<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a95549c7e80680e05dbffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1448" height="2048"/>Film Southasia is held every two years, and in 2019 the theme of the festival of documentary films says it all: ‘Where the Mind Is Free’. Indeed, since the last edition of the festival, the space for free expression is increasingly constricted throughout the region.From 14-17 November, 64 documentaries from the Subcontinent will be shown at Yalamaya Kendra, Patan – many of them films that would be difficult to have a public screening anywhere else in South Asia.  "In the region’s increasingly cloistered space, exclusion seems to be a common concern of the documentaries," says festival director Mitu Varma. "The films focus on the marginalised like growing up in Ladakh, transgender love, and the crisis of Rohingyas and Dalits. Many of the films focus on people who have little in terms of resources, but a huge store of empathy and compassion for all living creatures, that marks them out as more human than many in the so called mainstream  There are five films on Kashmir, and several films on migration and education."By its very definition, the documentary is a film genre that takes time to dwell on social injustices and delve in-depth into the structural reasons for discrimination, inequality, exploitation. Film-makers tend to give voice to the voiceless, show the plight of neglected or abused people whom the mainstream media ignores.With the space for dissent and the marketplace of ideas shrinking all over the region, Nepal remains the last bastion of free speech. This year also, Film Southasia will be showing films that could not be screened elsewhere.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18597#.XcPHuFUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Documenting Nepal</a>, Angelo D’Silva and Diwas KCThe focus of the festival this year is Pakistan, and the opening film Indus Blues profiles the country’s disappearing musical instruments and folk art, given the rightward movement of the state. Other films on Pakistan investigate scavenging ships on the Arabian Sea beaches and the murder of an activist who sought to provide a cultural space called "The Second Floor" in Karachi where all art forms could be shared and different issues could be freely debated and discussed.With most of South Asia living under similar social-political conditions, the  subject matter of the films focus on similar concerns common to all countries. However, there is a lot of experimentation in the form of film-making.There is a documentary shot mostly in the night with striking visuals (And What Is the Summer Saying), another film that simply records conversations that swirl inside a tea shop at the centre of a heated religious debate (Chai Darbari). The documentary about old Delhi with a 400 strong cast of actors straddles the line between fiction and nonfiction (Ghode ko Jalebi Khilane Le Ja Riya Hoon)."There are quiet films with little dialogue, where the story is told with visual imagery, or with the neutral eye of a fly on the wall," explains FSA organiser Alok Adhikari. "The film-maker takes the backseat with these observational techniques lets the story tell itself."This year the festival went digital for the first time, accepting submissions online instead of asking for DVDs to be couriered to Kathmandu. The number of submissions soared to more than 2,500, a testimonial to the rising interest in this form of storytelling.The festival's jury comprises of filmmakers Sumathy Sivamohan from Sri Lanka and Ayisha Abraham from India, and Nepali journalist Kunda Dixit.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17242#.XcPHvlUzbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The world of South Asia</a><h2>8 FILMS from 8 COUNTRIES</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a95579c7e80680e05dc00jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427">Pariah DogsJesse Alk, IndiaA group of people, themselves outcast, poor, and living in slums, take care of street dogs in Kolkata, India.Kabul, City in the WindAboozar Amini, AfghanistanA glimpse into the strained, tenuous life in Kabul where violence is a constant backdrop to daily life.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a95599c7e80680e05dc01jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="329" height="153"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a955a9c7e80680e05dc02jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427">Opium WarsJohn La Raw, MyanmarJade miners who work under dangerous circumstances are being sucked into opium trade, while the state turns a blind eye to the issue of minorities.Scratches on CelluloidVindhya Buthpitiya &amp; Timothy P A Cooper, Pakistan/Sri Lanka/United KingdomWith the rise in multiplexes and home entertainment, days are numbered for traditional matinee theatres.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a955d9c7e80680e05dc03jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181140/636a955f9c7e80680e05dc04jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">The Next GuardianArun Bhattarai &amp; Dorottya Zurbo, BhutanA priest wants his son to inherit the profession, but the son would rather play football and watch Facebook in rapidly modernising Bhutan.After SabeenSchokofeh Kamiz, PakistanHuman rights activist Sabeen Mahmud is shot dead in her car, and the film captures the aftermath of the tragedy.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95639c7e80680e05dc05jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181144/636a95669c7e80680e05dc06jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">Bamboo StoriesShaheen Dill-Riaz, BangladeshThe use of bamboo is dying out, but there are still many whose lives have depended on floating bamboo rafts down river.The Winter TapAashish Limbu &amp; Debin Rai, NepalThe story of the struggle to build a water supply in a remote Himalayan village is not as simple as it seems.

