepal, power cookers in the kitchen and replace Rs60,000 worth of LPG per year. Gas is still used as backup, but it is methane from a digester hidden under the artificial turf of a sports court, fed by effluent from the toilets. Irrigation for the school’s vegetable garden and landscaping comes from black and grey-water filtration beds. Rainwater from the roofs is harvested into a 300,000l water storage tank under the school canteen, designed to fill all water needs for a year. Arrays of solar photovoltaics power the school, backed up by a diesel generator. Compost from black-water waste is used to grow the KVS’s organic produce.

Starting Nepal’s green school movement

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO3BZW81_TI&amp;feature=youtu.beEver since he established Barkatiya School in Nepalganj in 1993 on leased property, principal Maulana Ziaul Mustafa Noorani has worked relentlessly to improve the quality of instruction in his madrasa.More than 500 students attend the school from primary to Grade 10, studying all the subjects in Nepal’s education curriculum, like science, English, mathematics and social studies. But they also study Urdu and Arabic, mandatory according to Muslim culture.“I transferred from a private school to Barkatiya because I wanted to understand my religion,” says Sahin Khatun, who passed her SLC and is now teaching English at the same school. “The school also prepared me to be well-rounded in all other subjects and gave me a future.”Apart from students following the regular curriculum, Barkatiya has 80 children studying religion, who will graduate to become clerics in their communities.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25904&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Moving to the mainstream</a>, Chandra Kishore<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25919&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalgunj</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fd49c7e80680e04a5e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Well rounded: Grade 6 students of Barkatiya School studying Nepali. The madrasa has all subjects of the government curriculum with additional Urdu and Arabic. Pics: Prakriti Kandel</figcaption></figure>The majority of madrasas in Nepal used to be religious institutions, but in 2004 the government started registering them as government schools and had them adopt the Nepali curriculum, while allowing them to continue religious learning.However although they are registered, madrasas do not receive the same treatment as other government schools. Barkatiya itself is short-staffed and underfunded, with only three teachers provided by the government for classes up to Grade 10.“In spite of being mainstreamed, community leaders and schools feel discriminated against because they do not get the facilities other government schools have,” explains Samim Miya Ansari of the National Muslim Commission.Despite being a school that the community considers a model, Barkatiya receives minimal funding, and the budget set aside for scholarships for needy students has to be diverted to salaries of teachers, most of whom are hired outside of the government’s quota.After the 2017 elections, which returned <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/rana-regime-restored-in-nepalganj/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Dhawal Rana as mayor of Nepalganj</a>, the school for the first time got funding from the municipality — Rs700,000. However, the education budget is still centralised in Kathmandu, so local governments lack the jurisdiction and resources to allocate to schools in their municipalities.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/class-struggle-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Class struggle</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lowest-common-denominator/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lowest Common Denominator</a>, Editorial<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fd79c7e80680e04a5eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">This pertains not just to Nepalganj — madrasa schools across Nepal face a shortage of teachers and funding. The situation is most critical in Province 2, which has the largest Muslim population and the highest number of madrasas.Registered madrasa schools have been receiving Rs168,000 per year as government grants, which is insufficient. With that amount they have to put together their own infrastructure and run the schools with a limited teacher quota, while dealing with misappropriation of even the meagre grants. Many teachers do not receive even their minimal salaries on time and numerous madrasas now have to raise additional money from India or the Middle East.Meanwhile, government schools are allocated bigger budgets, have buildings, playgrounds and furniture, and enough resources to hire teachers.Barkatiya is relatively well managed, but most madrasa schools have little oversight and regulation. “Our madrasa schools do not have proper management committees so quality control and financial discipline is a huge problem,” admits Naim Ansari of Samaj Bikas Kendra in Mahottari. Registered madrasas in that district have official permission to conduct only Grade 1, while the other grades are unofficial, which is a reflection of the lack of oversight by government.Poor support and regulation of madrasa schools has taken a toll on the living standard of Nepal’s Muslim community. Nearly one-quarter live below the poverty line. The Human Development Index of Muslims is 0.422, which is lower than that for Dalits all over Nepal (0.434), according to the 2014 Human Development Report by the National Planning Commission and UNDP. Province 2 has half the number of out-of-school children in Nepal: one-third between the ages of 5 and 12 do not attend school. Most of them are Muslim or Dalit.Samim Miya Ansari hopes the situation will improve now that the Muslim Commission and the Ministry of Education are prioritising the quality of madrasas. (See interview).The High-Level Education Commission’s report in January, which triggered a controversy after its call to convert private to public schools, also had a section which reiterated the need to mainstream madrasa schools and called for recognising the qualifications of religious teachers.Mainstreaming of madrasa schools may have started in 2004, but it has not covered all madrasas in Nepal, mainly because of lack of commitment from the government in Kathmandu. This negligence is depriving the members of one of the country's most marginalised communities from advancing and from being treated equally with other citizens.