<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19959c7e80680e0ac828jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>This short book, Political Economy of Social Change and Development in Nepal, by Jeevan Sharma, a senior lecturer on South Asia and international development at the University of Edinburgh, packs a punch. Drawing on his own original field research and the ideas of Karl Polanyi on The Great Transformation (1944) as well as secondary literature, Sharma has produced a holistic overview and analysis of the economic, social and political transformation that Nepal has experienced over recent decades. `His work challenges many of the prevailing characterisations and explanations of that process, and identify some of the contradictions that underlie the more visible fault lines that others like Ram Sharan Mahat and Baburam Bhattarai also have identified. In his Introduction Sharma writes that ‘change, transformation and development have been recurrent themes, not only in everyday conversations, political rhetoric and social movements, but also in Nepali public culture and literary writings since the 1950s’. He then reviews both the main features of the changes that have taken place since the 1950s and also some of the different theoretical and empirical studies that have addressed those changes. Sharma warns against the uncritical adoption of Polanyi’s framework for ‘the Global South’, but argues that a more complex model, involving ‘a three-sided constellation of conflict among proponents of marketisation, adherents of social protection and partisans of emancipation’, would make it possible to connect ‘politics, society and economy’. He does not consider in any detail alternative approaches to the ‘political economy’ of social change and development in Nepal (eg the ‘neo-liberal’ and the Marxist) although he sees the ten-year <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/02/16/making-war-on-the-day-of-love/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist insurgency</a> (1996-2006) as part of a broader movement for social justice, rights and citizenship that he argues has been developing ‘since the 1950s’. The book has four main chapters, each considering an axis of change. Chapter 2 ‘From Subjects to Citizens’ considers Nepal’s political ‘transition’ focuses particularly on the period since the 1950s. The first half of the chapter charts the uneven process the transition from subjects to citizens at the national level, the second half examines local perceptions of the dynamics of social change with particular reference to changes in caste, gender and local power relations and to the role of the Maoist insurgency in bringing about these changes. This section draws on Sharma’s own fieldwork in western Nepal. Chapter 3 ‘Peasantry, Mobility and the Changing Face of Rural Nepal’ looks briefly at the economic and social history of the peasantry in Nepal and ‘changing rural society’, exploring the diversification of rural livelihoods, the weakening of ‘caste-based feudal relations’ and the commodification of labour. This leads on to a consideration of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepali-migration-in-the-2020s/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">migration</a>, which he rightly sees as having a long history from the mid-18th century onwards. Somewhat controversially, Sharma identifies three to five ‘waves’ of migration, the last of which became more widespread after the 1990s and ‘has come to shape the nature of the remittance-based national economy of Nepal’ – leaving many Nepalis in low-paid, highly exploitative and precarious employment. I would have preferred to see migration as characterised by different ‘forms’ or ‘regimes’, often contemporaneous rather than sequential. And despite the undoubted importance of remittances in contemporary Nepal would contest the notion that Nepal’s economy is ‘remittance-based’. There are many different strands in Nepal’s complex integration in the wider regional and global economy, including not only the export of labour, but also of other resources as commodities, and the importation of commodities from other countries, foreign direct investment, loans and ‘<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19592#.YXet2E1BzOQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">foreign aid</a>’. It is also debatable, as the climate crisis deepens in this most vulnerable of countries, whether paid employment away from home is necessarily more precarious than livelihoods based on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/aid-rarely-aids-agriculture-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">agriculture</a> and embedded in a local economy and society often characterised by hierarchy and inequality.   Chapter 4 ‘Mobility and Educational and Occupational Futures’ focuses on the experiences of young men from rural Nepal as they struggle to overcome the challenges of mobility and find secure, and salaried employment. It draws heavily on Sharma’s fieldwork in Palpa and explores ‘social meanings and patterns of mobility’, looking at the links between education and employment in particular, but also considering the significance of caste and ethnic identities in determining outcomes. This chapter is particularly rich in ethnographic terms, and complements Sharma’s earlier work on ‘youth, migration and masculinities in Nepal’. It would be good if some anthropologist were to undertake a similar investigation into the education and subsequent livelihoods of girls and women. Chapter 5 ‘Development and Patronage Politics’, while referring to programs undertaken during the early 20th century ‘that would fall under what is broadly regarded as development’, Sharma sees 1950 as ‘a critical moment in Nepal’s development history’. He examines briefly what he calls the ‘initial rush for development’ in the 1950s and then the program of ‘nation-building through Bikas’ under the Panchayat System dominated by King Mahendra. This is followed by a review of the period after the first Jana Andolan from 1990 to 1996 (‘democratisation for development’) and of the Maoist insurgency (‘conflict and development’) from 1996-2006. Sharma considers the Maoists’ theory, strategy and practical contribution to economic, social and political change. While recognising that ‘development was at the core of Maoist ideology and strategy’ and acknowledging their positive influence in certain areas – notably addressing inequality and social discrimination – he seems largely unimpressed by their actual achievements and has a number of negative things to say about their practice. Somewhat surprisingly, he does not refer in any detail to their theoretical and political analysis of development and underdevelopment, despite several of the Maoist leadership publishing them widely. He notes, however, that the Maoist insurgency prompted various development agencies to reconsider their own strategy for addressing ‘<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">structural violence</a> and discrimination’ – resulting in the