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Film Southasia 2019

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

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108121136/636a3fbf9c7e80680e04a5e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>Pic: Bikram Rai</figcaption></figure>Muslims have been living in Nepal even before this country existed. Before the 15th century, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Tibetan-muslims-celebrate-ramadan,1505" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tibetan Muslims</a> from Ladakh traded in woollen products with the kingdoms of Jumla and Mustang. King Ratna Malla sent emissaries to Lhasa and convinced Kashmiri Muslims to use Kathmandu as an entrepôt for trade with India.The 22 and 24 Kingdoms of Central Nepal brought in Muslim gunsmiths to make muskets and train troops. Others followed in the 17th century to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/assimilating-generations-of-Newari-muslims,2937" target="_blank" rel="noopener">trade in bangles and glass beads</a>, and many of their descendants still ply the trade in Palpa, Patan and Bhaktapur.Today, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2047#.XMfhlMMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims</a> live in all seven provinces, and form 4.4% of the country’s population. The greatest density is in the Eastern Tarai, where some districts like Bara and Rautahat are more than 15% Muslim. Many of the 28 people killed when a tornado tore through villages in Bara on the night of 31 March were Muslim.Anthropologists divide Nepali Muslims into five groups, depending on the time of settlement in Nepal and their place of origin: Kashmiri Muslims, Indian Muslims, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/there-are-muslims-in-tibet-too/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tibetan Muslims</a>, Tarai Muslims (which includes Bihari Muslims from Bangladesh settled in the eastern Tarai), Mountain Muslims and a more recent influx of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ramadan-in-exile/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rohingya</a> refugees from Burma. Despite the diversity within the community, Nepali Muslims have always strived for a common identity based on their Islamic faith.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25910&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali Muslims on the margins</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=25919&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Keeping ghazal alive in Nepalganj</a>, Sewa BhattaraiMuslims have historically struggled to be included in the socio-economic and political mainstream of the country. Despite forming a relatively small proportion of the national population, the Muslim vote bank constitutes an important enough swing vote to be wooed by the national parties.Province 2 Chief Minister Mohammad Lalbabu Raut, of the Federal Socialist Forum Nepal, is the only Muslim chief minister under the federal system. Earlier, he was a member of the Constituent Assembly and as one of the senior-most Muslim politicians, the symbolism of his position goes beyond Province 2.During the Madhes Movement, many Nepali Muslims tried <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/When-Banke-burned,1807" target="_blank" rel="noopener">not to be identified as Madhesi</a>, but their involvement in the 2015 agitation established the clout of this community in the Tarai. Now, Nepal’s Muslims are intent on carving out a distinct identity that is not solely based on religion or the perception of them across the border in India.Although the poverty rate among Muslims in Nepal is not as high as Tarai Dalits, for example, their literacy rate of 40% is much lower than the national average of 65%. Literacy among Muslim women is even lower. There is debate within the Muslim community about the madrasa-based education system and whether it prevents youth from competing for jobs and integrating into mainstream Nepali society.Muslim women, especially, are seen to be unable to participate on an equal footing with their peers.The exclusionary nature of some <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19396#.XMfiJsMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">madrasas</a> have made them an object of suspicion, and greater transparency in their conduct would help both the Muslim community and the nation at large.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/When-Banke-burned,1807" target="_blank" rel="noopener">When Banke Burned</a>, Basanta Upadhyaya<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/assimilating-generations-of-Newari-muslims,2937" target="_blank" rel="noopener">How to braid two cultures together</a>, Seulki LeeNepal’s constitution gives the Muslim community the opportunity to rise and address its shortcomings. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19550#.XMfhbcMza71" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Islamic holy days</a> are now recognised as national holidays and the mainstream press provides adequate coverage to Muslim issues. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15711#.XMfiQcMza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s Muslim community</a> must take advantage of the equal rights of inclusion accorded to Nepal’s faiths and ethnicities.Nepal’s Muslims should not be swayed by the strong slogans and agendas from across the border, or dismayed by what is happening across the Subcontinent. Nepal’s polity provides them adequate space for social, economic and political uplifting.Chandra Kishore is a Birganj-based commentator. datelineterai@gmail.comRead also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ramadan-in-exile/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Ramadan in exile</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Moving to the mainstream

