<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1cd69c7e80680e0af37ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1331" height="888"/><figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>After a dozen or so people were admitted to a hospital in Delhi with suspected omicron strain of Covid, neighbouring <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-on-high-alert-for-omicron/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal is on a high alert</a> fearing a similar outbreak that ravaged the two countries earlier this year.Although the new variant is said to be more transmissible and resistant to existing vaccines, the good news is that those infected have only reported mild symptoms.Studies the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control (ECDC) have found out that the omicron strain was already circulating in Nigeria from October, and it was already in Europe before flights arrived from South Africa last week.Until more is known about the new virus strain, public health experts in Nepal have recommended that people get vaccinated if they have not done so already, wear masks and avoid crowds for now. The WHO on Thursday advised those above 60 and with co-morbidities to avoid air travel for now.Epidemiologists have recommended strengthening safety measures over travel restrictions, which is often too late to entirely stop the surge as seen during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-real-cost-of-nepals-second-wave/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">devastating second wave</a> in the subcontinent. Nepal has issued travel ban on eight African countries and Hong Kong.“General people are now letting their guards down, public places are most crowded than during normal times, people have all but forgotten about social distancing, and masking has become minimal,” says virologist Sher Bahadur Pun at Teku Hospital.Mutations are natural but the higher the spread of the existing virus, the higher the threat of more virulent variants to arise. Public health experts have blamed the rise of new strains on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/hope-hyperbole-and-hypocrisy-of-covax/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">inequitable vaccine distribution globally</a>.Roughly 30% of Nepalis are now fully vaccinated and with 30 million more doses of various vaccines in the pipeline, the Health Ministry has set a goal to vaccinate the entire targeted population by mid-April. The government has also expanded vaccinations to everyone above 12.Nepal’s vaccine infrastructure and network of community health workers have played a significant role in reaching the far corners of the country with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/do-nepalis-need-covid-booster-shots/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Covid-19 jabs</a>. But now the challenge is to increase vaccine acceptance among those who have so far refused to take it.This means better communicating pandemic risks and training more healthcare workers to administer the vaccine. The information that is regularly shared through the Viber group, composed of hundreds of health officials and open to the public, is not necessarily accessible to everyone due to language barriers.“Covid related information is either in English or Nepali, people who don’t speak either have a hard time accessing them. Language equity has been a major issue,” says Bijay Acharya of the Nepal-Johns Hopkins University Advocacy Group, adding that this has also exacerbated misinformation spreading through Whatsapp and Facebook as people attempt to informally translate and interpret information about the virus.Lack of translation can also affect the ability of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-health-workers-battle-covid-19-but-also-stigma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">community health workers</a>, who act as the front line of information about the pandemic, to counsel their communities on the vaccine and how to best protect themselves.In what is now termed as ‘vaccine discrimination’, the US, Australia and the majority of the European countries do not recognise all the Covid vaccines equally. Such discrepancies have been most notable in the case of labour migrants and foreign students who have been barred from their station because they didn’t receive mRNA vaccines such as Pfizer or Moderna.“Even those who are fully vaccinated with a viral vector booster will only be considered partially vaccinated and there will be lot more issues like this in the future,” adds Acharya.China’s VeroCell <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-jabs-and-jabnots/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">is still largely unaccepted</a> while Indian-made Covishield is not recognised even in countries that accept AstraZeneca. This is unfortunate at a time when Omicron with multiple mutations in the spike protein is on the rise. mRNA vaccines primarily target this protein, rending it ineffective against the new strain.Experts say that only VeroCell, Covaxin which is manufactured by Bharat Biotech, are made from inactivated viruses and are better placed to ward off new spike proteins in mutants.The pandemic has also affected routine <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pandemic-hits-non-covid-vaccines-for-children/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">childhood immunisation</a> in countries like Nepal. Lockdowns and fear of contracting the virus have stopped many parents from travelling to health clinics for measles, polio, whooping cough or tetanus shots. Nepal has also seen a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/children-are-collateral-damage-in-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rise in  maternal and infant death rates</a> during the pandemic due to reduced institutional deliveries.Officials say it will be important for the Nepal government to be prepared with oxygen, ICU beds, medicines and medical staff to prepare for a new Coid-19 surge in spring. A measurement widely used by epidemiologists, called excess mortality, is applied to contextualise the differences in deaths during a pandemic compared to a normal year.Excess mortality data, however, may not be applied in the case of stateless people, have no documentation or property and where families have no interest in reporting deaths. There might also be deaths that cannot be recorded or accounted for. Nonetheless, this will help governments prepare for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/economic-cost-of-5-months-of-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">economic slumps</a> and with informed decision-making.Adds Acharya: “Excess mortality data can be used to predict the future and inform future preparation. Just looking at excess deaths in Nepal in the past five years will give us a good idea about how to respond to pandemics.”