establishment of a new consensus on the priority on gender, caste and ethnicity through the lens of  inclusion and empowerment. This effectively downgraded the concerns of economic (class) inequality, and poverty, which had hitherto been a main concern of both the World Bank and the UK Department for International Development (DfID). He also remarks that the conflict itself had the effect of accelerating the process of migration, both temporary and permanent, from the rural areas to the towns and abroad, thereby contributing to the transformation of both rural and urban economy and society. ‘The Maoist insurgency coincided with a major economic change in Nepal, that is, the commodification of land and labour as never before, with the deepening of the market in the citizens’ everyday lives,’ he writes. This process continued in the next period, following <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/revisiting-maoist-demands,2860" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jana Andolan II</a> and the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12806#.YXetRU1BzOR" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Comprehensive Peace Agreement</a> (CPA) of 2006, as the Maoists re-entered the mainstream of Nepali politics and contributed to the peace process and state re-structuring. This led to the establishment of an interim government, the abolition of the monarchy, and the election of a Constituent Assembly charged with the task of drawing up a new constitution, for a secular, federal republic. The excitement of the early years of this period (2006-2008) was followed by seven years of political wrangling and lack of direction until, eventually, shortly after the April-May 2015 earthquake, a new Constitution was finally promulgated in September. This was marked by controversy, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/few-jobs-created-by-nepal-employment-drive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">failed to advance</a> any of the promising elements of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-in-transition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">CPA</a>, including Article 3.13. which envisaged ‘a policy of massive increase in employment and income generation opportunities by increasing investment in industries, trade and export promotion’. Sharma argues that ‘sluggish economic growth and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/missing-the-plot-in-nepals-job-scheme/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">lack of jobs</a> have created economic precarity’, and that while demands for greater rights for various social minorities have tended to take centre stage, there has been little or no appetite on the part of government or opposition, development agencies or civil society, for economic justice.  Sharma argues that ‘beyond the immediate impact on the economy and lives and livelihoods, the earthquake had a seismic impact on Nepal’s long political transition’.  I would disagree. Although it resulted in the ‘fast-tracking of the Constitution-writing process’, the earthquake failed to promote a new sense of common endeavour or urgency, even as regards physical reconstruction after the earthquake. The interventions of the foreign agencies in its aftermath were un-coordinated and subject to widespread criticism. Controversies over aspects of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-contentious-constitution-day/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Constitution</a> and the very different responses to it from China and India, provided fuel for a ‘new Nepali nationalism’, as Sharma suggests – even if this nationalism proved divisive rather than integrative. This period was marked on the one hand by a national debate over the precise form the promised new ‘federal’ structure would take, and efforts to delineate the contours of a new, more decentralised polity, while on the other hand, political discourse and practice continued to be characterised by the dominance of elite politics at all levels, national, regional and local, and by the pervasive and malign phenomenon of corruption and patronage. Sharma ends this chapter by remarking that ‘the politics of the distribution of development has been realised in practice by distributional coalitions’. In other words, development in Nepal is not the broad-based, inclusive form of positive economic, social and political transformation that the term often implies, but rather a narrowly conceived and implemented, and fragmented, ‘sharing of the spoils’. The book ends with a consideration of ‘Precarity and Paradox in Once-Remote Locations’, on the contradictions of globalisation for a social formation on the periphery of the global political economy that retains many of the characteristics of pre-capitalism. It also looks into the nature of life on the periphery – which involves integration in the global political economy but creates ‘precarious livelihoods’. Sharma is concerned that Nepal’s integration into the wider world has so far failed to generate the appropriate ‘counter-movement’ to safeguard and protect the lives and livelihoods of the majority of ordinary Nepalis, even if it has <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-great-income-divide/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">apparently reduced poverty</a>, allowed the emergence of a middle class, and enabled <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-richest-man-in-the-pandora-papers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a minority to accumulate considerable wealth</a>. Nepal’s continuing and arguably increasing reliance on foreign labour migration is both a cause and a consequence of the failure to generate decent, reasonably secure employment and economic opportunities within the country. It is a failure of both the public and the private sector, but it is also a consequence of the lack of an enduring movement for economic, social and political reform (or revolution) to bring about a ‘great transformation’ in Nepal. David Seddon is a former Professor of Development Studies at the University of East Anglia and now independent researcher and writer.Political Economy of Social Change and Development in NepalJeevan R. SharmaBloomsbury Academic India, 2021215 pp.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161132/636d19989c7e80680e0ac829jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="180" height="291">

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Nepal’s elusive ‘Great Transformation’