In Southern Nepal, the festival of colours begins with the burning of samat on the eve of Fagu Purnima. Samat consists of five different types of grains, and the burning is called holika dahan. Holika is a Hindu mythical character who personifies evil. Her burning symbolizes the victory of truth.In Birgunj, women prepare the mound of samat during the day. As evening arrives, women and men start singing traditional songs. While the women sing gentle, devotional songs describing gods playing Holi, the men sing loud, boisterous and often romantic songs. Then, men sing and dance their way to the mounds of samat in every neighbourhood, and end the celebrations by burning the samat. Holi then begins by applying colours on each other. <figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a449c7e80680e04590cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Women prepare samat which is made from stalks of five different types of grains and is burnt on Holi eve. The mound also contains piles of cow dung, sacred thread, and other flammable materials.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a479c7e80680e04590djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Devotees flock the Gahwa Mai temple at Birgunj's centre. The temple is lively before Holi festivities start.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a4a9c7e80680e04590ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>The market before Holi festivities.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a4e9c7e80680e04590fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A man prepares his drum called daph by heating it in the front of the fire.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a529c7e80680e045910jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Women of Panchmukhi Hanuman Mandir, Birgunj - 8 sing devotional songs about Holi inside the Hanuman temple.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a569c7e80680e045911jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Lalbabu Sah prepares his dholak before the men start singing.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a599c7e80680e045912jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Men of Panchmukhi Hanuman Mandir, Birgunj - 8 gather in groups to sing boisterous songs on Holi eve.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a5d9c7e80680e045913jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Men begin playing Holi by applying colors to each other at the end of Fagu Purnima.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="4000" height="3000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a619c7e80680e045914jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Men sing and dance to local songs as part of Holi festivities.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a659c7e80680e045915jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A man takes his samat or stalk of grains to burn.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a689c7e80680e045916jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Men sing and dance through their village as they take the samat stalks to burn.</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a6c9c7e80680e045917jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Finally, the stalks of grains are burnt in a ritual called Holika dahan.</figcaption></figure><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a6f9c7e80680e045918jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a729c7e80680e045919jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a769c7e80680e04591ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="640" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811114/636a2a799c7e80680e04591bjpeg.jpg" alt="">Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fagu-purnima-in-bhaktapur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fagu Purnima in Bhaktapur</a>

Holi in Birganj

Nepal has shut down dozens of social media platforms in a move that is widely seen as an effort to tax the revenue they generate in the country, and to control content critical of government. The sites were blocked as of midnight on Thursday, 4 September and affects all Meta products including WhatsApp and Messenger, Threads, and others. Although YouTube, Google and X are also on the government’s list, they were still working as of Friday midday.&nbsp; The government says it took the action after repeated warnings to the platforms to open offices in Nepal, a Cabinet decision last month setting a deadline, as well as a 17 August Supreme Court ruling also requiring them to register and pay requisite taxes. However, the Bill cited in the ban, ‘The Operation, Use, and Regulation of Social Media in Nepal’ has not yet been passed by Parliament. Some social media platforms which were already paying taxes in Nepal even though they are not officially registered, have also been blocked. The move is the latest in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/big-beautiful-bills" target="_blank">a slew of draft legislations</a> designed to undermine Nepal’s open society. A Bill amending the Print and Publications Act would allow district bureaucrats to shut down media. Another draft Bill would allow political appointees to head a new Media Council with the power to revoke the licenses of journalists.&nbsp; A counter-intelligence Bill would let just about anyone in government to arbitrarily tap phones, read emails and trail citizens. On Wednesday the government announced new immigration requirements that would allow it to track the movement of all foreigners in the country. Yet another draft Bill has been set to Parliament to dissolve the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10675" target="_blank">Social Welfare Council (SWC)</a> and move registration and monitoring of non-governmental organisations, nonprofits and charities to the Ministry of Social Welfare. Seen in this light, the blockage of social media platforms this week is seen as the latest government attempt to constrict freedom of press. Nepal is one of the few remaining open societies in Asia, and now appears to be drifting towards authoritarianism. The government’s sudden shutdown of social media has been greeted with howls of protest on platforms that still remain open, like Viber and TikTok, as well as in Nepal’s mainstream press. Even senior members of the ruling UML-NC coalition have sharply criticised the move, asking if the government is trying to “turn Nepal into North Korea”.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025090508098_a2ab330e403e8418a7006cd5e915607382628dd6984524332bf7b99c74743656" data-rendition-name="original" width="4280" height="5187" loading="lazy" alt="social media ban in Nepal"> </figure>  The Regional Director of the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) Beh Lih Yi said in a statement: ‘Nepal’s sweeping ban on social media sets a dangerous precedent for press freedom. Blocking online news platforms vital to journalists will undermine reporting and the public’s right to information. The government must immediately rescind this order and restore access to social media platforms, which are essential tools for exercising press freedom.’ Besides undermining press freedom, blocking social media platforms will also hurt commerce and the economy since so many small and medium business trade through Instagram, Facebook and other platforms. Nepal’s vibrant social media has also been a boost or citizens to assert identity, build solidarity against injustice and play an adversarial role when the mainstream media does not do it. Social media platforms have also become the tenuous link for Nepali families scattered across the world to keep in touch with each other — its importance growing with the increasing size of the diaspora. The government wants social media platforms to register, pay taxes and remove posts on their sites that ‘undermine the national interest and Nepal’s territorial integrity, disturb social and religious harmony’.&nbsp; In response, rights activists have said while there is need for the government to regulate extreme content and hate speech, officials appear to be more intent on clamping down on free speech and trying to force platforms to share the revenue. On Friday, the government had allowed WhatsApp back online, but there were reports that it had instructed the Nepal Telecommunication Authority (NTA) to instruct mobile and internet service providers to block by Friday night all platforms, including Facebook, Instagram, Messenger, WhatsApp, X (Twitter), YouTube, LinkedIn, Reddit, Threads, Snapchat, Pinterest, Signal, Clubhouse, Rumble.&nbsp; Platforms that have registered and are allowed include TikTok, Viber, Nimbuzz, Popo Live, WeTalk, Global Diary and the Nepali portal Hamro Patro. TikTok was banned last year for ‘disturbing social harmony’ and it was lifted after the platform registered its office in Nepal. But even while it was banned, many users simply switched to VPN. Telegram was also banned for ‘financial crimes’ and it has since also been allowed back. NTA officials confirmed that some Asia-Pacific regional offices of platforms, including Meta had been in touch overnight inquiring about the registration process.&nbsp; Nepal is not alone in regulating social media. China bans most Western platforms, Russia and Turkey regulate their and require platforms to locate their data servers in the country. Gulf countries allow social media but keep a tight control on dissent.&nbsp; Experts have said even the government will not dare close down YouTube since so many Nepali individuals and companies make money with posts on that platform, and closing it would also impact on Google and Gmail. Facebook had also just launched a monetisation scheme for videos and reels, and Nepalis uploading content would lose revenue.&nbsp; Blocking the platforms has already hit content creators, influencers and cut small businesses from reaching customers. A survey of social media use in Nepal by Sharecast Initiative showed that 94% of those with smart phones used YouTube, followed by Facebook (92%) while TikTok was in the 50-60% range. X and Instagram were in the single digits. A YouTube ban will also hurt the mainstream media since up to 20% of the revenue of Nepal’s main tv channels came through YouTube. Some 11.1 million Nepalis watch YouTube content every day, the survey showed. ‘For global giants like Meta or Google, Nepal is a small market, and they may not even flinch — but for millions of Nepalis, these platforms are central to daily life, livelihoods, and connections across the world,’ wrote AI consultant Naresh Newar in a LinkedIn post. Some experts said the government’s sweeping ban on social media networks was untenable and the government would be forced to rollback sooner or later. Said editor Shiva Gaunle: “The platforms had given citizens a voice and broken the monopoly of the government, legislators, the courts and journalists over public opinion. This is an effort to reassert that monopoly, but Nepal can never be turned into a North Korea.”

Protest grows against Nepal’s social media ban

It was 30 years ago this month that investment into ‘Baby Arun’, the 201MW first phase of the run-of-river Arun III project, was brought to a screeching halt when the World Bank officially withdrew its support. This brought about profound and fundamental changes in the way Nepal’s power sector subsequently developed. Nepalis suffered debilitating power outages between 2008-2016 due to shortages attributable to the cancellation. At the same time, the gap left by Baby Arun was filled by private sector investment in ways that were not obvious in 1995. It took 30 years, but in many ways Nepal’s power sector is more healthy today than it has ever been, and likely better than if the project was built as planned. At a projected budget of $1.08 billion, Baby Arun would have cost the equivalent of Nepal’s entire annual government expenditure in 1995. It was to be funded by concessional grants and loans from multilateral and bilateral funders, including the World Bank, Asian Development Bank (ADB), KfW, and investment by the government itself. At the time, Nepal’s total electricity generation capacity was only 230MW, and the trajectory of the power sector changed dramatically following the cancellation. In the past 30 years, $5.4 billion has been invested in the power sector led by private investors, and much of it from domestic banks and pension funds (table, right).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250829150840_c13d6f9f34d7163832b3089eabdad6f20d2d5cef3a53039e0432add2be6c32f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="984" height="521" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Nearly 70% of the new megawatts generated were by private independent power producers (IPP) in the past 30 years, while the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) and its subsidiary companies added 30% of new capacity. Almost 80% of total debt financing came from domestic banks and employee retirement funds. International assistance for power generation dropped dramatically over this time, accounting for only about 15% of investment. Before 1995 new power projects used to be entirely dependent on foreign aid. Since 1995, 63% of new generation came from 171 small hydropower projects with an average capacity of 12MW, while 4% was from 21 solar photovoltaic and biomass projects developed by local IPPs.