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Nepal needs to prepare for new Covid wave

<figure><img width="1400" height="1050" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110811110/636a28a59c7e80680e045883jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SONIA AWALE</figcaption></figure>For someone who jet sets around the world, hobnobbing with governments and scientists to promote affordable and ecological toilets, Roshan Shrestha found out for himself just how difficult maintaining loos can be during a recent visit to his home in Nepal.The Seattle-based 55-year-old sanitation expert (pictured below) found that the septic tank at his family home below Swayambhu was overflowing. But he had no clue who to turn to, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/where-to-take-a-dump/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">how to get it emptied</a>. “I did not know where to go,” recalled Shrestha during a break at a Faecal Sludge Management Conference last week in Cape Town. “If it was so difficult for me, I can only imagine how hard it must be for the general public.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/toilet-trained/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Toilet trained</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/where-to-take-a-dump/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Where to take a dump</a>, Bhushan TuladharShrestha finally got in touch with a private service provider and got the problem fixed after a few days. With over 30 years of experience in improving sanitation, Shrestha was promoted last month as Deputy Director of the Urban Sanitation Markets at the <a href="https://www.gatesfoundation.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation</a> (BMGF).Shrestha is a leading authority in the field, and involved in the BMGF’s <a href="https://www.gatesfoundation.org/What-We-Do/Global-Growth-and-Opportunity/Water-Sanitation-and-Hygiene/Reinvent-the-Toilet-Challenge-and-Expo" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Reinvent the Toilet Challenge</a> that has scientists around the world competing for the best design of a new generation of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/toilet-trained/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">toilets</a> that do not use water, are cheap to install and easy to operate.Shrestha has been recognised for promoting water and sanitation projects in Nepal with his new responsibility at the BMGF, a philanthropic arm of the founder of Microsoft.Says environmental expert Bhushan Tuladhar: “Roshan is passionate about sanitation, and does not treat it as just another job. He has great commitment and perseverance. His success is well deserved and it is only fitting that the foundation has recognised it.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/getting-our-shit-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Getting our shit together</a>, EditorialThe Gates Foundation’s Brian Abrogast said of Shrestha’s promotion: “Roshan Shrestha has been the best ambassador the foundation could ask for, exuding respect and compassion while generating admiration – and impressive results.”The BMGF’s toilet challenge has prompted top scientists from China, India and other parts of the world to come up with innovative new designs, from solar-powered smart toilets that generate hydrogen and electricity to sanitation systems that convert human waste into biological charcoal, fuel gas, minerals and clean water.Shrestha had humble beginnings in a public school in Kathmandu before getting an MSc from Tribhuvan University in 1988. He worked in a water analysis laboratory to test the water in the Bagmati River. And later founded <a href="http://enpho.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Environment and Public Health Organisation</a> (ENPHO) that specialises in research and monitoring. Later, he got a PhD from a university in Austria in limnology, the study of inland water bodies. On his return, Shrestha successfully marketed the popular water purifier called Piyush.Shrestha went on to introduce Nepal’s first wetland system in Dhulikhel for small-scale wastewater treatment and reuse, and designed Nepal’s first faecal sludge treatment plant in Teku in 1998.“It was at this point that I realised that water quality would never improve without upgrading sanitation. At the root of water pollution is poorly managed sanitation,” said Shrestha, who then became involved in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dont-wait-for-melamchi-nepal,3765" target="_blank" rel="noopener">rainwater harvesting</a> and turned his residence into a model eco-home complete with urine diversion dry toilet.After a stint at UN HABITAT as a South Asia region technical adviser, he was convinced toilet technology had to be less water-intensive to improve sanitation in the developing countries. “We claim to have over 90% <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/getting-our-shit-together/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">latrine coverage in Nepal</a> but most structures do not meet required standards, and that is why we need a new breakthrough in toilets,” said Shrestha.The Gates Foundation has invested heavily in developing new  technologies that can destroy pathogens on site through faecal sludge management.“If a vast country like India can clean up its act, why can’t Nepal? All we need is political will and proactive leadership committed to improving sanitation,” adds Shrestha, whose foundation is currently developing a new course on sanitation at Kathmandu University, and working with Nepal Bureau of Standards on a new <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15235#.XHfVCMAzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">toilet</a> standard.Here in Cape Town at the global conference he helped put together,  Shrestha says his goal is still to go back to Nepal: “I plan to head home, but after we have developed an adaptable technology for safer sanitation in developing countries so we can promote it in Nepal as well.”