May 2017 was a milestone in Nepal’s transition from a unitary system to a federal state, but a year since <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/political-power-of-the-ballot-local-elections-nepal" target="_blank" rel="noopener">locally elected representatives took office</a>, the process of devolution to sub-national governments has been slow. New administrative requirements have created confusion over the roles and responsibilities in the three tiers of government. Despite this, elected local governments remain determined to govern while managing public expectations to deliver campaign commitments. How well local leaders negotiate and handle pressures of unmet expectations will impact the political ecology of this transition, either leading to a favourable outcome or running the risk of failure.While the constitutional mandate is clear, competing roles and the absence of consistent political will have caused uncertainties to persist. Mechanisms designed to settle disputes between layers of government have not yet been fully utilised, leaving room for bitter contestation. The continuation of this policy and structural vacuum means that chief ministers, mayors and ward chiefs use decentralisation to negotiate for more power, while lacking knowledge and capacity to govern effectively.Conversely, the exercise of legislative powers at the sub-national level has led to a backlash, delimiting the actual authority given to local governments. The series of federal directives sent to elected local governments discouraging drafting of local legislation is proof of this.Meanwhile, priorities and needs have begun to expand and multiply, signaling an end to the honeymoon period for elected representatives. Local governments are now under increasing pressure to administer their responsibilities and provide essential services to constituents. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=13560&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Grassroots democracy is delivering development</a> <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/trial-error-democracy,3713" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Trial and error democracy</a>, Om Astha Rai Coalitions within local executives have fostered democratic practices in local governments in some areas. In others, conflict and collusion have plagued the system, chipping away at the quality of service delivery. There are conflicts of interest, nepotism, arbitrary decision-making and misappropriations of grants. There is an ongoing struggle to exercise autonomy as local governments attempt to establish new lines of power. A clear example is the recent controversy over the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taxman-cometh/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">tax increase by provincial and local governments</a>, which want to assert their powers defined in Schedule 8 of the Constitution to raise revenue. With the current budget allocations insufficient to meet the mandate to govern, elected representatives are looking to other avenues. The taxes have created an uproar in the private sector, however, which is concerned about double taxation and misuse of power. Tax hikes ultimately affect the public, which has to bear the additional costs of goods and services. Although the Federal Parliament has directed the government to look into tax increases, the National Natural Resources Fiscal Commission (NNRFC) is yet to be formally established. Nonetheless, Nepal’s first <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/privatisation-failed-khatiwada/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">federal budget 2018-2019</a>, presented in May, represents a significant departure in budgeting and planning processes carried out under the previous unitary system. This important policy instrument illustrates priorities of the elected government and the decisions taken to fulfill constitutional responsibilities. More importantly, it now includes resource allocations to sub-national governments. For the first time, local assemblies took part in the formulation of budgeting and planning needs. Other important markers of progress include the completion of the Organisation &amp; Management (O&amp;M) Survey to recommend the necessary requirements of Federal and Provincial government civil service needs. The O&amp;M survey for local governments is ongoing and once finished, it will establish organisation structures and staffing needs for local governments not yet fully functional. However, to what extent this will restructure the bureaucracy to adopt a bottom-up approach to service the three-tiered federation remains to be seen. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/political-cartel-trying-to-back-pedal-on-devolution,3813" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Devolution Revolution</a>, Editorial<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/08/01/federalism-in-jeopardy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Federalism in jeopardy</a>, Iain Payne and Binayak BasnyatThe merger of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/one-body-two-heads/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">UCPN and UML</a> marked a significant milestone in political restructuring and consolidation of power across three levels of government. The realignment of political positions and interests signals a shift towards adaptation to a new architecture of a federal republic. Despite this, the current structure still exhibits and reinforces a patronage culture reminiscent of a unitary state. While a strong national majority government does provide significant benefits in terms of stability and decision-making power, the results of devolution will depend on the transformation of political parties. Institutional growth and reform are a prerequisite if there is to be a departure from the traditional decentralisation of the 1990s. This is critical to re-engineer accountability channels that were previously centralised and hierarchical.Elected representatives heading judicial committees are trying to meet the high expectations of their constituents on one hand, while navigating the complexities of deciding on a just result amid competing economic, social, political and legal forces on the other. This raises fears that the poor and marginalised will continue to be ostracised, politicisation and corruption will continue to persist, and access to justice will continue to be difficult. Having an elected representation in a federal system after two decades is a real opportunity to deepen and institutionalise democratic practice in the 753 local governments. Institutional arrangements between the multi-tiered forms of government will determine the relationships, which will have to endure as power struggles define the boundaries of shared rule and self-rule. State and non-state actors, which have little history of cooperation, and who are suspicious of each other, must forge new ways of working together. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/The-gadfly/ensuring-proportional-representation-without-federalism,435" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Devolution without federalism</a>, David Seddon<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/share-rule-and-self-rule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Shre rule and self rule</a>, George VargheseAshray Pande and Namit Wagley are Program Officers at the Asia Foundation in Kathmandu.The views and opinions expressed here are those of the authors and not those of The Asia Foundation or its funders.