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250829150844_5bc299fc78be90b95ce4727b0b3bdaa4542e17e126718cc8725d136630ffc097" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="503" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  Over three decades, investment in Nepal’s power supply came primarily from new actors that had never before been involved in this sector. The rate of electrification rose from 10% to close to 100% -- sufficient to meet domestic needs during most of the year, and in 2024 made Nepal a net exporter of power to India for the first time in its history. As practically all the new investment in this period went into run-of-river hydro and solar projects, rather than into hydropower reservoirs with seasonal storage, Nepal continues to rely on imports from India during the dry winter months. Surplus electricity generation for export during the monsoon is slated to grow rapidly as another 200 solar and hydro projects are nearing completion of construction, with over 5,000MW of power capacity. Private Power The cancellation of Baby Arun inadvertently accelerated the entry of the private sector into Nepal’s power generation. The government enacted the Electricity Act in 1992 to attract private IPPs and diversify away from total dependence from international aid, but had been struggling for several years to conclude the first agreement with the 60MW Khimti Project. There remained a large gap between the tariff that the government thought was reasonable versus what was demanded by the Norwegian investor Statkraft, and the private sector arms of the World Bank and ADB that were financing the project. The shock of World Bank withdrawal from Baby Arun put tremendous pressure on the government, then led by the UML as it is now. The Bank’s decision to terminate its involvement was ostensibly, at least partially, taken in response to a letter critiquing the project sent by the UML while it was in the opposition.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250829150848_7fb3641d776fe86a09ad60a758f7e16660a409fdb15e541644f13646b0894347" data-rendition-name="original" width="949" height="446" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>BAD NEWS: Newspaper clippings from the early 90s on tender announcement ahead of loan approval (left) and secrecy surrounding environmental assessment (centre) of Arun III before its eventual cancellation in August 1995.</figcaption> </figure>  The government was forced to soften its position and agree to the investors’ terms following the cancellation of Baby Arun. It directed NEA to sign a power purchase agreement (PPA) with Khimti. It was concluded in January 1996, and this was followed by a second PPA in July 1996 with Panda Energy, the American developer of the 45MW Upper Bhotekosi project. The expensive USD-denominated agreements to buy power from two international private producers, with price escalation clauses tied to the New York Consumer Price Index, sent alarm bells ringing. There was worry that the country was heading towards unaffordable tariff rates for the consumer and potential bankruptcy for NEA as a result of inevitable future weakening of the Nepali Rupee. The government had strong-armed NEA into signing these agreements, and realised that concessionary financing terms that Nepal was used to receiving for public sector projects such as Baby Arun and Kali Gandaki A, that included below-market interest rates and 40 years repayment period with a 10 year grace period before starting repayment, were not the norm for private sector investors. Nepal’s status as a less than attractive destination for foreign investment meant that the country had few options but to accept expensive dollar PPAs from international developers with the high commercial interest rates and short repayment periods imposed by their banks because of high investment risks. In the end, the government ended up having to additionally provide a sovereign guarantee in order to close the deal at the insistence of the lenders – committing it to repayment in case NEA defaulted on paying the IPPs. It is reasonable to assume that the extraordinarily high political cost of agreeing to the PPA terms would have meant that no government would have willingly agreed to them in 1995 had it not suffered the trauma of the loss of concessionary-financed public sector projects as large as the Baby Arun. It has taken NEA 25 years to consider offering dollar-denominated PPAs again: to cover the foreign exchange portion of the investment in the 216MW Upper Trisuli-1 and 120MW Rasuwa-Bhotekosi Hydropower projects. It seemed unlikely at the time, but it turned out that the dire situation Nepal found itself in 1995 planted the seed to mobilise investment for affordable power from within the country. Double Whammy After the dual shock of first losing investment in Baby Arun and having to sign expensive power purchase agreements with international IPPs, the first proposal for an alternative strategy to mitigate the risk of foreign currency investment into hydropower projects came from a group of engineers within the Arun III team at NEA. Led by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4900">Deputy Director Damber Bahadur Nepali,</a> engineers convinced the leadership that NEA needed to invest in a subsidiary company to build a series of locally-designed and domestically-financed projects that would have lower cost with rupee-denominated PPAs. They registered the Chilime Hydropower Company Limited (CHCL) in October 1995 with 51% shares from NEA, 25% from its employees, and 24% available for the general public, 10% of which was prioritised for local residents at the project site. The 22.1MW project is in Rasuwa on a tributary of the Trisuli, and mobilised debt financing from the Employee Provident Fund, which manages retirement savings for employees of the government, public enterprises, and private sector institutions. CHCL’s experience showed that NEA employees themselves believed that individual hydropower projects with operational independence from NEA could be developed profitably in Nepal by its own engineers -- and they were willing to put their own money on the line. Chilime also demonstrated that there was money in the country, particularly with retirement funds, looking for opportunities for long-term investments. Following completion of Chilime in 2003, CHCL led the formation of three other NEA subsidiary companies that completed construction in 2023 and 2024, producing 168.3MW using fully rupee-tied investment. NEA’s largest subsidiary, the Upper Tamakosi Hydropower Limited, completed construction of its 456MW plant in 2021.