Sonia Awale

Toilet trained expert

<img width="1584" height="1108" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a26569c7e80680e043a0djpeg.jpg" alt=""/>At <a href="https://www.international-alert.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">International Alert</a>, as a global peacebuilding organisation, we often point to Nepal alongside <a href="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/%2520identical-political-trajectories-in-Nepal-and-South-Africa,4057&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=0ahUKEwj1r8WljLjgAhVBP48KHQScCPYQFggFMAA&amp;client=internal-uds-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RTo4ewDKjXsEgz2vOJ76F" target="_blank" rel="noopener">South Africa</a> or Northern Ireland as a country working through a peace process successfully, proving that peace can be writ large.  Of course, all three countries are still beset by troubles and the peace is far from perfect. In Northern Ireland, for example, today <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/06/24/implications-of-brexit-for-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Brexit</a> threatens the peace agreement, while in South Africa entrenched economic apartheid persists. But the guns have fallen silent, and stayed silent. Given that globally, half of all peace deals fall apart within 5 years, that is quite an achievement.Recently, International Alert and our partner <a href="http://fwld.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Forum for Women, Law and Development</a> (FWLD) held a meeting in Nepalganj for victims to meet with the local service providers – local government, district administration, the hospitals, businesses and social services. The aim was to get practical help at the local level, while still pushing for a national solution.And <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-struggle-for-transitional-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the scars of war</a>, still unresolved, were still fresh: One man told us how on 8 July 2001, the Maoists cut off his leg, suspecting him of being an informer. Six times he has approached the government offices seeking medical support, but no-one listened to him. <img width="1949" height="777" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a265a9c7e80680e043a0ejpeg.jpg" alt="">The man sitting next to him told us that his leg was cut off the very next day on 9 July 2001: “My house was destroyed and I was tortured by the Maoists. I get interim relief but not adequate compensation. I registered my case with the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/12-years-later-justice-is-a-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Truth and Reconciliation Commission</a> and so want to know what is going to happen next.” He wears an artificial leg, but has to treat himself.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/12-years-later-justice-is-a-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">12 years later, justice is a mirage</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-in-transition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Justice in transition</a>, David SeddonCalmly, patiently, a woman spoke up for all those waiting for men who have disappeared, calling simply for the truth, another for a lost son, another for a missing father. A woman said she was blindfolded and raped by security forces in the barracks. Severely traumatised and suffering from serious uterus problems to this day, she needs medical support and psychosocial counselling. But like too many others, she is left without support and justice.These victims and their families are struggling to be heard by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP), the two bodies in charge of pushing forward transitional justice in Nepal. Both have so far failed to deliver, despite having registered 63,000 complaints. This week, the four-year tenure of both <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-in-transition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">transitional justice commissions</a> were extended, and new Commissioners will be appointed.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/no-country-for-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">victims of sexual assault, rape</a> and torture, for example, have not received any support – no recognition that they are victims, no interim relief, no compensation. That is deeply demoralising for the victims and International Alert has been calling on the Nepal government to support a gender responsive <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/just-not-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">transitional justice process</a>.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/no-country-for-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">No country for women</a>, Shreejana Shrestha <img width="1280" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101148/636a265d9c7e80680e043a0fjpeg.jpg" alt="">These initiatives desperately need substantial funds with matching political will to ensure progress. The wounds of war cannot be left to fester and must be proactively addressed. If the Nepal government seems <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/state-of-impunity,2976" target="_blank" rel="noopener">lacklustre to prioritise</a> these issues, the victims’ groups are full of gritty determination. People are more than ready to mobilise to find the truth, support victims to receive compensation and find new work or to mourn their loved, lost ones. To be more effective, the civil societies and victim groups must come under one common platform to take the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/justice-delayed-justice-denied-transitional-justice,3556" target="_blank" rel="noopener">transitional justice advocacy</a> ahead.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/just-not-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Just not justice</a>, Om Astha Rai<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rocky-transition-to-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rocky transition to justice</a>, EditorialNepal still has an opportunity to move forward the transitional justice process constructively in the coming months and to address truth, justice and reparation for victims. But this work needs the Government of Nepal to step up, and it needs donors to commit. If we want peace to last (and who does not?) then it needs long term, patient investment.Which is why the long time frame of the US Global Fragility and Violence Reduction Act is so vital. The bi-partisan Act was passed overwhelmingly through the House of Representatives on 28 November. If it passes the Senate, it commits the US Government to invest in 10 countries (five  already at war, five fragile) over 10 years, with coordination across all government departments from USAID to the military.Too often, governments lose interest in countries once the crises are past. NGOs are left with one or two-year projects sputtering to an end and no donors in sight to continue investing in building everyday peace. But that is to ignore the evidence and misread the public.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/state-of-impunity,2976" target="_blank" rel="noopener">State of impunity</a>, Editorial<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/justice-delayed-justice-denied-transitional-justice,3556" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Justice delayed, justice denied</a>, EditorialEvidence shows that peacebuilding is effective, and also cost-effective. Every $1 spent on peacebuilding saves $16 in the costs of war, according to the Institute for Economics and Peace. A 2018 global poll undertaken by International Alert with the British Council found the public strongly favour ‘dealing with the reasons why people fight in the first place’ and ‘supporting societies to deal with conflict peacefully’, as effective means of creating long-term peace.So in 2019, the community of peacebuilding organisations will be pushing for the US Act to be passed into law, for other governments to adopt the approach, and for concrete progress for victims in Nepal as another building block of lasting peace.Harriet Lamb, CEO of International Alert and Rabina Shrestha, Manager of International Alert Nepal