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-quantity-nepals-education-needs-quality/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">After quantity, Nepal’s education needs quality</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-science-of-learning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Science of Learning</a>, Prakriti Kandel<h2>Upgrading madrasa schools</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fda9c7e80680e04a5ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050">Samim Miya Ansari, the newly-appointed chair of the National Muslim Commission, spoke to Nepali Times  this week:Nepali Times: What is the current situation of madrasas in Nepal?Samim Miya Ansari: Madrasas are educational institutions related to our culture, but ultimately they are like any other school. But they are not properly managed. Government grants are inadequate, facilities are lacking, they do not even have furniture. The Muslim community is a little disheartened that madrasa schools do not have even the minimal facilities present in government schools. I have been communicating with the government to resolve this problem.What will be your commission's role?The commission is a constitutional body working to improve the status of the Muslim community. In Province 1 and 2, we have conducted hearings in which issues regarding madrasa schools came up. I have urged the government to mainstream madrasas — we cannot ignore Urdu and Arabic subjects, but the Nepali curriculum is also extremely important for Muslim children. Madrasa schools need a proper body to monitor them, which is why a Madrasa Board is being set up under the Education Ministry.What lessons can Nepal learn from the recent terrorist attacks in Sri Lanka?What happened in Sri Lanka is very sad. But the situation in Nepal is different — all religions have lived in harmony and like one family in Nepal for a very long time. Before the 2015 Constitution was promulgated, we had nation-wide protests for the rights of Muslims, but they were all peaceful.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19396#.XMrV-RQzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Money, modernity and madrasas</a>, Sabir Ansari<h2>Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalganj</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fdd9c7e80680e04a5ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Wearing a white salwar kameez that matches his short white beard, Mustafa Ahasan (at left, above) calmly sews clothes at his tailoring shop near Tribhuvan Chok, the old Muslim quarter of Nepalganj.But the 51-year-old is no ordinary tailor — behind him on the wall hangs a certificate vouching for his credential as a noted poet of Urdu ghazal and shayari, forms much admired but little understood in Nepal.Ahasan and his fellow ghazal enthusiasts keep the proper forms of Urdu poetry alive in Nepalganj through a group called Gulzar-e-adab. With 18% of its population Muslim, the influence of Islamic culture is evident everywhere in this western Tarai city bordering India.The narrow street called Eklaini has swirling Islamic curlicues over doors and terraces, even on modern concrete buildings, and the sidewalks are packed with colourful chura-pote shops selling bangles and glass beads.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25904&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Moving to the mainstream</a>, Chandra Kishore<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25910&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims on the margins</a>, Prakriti KandelMustafa Ahasan was educated in a Nepalganj madrasa and went on to get a degree in literature from Aligarh University in India, where he also learnt Arabic, Persian and poetic metres called beher used in these languages.“There are only a handful of people in Nepal today who write Urdu poetry in beher, and half of us are here in Nepalganj,” says Ahasan. “We keep up the tradition of Motiram Bhatta, who introduced ghazal in Nepal and who was proficient in these metres.”Gulzar-e-Adab has been holding regular monthly ghazal events for the past 40 years, says 81-year-old poet Abdul Lateef Shauk (at right, above): “Our events are not just for Urdu poets; we also have recitals in Nepali, Hindi and Awadhi. They are a vibrant hub for cross-cultural exchange.”Once in a while, the group also holds all-night Mushayra events, inviting poets from across Nepal and India. But Shauk and Ahasan say they are swimming against the tide, as the interest in traditional Urdu poetry is dwindling.Ghazal scholar Ghanashyam Nyaupane is among a handful of poets writing in beher in Nepal, and agrees that these forms are not very well understood in Nepal. “There are three strands of ghazal writing in Nepal: one group creates its own metres and purists do not like it. The second group has no knowledge of metre at all and just rhyme. The third writes in classical Urdu metre, but this group is very small and getting smaller.”Sewa BhattaraiRead also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2047#.XMrZRBQzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/written-locally-read-globally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Written locally, read globally</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Nepali Muslims on the margins

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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