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250829160812_ce9ab8b49c598970db3f5bf0a079061ef52f153b28d9f4ead2bb1b26bfd7c2f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1571" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> <figcaption>DAMNED: The $700 million 456MW Upper Tamakosi built entirely with domestic funds before it was destroyed by the September floods last year. </figcaption> </figure>  There were some delays and cost overruns on this run-of-river project, the largest in the country with a final cost of over $700 million -- all of it sourced domestically. The five subsidiary companies launched by NEA have produced almost two times as much new power as NEA has over the past 30 years. Seven other NEA subsidiaries are currently constructing projects to add another 474MW to the national grid. But even more important than NEA subsidiaries have been local IPPs: Nepali companies which have over the past three decades enthusiastically entered the hydropower sector. From a regulatory perspective, the credit for mobilising domestic private investment to engage in power generation goes to Minister of Water Resources Shailaja Acharya, who in 1998 offered a flat feed-in-tariff of Rs4/kWh for hydropower projects under 10MW. This upfront offer removed a major barrier that early developers had faced of having to spend money to carry out a detailed feasibility study before they could even start tariff negotiations with NEA. She had laid the foundation stone of the Chilime project, and proved to be the champion of opening up the sector for domestic IPPs. The guarantee of a PPA with a fixed tariff, irrespective of project specifications, gave small power developers the confidence to apply for survey licenses and invest in feasibility studies so they could directly approach commercial banks and make a case for their project producing required revenue to repay loans. Domestic IPPs started adding power to the national grid in 2002. Their contribution was initially modest, and first projects were small and commercial lenders who took time to be confident about providing debt financing to a sector which had previously not been considered suitable for private sector investment. While the first 10 years were slow, with less than 10MW being added to the grid each year, this increased twenty fold over the following ten years, resulting in the equivalent of a Baby Arun being added by Nepali IPPs to the grid each year. A total of 84 IPPs added 232MW, 328 MW, 454MW, and 400MW of new generation to the grid in 2021-2024 (graph). There was explosive, exponential growth as domestic developers have surged ahead to account for 76% of the new megawatts added to the grid since 2020, compared to 24% by NEA and its subsidiary companies. The megawatts that IPPs are adding have followed the classic ‘hockey stick curve’ with the ‘breakout point’, signaling the rapid growth phase in 2020. Private producers are expected to accelerate new generation in the coming years with 300 solar and hydropower projects adding 11,000MW. Another 166 hydropower and 96 solar projects are currently in the survey stage, and are in line to add another 11,000MW to the construction pipeline. One major challenge is finding financing required for the projects. Domestic investment will no longer be sufficient to finance this ambitious pipeline of renewable energy projects. Project developers as well as NEA and the Electricity Regulatory Commission will have to leverage their substantial experience accumulated through the construction of over 200 projects to attract regional and international investment and hedge the risks of dollar-denominated PPAs. Following the cancellation of Baby Arun, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/people-power/decentralising-power-in-nepal">Nepal developed a highly distributed power sector</a>. The national electricity grid is currently supplied with power from a remarkably decentralised array of hundreds of hydropower and solar photovoltaic projects spread across 43 districts and all seven provinces.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250829150848_0c3aa66b34bfb08380a624f397bf3ebb4126f4d6b41a26115848b496876f501b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1228" height="867" loading="lazy" alt="30 years after Baby Arun"> </figure>  This presents a sharp contrast to the pathway of a few large public sector hydropower projects with a sprinkling of private sector projects that was envisioned as part of NEA’s investment planning when Baby Arun was being considered the front runner for investment. The strategy then was to allow public sector investment in a few large hydropower projects with thermal plants to fill the gap. Knowing what we know now about acceleration of climate change impacts and increased extreme weather events, following this path would have made Nepal’s power sector highly vulnerable. Decentralised generation greatly improves the resilience of Nepal’s power supply as damage to power plants in one part of the country need not affect other areas that have their own generation. Following the investment plan where over two thirds of the country’s power supply would have come from power plants on the Arun River, would have greatly imperiled Nepal’s energy security. All rivers in Nepal are susceptible to flooding from cloudbursts made more frequent by climate change. The Arun River which is fed by glaciers in Tibet is also at risk to glacial lake outburst floods. Bikash Pandey is Director of Clean Energy and Circular Economy at Winrock International. People Power is his regular column in Nepali Times on global energy issues relevant to Nepal. <h2>Decentralised and Diversified</h2> In the 30 years since the cancellation of ‘Baby Arun’: Hydropower projects constructed cover capacities ranging from less than 1MW to 456MW and developed by IPPs from across the country with strong local involvement in purchasing equity shares. Renewable energy sources contributed to the generation mix through solar IPPs that further contribute to climate resilience, and cover shortfalls during low rainfall. The government is committed to solar contributing 10% of the power on the grid. Increasing solar beyond this target and providing incentives to project developers to invest in utility-scale battery storage would further improve resilience. BIG ARUN: The 900MW Arun III project under construction since 2018 at Num in Sankhuwasabha (pictured, below) is a separate initiative by a different project developer using a different financing modality. The ‘Baby Arun’ version of Arun III was cancelled in 1995.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250829150852_df534df5166eb5a9bb4cbe101627bdec7ac1df2a405a9d3988d1c86fcc8ecdeb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1312" loading="lazy" alt="30 Years after Baby Arun"> </figure>

30 years after Baby Arun