Nepal’s transition to peace needs justice

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017. Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force. Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"><figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption></figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Sajha Party in 2013. Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"><figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption></figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022. Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September. In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics. In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film. It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers. But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

It took the September GenZ firestorm and public anger against non-performing actors for a 35-year-old structural engineer and rapper Balendra (Balen) Shah to oust Nepal’s four-time prime minister and former revolutionary.
The UML’s KP Oli has been trounced by 50,000 votes in his home turf, an area where he has won many elections in his 55-year political career. It is the same story across Nepal, where established politicians are being rejected by voters.
A 'Balen Wave' has swept the country, dyeing it in the RSP’s Blue party colour. But the UML and NC particularly did this to themselves.&nbsp;
An apology and a retirement after the September protests would have saved Oli some dignity, and given the rebranded UML a tiny bit of hope and perhaps a few more electoral wins.&nbsp;
Maybe he could have been remembered fondly as the funny old guy who made one last fatal political error, but now he will be defined by this defeat. Maintaining control and legitimacy in his own party will be hard too.&nbsp;
Contrary to his past combativeness and blaming nefarious foreign conspiracies, Oli gracefully conceded on Saturday, congratulating 'Balen Babu' &nbsp;and wishing him 'a successful five years'.
Balendra Shah and his RSP knew what they were doing. As of Sunday, it has won 118 and leads in 7 other constituencies, a lot of them with similarly wide margins of victory. RSP candidates have even beaten well regarded candidates like Gagan Thapa of the NC and Kulman Ghising of Ujyalo Nepal.&nbsp;

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Many including this paper questioned the RSP's strategy of choosing popular candidates over competence. But the point of an election is to win it, and there was a short campaign window to put it all together and the RSP pulled it off most successfully.&nbsp;
To be sure, the party should not get too much credit. Its manifesto was broad and bland, and no different than the other older parties.&nbsp;
A big part of the RSP ballots, maybe even most of it, were people voting against the old parties rather than for it. Many seemed to feel that this was coming, and perhaps even hoped for it.
There is also a sense of lingering cynicism. Nepal has had several revolutions and many new political starts and things always seem to end up in the same corrupt hopelessness. There is every possibility that the new RSP government will also go the same way.&nbsp;
The RSP is much bigger than Balendra Shah, although it was his popularity that made this victory possible. Its victory brings with it a sense of hope as all new things do.&nbsp;
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Not all party members who were elected are going to be as accountable or have integrity. Many of them have a chequered past, saw an opportunity in joining the RSP and took the risk.&nbsp;
What changed things were the events of September. Politicians saw firsthand that 'Power to the People' is not some abstract idea. Get too loose to it, forget that you are ruling and not serving, and you get booted out.&nbsp;
The interim Sushila Karki government deserve credit for delivering on its biggest mandate of holding the election in such a short time frame. The expectation at large was that the polls would be delayed or even scuttled.
In fact, a two-thirds RSP majority is a great opportunity to rethink the country’s political culture and institutionalise change. The point of the government in a democracy is to serve the people. Appointing non-political, competent people worked, at least in the short tenure of the interim government.&nbsp;
Adding layers of bureaucracy and committees and party politics along federal, provincial and local levels heaped resistance to the simple goal of making lives easier for the Nepali.&nbsp;
Nepal is getting a reboot, and the next few months will show whether the country is on the right track with its new generation government.