Federalism's birth pangs or death rattle?

<img width="1400" height="1050" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/6369229f9c7e80680e03a13bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>In the three decades after 1960 when political parties were banned, there were Village Panchayats. After the democratic changes in 1990, they were called Village Development Committees (VDCs) of which there were nearly 4,000 all over the country. In the new Constitution, VDCs have been merged into 460 Rural Municipalities (Gaunpalika).Whatever the name they go by, elected village councils in Nepal have been at the grassroots of democracy and development. After last year's elections, the new municipalities are asserting themselves.Dhan Bahadur Thapa Magar is 87, and old enough to remember the time he was elected to head the Village Panchayat of Chure village of Kailali in Province 7. He says: “There is now a lot more development budget than in the past. Combined with local surplus budget, villages can speed up their own development provided the budget is not misused.” VDCs used to get annual grants of Rs2 million for development from Kathmandu. Today, rural municipalities get up to Rs200 million and it includes three types of budgets provided by the central and provincial governments: conditional, lump-sum and matching funds. If the development budget of three former VDCs combined was Rs 6million, as a single rural municipality, it would now gets up to five times more.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=13549&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Federalism's Birth pangs or Death Rattle?</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6256#.W6N5VM4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Devolution, not revolution</a>, Alok Bohara <img width="1400" height="1050" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107161120/636922a29c7e80680e03a13cjpeg.jpg" alt="">“In my Gaupalika, in the last fiscal year, the total budget received was about Rs300 million. Of this, one third went into overheads,” says Hem Raj Joshi, Chief Administrative Office of Chure village. “The rest was development budget, and the municipality could not spend the conditional budget because it could not come up with specific projects.” The main challenge for village councils has been the lack of capacity for participatory development planning as demanded by constituents. Additionally, the inability to spend the allocated conditional development budget has made it difficult to allocate resources for health, education, energy, or for women or marginalised groups. “In my village, I set aside money for women’s income generation activities last fiscal year, and informed the women to make use of it by coming up with a project proposal, but did not get a single proposal,” says Urmila Thami KC of the Jugu Village. She is vice chair of Gaurishankar rural municipality in Dolakha district. The question now is: are local governments really equipped to deliver development?  “The people have to be active and make the local authorities accountable, and development will definitely happen,” says Dhan Bahadur Thapa Magar, the former Village Panchayat head. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/guest-editorial/radio-sagarmatha-anniversary-resuscitating-democracy-guest-editorial,912" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Revolution through devolution</a>, Bharat Dutta Koirala<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/power-centre,4041" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Power Centre</a>, Om Astha RaiIn remote <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/from-nowhere-to-nowhere/?utm_source=rss&amp;utm_medium=rss" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bajhang district</a> in western Nepal, there are still rural municipalities like Saipal where the nearest road head is two days walk away. On a recent flight from Dhangadi to Kathmandu, the chair of Saipal Rajendra Dhami said proudly: “With the development budget we got last fiscal year, we built two micro-hydros of 22 kilowatts, each which has electrified two wards in the municipality. We promised it to the people, and we delivered.”In the first fiscal year 2017/18 since rural municipality councils were elected, an estimated 90% of the budget has been spent on infrastructure, mainly roads. There have been media reports of the roads being the result of misuse of funds and corruption, but it is also true that people want roads and there is pressure on elected officials to deliver.“As farmers in remote gaupalika, we need roads and irrigation first,” says Jogendra Thakur in Sarlahi district of Province 2. Indeed, a road to Dalit communities in the village opened up the area to development and provided access to market. It is better than distributing a goat or sewing machine.Several generations of Nepalis have been made guinea pigs to test out development fads by donors, experts, scholars, NGOs and INGOS. Yet, after more than 60 years, there was still no clear path to development. Under federalism, however, locally elected officials have found a way to give citizens a voice in spelling out their priorities directly to elected officials. Finally, they can identify and demand the kind of development they need, and force elected officials to be accountable and deliver on promises. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15160#.W6N5aM4zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Power to the people</a>, Mallika Aryal<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Syndicated,108" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Syndicated federation</a>, Bihari K Shresth

Grassroots democracy is delivering development

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.