<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2fZXyjsE28" target="_blank">Yog Narendra Malla</a> became king at age 18, and ruled Patan from 1684-1705 — his reign marked by a cultural and architectural renaissance of the city state. He put up a statue of himself in the palace square with a little bronze bird sitting on the guardian serpent above his head. It is said he told his subjects that he would look after their welfare till the day the bird flew off. During<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> the 2015 earthquake</a>, the pedestal collapsed and the statue was damaged. The bird was lost, only to be located in a pile of debris and reinstated when the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/piece-by-piece-patan-darbar-square-reconstruction,3782" target="_blank">statue was consecrated</a> two years later. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/x2fZXyjsE28?si=jYfIb4p6zCLXYQ1T" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> History remembers Yog Narendra Malla as a wise king, but like most<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home"> royalty of the day</a>, he had a weakness for women. He is supposed to have consorted with 30 queens and numerous concubines. At least 33 of them self-immolated themselves on the king's funeral pyre when he died, adhering to the prevailing <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/Jhola,947">practice of sati</a>. When Yog Narendra Malla’s favourite queen found out that he was carrying on with yet another woman, she got the local community of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood to stage a shadow sex play to quite literally expose his unfaithfulness. Actors enacted the explicit exploits of the king and his mistress, a bright butter lamp projecting the moving shadows of their lovemaking on a thin white drape to entertain those gathered in the square below. The queen made sure that the show was designed to face the home of the king’s paramour to shame them both. She also paid for a group to chant a bhajan with lyrics that ridiculed the king’s extramarital affair. The Jhyalcha Guthi community trust that the queen set up three-and-half century ago is still active to this day, and performs the annual shadow play in the same building in Kwelachhi the day before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-legend-behind-the-myth-of-indra-jatra">Indra Jatra </a>every year. This year’s show is on Friday evening, 5 September. The opening lines of the chants that accompany the play are the same words approved by the queen all those years ago: “Raja Yog Narendra ya aparadh…” (King Yog Narendra’s crime…) The community leader of the Kwelachhi neighbourhood, 62-year-old Baburaja Awale, explains the importance of the event: “This Jhyalcha is our<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303"> intangible heritage</a> and oral history. We do not have a written format, it has been passed down from generation to generation. Every word of the bhajan is the story of King Yog Narendra Malla.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250904070952_249e85b32cbd99bb8515151557e0ec1a65d44a34ef1aacabaaeb469622d12664" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1167" loading="lazy" alt="Sex and the city of Patan"> <figcaption>The statue of Yog Narendra Malla being reinstated after it toppled in the 2015 earthquake. Photo: GOPEN RAI/ NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Jhyalcha Pyankha, as the ceremony is called, starts with a puja for the Bhimsen — the god of wealth and prosperity, a popular <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-homecoming-of-nepal-s-gods">deity in Patan</a> who has a temple dedicated just to him in the palace square. This is immediately followed by a bhajan of Bhairab performed with <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-house,670">traditional Newa musical instruments</a>. Community members serve snacks consisting of samay baji beaten rice, water buffalo chunks, soybean, green veggies, lentils, ginger, garlic and aila liquor. “In the first act of the shadow play, the man initiates the lovemaking, and in the third it is the woman,” says Laxmi Lal Awale, also a member of the trust that organises the show. The shadow action is all uncensored, but interspersed with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/between-the-sacred-and-everyday">scenes of everyday life</a>: the woman is spinning a thread, the king is going about his royal chores, and the two sit down to share sanacha fermented pickle that is popular this time of year. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qZ3twuG1wNQ?si=yRfkoC3A-X9cIl8r" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> “Back then, there was no tv, films or YouTube, and yet we managed to stage the shadow play using our own resourcefulness,” says Baburaja Awale. “It is important to continue the tradition.” The challenge now is to ensure that the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-reign-of-the-god-of-rain"> younger generation takes over</a>, learning the lyrics of the ancient bhajan. The dafa khala group that performs all over Patan during festivals and religious events is now training teenagers to play the musical instruments and act in the shadow play. The Jhyalcha was staged even after the 2015 earthquake when the falcha where the bhajan is performed collapsed and they made-do in a tin shed. The structure was later rebuilt with a grant from the group, Photo Circle. Lalitpur Metropolitan City sets aside a budget of Rs50,000 to organise the Jhyalcha Pyankha every year, but this is not enough and is supplemented by individual donations. The performers including musicians and actors are all volunteers, and take part in it because it is their community duty. The erotic shadow play was way ahead of its time, not just in its graphic content but the use of contemporary local technology as well as improvisation and pure imagination. Says Laxmi Lal: “Whatever its origin in the legend of King Yog Narendra Malla and his queen, Jhyalcha also served as a medium of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lets-talk-about-it">sex education</a>. In the past, women were discouraged from watching the shadow play, but today everyone is welcome, we all watch it together.” Jhyalcha Pyankha Kwelachhi, Chyasal, Patan 7PM onwards Friday, 5 September

Sex and the city of Patan