Balen takes Jhapa and Nepal

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

I was a new mother trying to protect my young family from Covid in 2020, and that was when I first noticed Jacinda Ardern’s leadership. Our own prime minister was spreading misinformation about the strong immune system of Nepalis and our herbal concoctions being antidotes.&nbsp; Later in 2024, Ardern showed up after the mass shooting at mosques in New Zealand with tears in her eyes, and the strong message: “They are us.” It was refreshing to see such empathetic leadership, especially as political news was dominated by elected authoritarians, while Nepal was held hostage by repeat prime ministers.&nbsp; Ardern’s book A Different Kind of Leadership should be essential reading for all Nepalis with political aspirations, especially the new generation that wants real change. The theme that repeats throughout the book is to be human before becoming a politician.&nbsp; The book is not just about Ardern showing up for her people as one of them, it is also about why she decided to show up the way she did, and what brought her to politics to begin with — resolve, a little bit of luck, and stepping up when she had to.&nbsp; Political ambition is not a bad thing. But stepping up to lead when the situation demands it, and knowing when it is time to leave, is what makes a leader. Ardern was given the opportunity to become her party’s deputy leader at a relatively young age, and her party leader resigned — two events uncommon in Nepali politics. Ardern mentions multiple times not thinking of herself as politician material because she has a thin skin, and she talks equally often of her feelings of being intimidated in political spaces, up until she accepted the position of party leader.&nbsp; But she was accountable at a time when we in Nepal were getting used to non-reactions and non-answers from the loud, confident men who played with power. Somehow, somewhere, not least because of the malestream ideas we have been fed about politics and politicians, we imagine that leadership should look a certain way. Strong, macho, loud, confident or even better, overconfident. We imagine that empathetic leadership is soft, is scared to make people angry, is ineffective.&nbsp; LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE Ardern’s leadership was effective. New Zealand had less Covid fatalities than most developed countries, and it went in and out of lockdown with relative ease. Ardern’s approval ratings were high at a very unstable time in politics globally. A significant portion of the chapters that talk about Ardern’s time in office also delve into her struggles being a working mother. But she does not consider herself a supermom who did it all. She portrays herself as simply a working mom, one with lots of support, and discusses how common it is for parents, especially mothers, to juggle work and family. She comes across as one of us. There is a section in the book where Ardern’s daughter asks her the question she has been dreading, and which many of us working moms also face, “Mummy, why do you have to work so much?” Ardern explains that she has a “very important job” and explains it to her three-and-half-year-old as “looking after people”.&nbsp; I put down the book when I reached that sentence. I want the next prime minister of my country to read this book, and then lead. I want the next prime minister of Nepal to think that he (all the top contenders for the job are men, page 9) is looking after people, making sure no Nepali child is undernourished, that people can make a living without risking their lives, hearing the concerns of citizens and solving them.&nbsp; I want him to lead like a woman, like Sushila Karki has been leading for the last six months, with quiet determination and integrity, and without fanfare. I want him to remember that leadership is just service, and that, like Maya Angelou wrote, ‘Your legacy is what you do every day.’ It is not loud speeches and the making of some imagined, glorified history. Karki was picked to lead us back during the black days of early September when the country was in flames. The very first video of her on 9 September, the day after young people and students had been shot by the government that was meant to protect them shows her angry and emotional, her voice shaking.&nbsp; It was Karki’s actions in those days of fragility that showed us, once again, that the leader we deserve gets emotional on our behalf, but also knows how to do the work. After five years of leading her country through a global pandemic, Ardern realised that she is exhausted, that she does not have enough in her anymore to keep leading New Zealand, and she steps down.&nbsp; Towards the end of the book, Ardern tells readers like herself, sensitive and self-doubting, that if we want to be leaders, we should channel our anxieties and sensitivities to humble ourselves, to read more and seek out advice, and prepare ourselves for the challenges. Nepal’s next prime minister has to have these qualities: humility, teamwork, diligence and accountability. Good intention, ambition, university degrees, professional achievements are not enough to change the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; And when they have completed the task, or when they know they cannot do it they must have the courage to step down like Jacinda Ardern.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260308010340_b1c2a873eb640e3f10ab912c368dc9271f12f60d600bf8d5db5d2c13422a317c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Jacinda book details"> </figure>  &nbsp;