This is the 72nd episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father ran a store and that is where I spent all my time till Grade 6. Doing my homework. Serving customers. I then moved to my maternal grandparents’ house because I used to get along with my cousin who was a year older than me. We did everything together, and were best friends. We took turns studying: I was a night owl, and he was an early riser. Before I went to bed after studying all night, I woke him up. My mother was 44 when I was born, the same year my eldest brother got married. My sister-in-law becoming a part of our family was how my mother referenced my age. I liked making money, and was always a hustler. In Grade 7, I learnt to handle a tractor and helped my brother-in-law to plough, earning Rs10 a day. As I got better, he paid me more. By Grade 9, I was already making Rs500 per day, but had to slow down to prepare for my exams. From an early age I knew I did not want a 9-5 job. There just wasn’t enough money in it. I wanted to get into business, and compared my brother who worked in the post office and what businessmen made. It did not help that my brother was honest, and never took bribes. A friend and I made money selling cheap Chinese phones at a premium to our friends. We blasted music on the phones and pretended that we were giving them a discount. After SLC, I started teaching math and other subjects. I was soon a shareholder in the same school and in the evening I was involved in our family’s floriculture business, growing amaranth and marigold for garlands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250831020844_1b54b999d67122a50c4c7e6204cc737bcc99bf2a68db6499a4566a7f61a880b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="955" height="1314" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  It was then that a friend suggested we learn the Korean language. We could be earning significantly higher in Korea for similar efforts. I had no plans to go abroad but he convinced me. I did not know anything about Korea, and was scolded at the language institute when I asked someone to point Korea on the map.&nbsp; It was only there that I learnt you had to pass an exam for the Korean Employment Permit System (EPS), and pay for language classes. After a week, I decided it was not for me and dropped out. But my friend convinced me to give it one more try. I did not prepare much for the exam, and it was no surprise that I failed. But it was just by one mark, and people would pity me for failing “just by one mark”. It was a brand of failure. It hurt my ego. I had to turn things around by taking the exams seriously, and locked myself up to study hard.&nbsp; Even when we had visitors, my wife told them I was not home. If I was not in my room learning Korean, I would be with a group of ten of us test-takers comparing notes and practicing late into the night. The exam was difficult, but this time I passed, the only one in my group who did.&nbsp; As someone who never liked the idea of doing a job, I still had my doubts about going to Korea. It did not help that one of my acquaintances had returned a month after he had left, and he discouraged me from migrating given that I was already making good money in Nepal.&nbsp; But my wife suggested that I give it a shot since I had worked so hard for it. And if it really turned out not to be my cup of tea, I could always return. What did I have to lose, I thought, at least I would get to visit Korea. My job there was in an electrical company that made circuit boards. I worked all day, earned good money. In the evenings, I kept myself busy with my real estate business back in Nepal. I had learnt the tricks of the trade from fellow real estate agents back home, but at the time did not have the capital to invest.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250831020848_941e961e2045058f255ad89884b51faa7d2365c68236e5cbe573d63d769ac6c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  In Korea, it helped that I had salary records that allowed me to get loans from financial institutions both in Korea and in Nepal. Ultimately, I started earning more from my real estate deals in Nepal than from my job in Korea. This was all thanks to my ability to take loans because of the EPS scheme. My wife has been managing the flower business while I was away. My finances grew stronger over the eight years I was in Korea. I paid off the loans that I had borrowed to buy land. But real estate did not satisfy me entirely. I wondered: what is my brand? What will I be known for? What is my contribution to society? Real estate is for wealth, but that is about it. I needed to sell one piece of land and use the revenue to start a venture. I took classes in business, and returned to Nepal six months ago and got back to my family’s ancestral roots in floriculture. In Nepal too, I am continuing the entrepreneurship training I had started in Korea with the Bridge International. Such exposure helps us reflect on our business such as our branding, vision, and proactive aspects like the importance of strong recordkeeping.&nbsp; I am now working to upgrade and expand my floriculture business. With a friend who is still in Korea I am building a cooling room to increase the shelf-life of flowers and other produce and set up a market in my village where others can sell their produce. Floriculture is our primary business, but it is seasonal and earns good money only during festivals like Tihar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250831020848_a008ffeba13896e6918f68ff6e687c8fe11140d86a96f1ec11690547f2bcd415" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 72"> </figure>  So, I grow tomatoes to ensure year-round earnings. I also am engaged in other businesses like real estate and online shopping. I work round the clock in Nepal — a strong work ethic is something I picked up in Korea.&nbsp; My Korean bosses would work alongside us, that motivated us. I work just as hard in Nepal as I did in Korea. People here often ask me why I am pushing myself so hard. But making garlands comes easy to me, it is work my forebears were involved in. My childhood memories are about plucking flowers with my sister. I have a comparative advantage in this work. It comes naturally to me, it is easy and I enjoy it. And sometimes, if there are too many garlands to make, I can multitask while holding meetings. My fingers just fly. I am good at this job, but my wife is even better and faster.&nbsp; When there is too much load, we can also outsource the work. To be known as the flower guy would be great personal branding. The मखमली guy. Or the सयपत्री guy. I decided to come home for just this with a one-way ticket. “अब पासा: जाँदैन ल्हासा!” &nbsp;

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