Three incidents in one week: a detained traveller in Shanghai, a revived claim on Sindh, and a currency note from Kathmandu, reveal a South Asia where small symbols now carry the weight of territorial claims. The danger lies not in armies but in imaginations sharpened into weapons.&nbsp;
It began without spectacle, as many troubles in the subcontinent often do: quietly, almost indifferently, as though history were clearing its throat. A week steeped in a kind of comic solemnity, its events unfolding with the grave absurdity of men arguing over shadows cast on an old, uneven map. One could almost hear the creaking of history’s machinery, answering its own summons, as if reluctant to surrender its favourite mischiefs.
The first murmur, faint but unmistakable, came from Shanghai, where a young woman from Arunachal Pradesh found herself <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c8e9kz127w0o" target="_blank">detained</a> beneath the cold fluorescence of an airport hall. Chinese officials questioned her not-so-gently, an initiation into that peculiar fraternity of those whose identities are disputed not because of who they are, but because of where the lines on someone else’s map would prefer them to be.
And barely had that echo settled when <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/india-news/sindh-may-return-to-india-rajnath-singhs-borders-may-change-remark-9686581" target="_blank">India’s Defence Minister</a>, with the ease of a man accustomed to speaking into the certainties of a friendly crowd, remarked that “Sindh may return to India one day.” He said it with the offhand confidence of a politician who knows mythic geography plays well at home.&nbsp;
But the remark, dropped into the region’s already crowded pool of dreams, loyalties, and inherited grievances, spread outward in ripples – provoking <a href="https://www.telegraphindia.com/world/islamabad-labels-rajnath-singhs-sindh-remarks-delusional-and-expansionist/cid/2134548#goog_rewarded" target="_blank">denunciations</a>, apprehensions, and that familiar tightening of breath that accompanies any suggestion that the past might yet attempt a resurrection. In Pakistan, the words landed not as rhetoric but as portent, dredging up every anxiety sharpened by partition, war, and the belief that memory in South Asia, once stirred, is never quite satiated.
Then Nepal, with its quiet talent for announcing its displeasures through objects rather than declarations, unveiled its <a href="https://www.business-standard.com/external-affairs-defence-security/news/nepal-issues-100-bank-note-with-revised-map-comprising-disputed-areas-125112700551_1.html" target="_blank">new currency notes</a>: each one bearing the imprint of its 2020 political map.&nbsp;
<a href="https://nepalforeignaffairs.com/authenticity-of-lipulekh-border-pass/" target="_blank">Lipulekh, Kalapani, Limpiyadhura</a> – names that have become ritual incantations in the theatre of Himalayan disputes, contested frontiers now printed in neat, official ink. The release was explained as routine. Nothing in this region is ever routine. The moment a boundary is drawn on money, it becomes more than a border. It becomes an assertion, a reminder, a pre-emptive negotiation.
Three events, scattered like windblown leaves across the subcontinent’s restless topography. None catastrophic, none decisive, yet each carrying the faint odour of things unresolved, things forgotten until the moment they are not.&nbsp;
The humour is thin, the unease is thick. They were small gestures: a passport, a proclamation, a banknote, but in South Asia, small gestures have a way of expanding into quarrels no one quite intended and no one quite knows how to end.
Beneath these small episodes lies the harder truth. The subcontinent has slipped into an era where symbols, not armies, do the fighting. Maps, murals, visas, banknotes, toponyms, remarks: each now carries the weight that artillery once did. The provocations are miniature, the meanings are immense. And the region reacts to each with a suspicion that borders on reflex.
China understands this vulnerability better than anyone and does not need to invent South Asia’s sensitivities. It merely needs to press on the ones that already exist. China’s refusal to accept an Arunachal Pradesh passport is not clerical fussiness, it is a demonstration of a worldview.&nbsp;
By turning a lone traveller into a pawn of territorial narrative, <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/china-india-arunachal-pradesh-zangnan-tibet-territorial-dispute-1884895" target="_blank">Beijing enforces its claim to “South Tibet”</a> without firing a shot, and normalises its cartographic imagination through mundane encounters, where the humiliation is individual but the message is national.
It is sovereignty-by-bureaucracy, a slow, grinding assertion that does not need tanks to leave a bruise. The frontier now lives in the immigration cubicle, not just the mountain pass.
India’s '<a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/sindh-may-return-to-india-rajnath-says-borders-can-change-cites-civilisational-link/articleshow/125520334.cms" target="_blank">Sindh may return</a>' remark sits at the opposite pole. It neither denies the sovereignty of others nor confines itself within current boundaries. Instead, it breathes life into an older geography, one that extends far beyond India’s present outline. For Delhi, this is heritage. For Pakistan, heresy. For the region, it is another sign of a political climate in which myth, memory, and maps are all too easily woven into public rhetoric. And rhetoric, once spoken, becomes the shadow of intent.
Nepal’s cartographic gesture is its own form of resistance. It asserts that <a href="https://dkiapcss.edu/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/CH-09-South-Asias-Strategic-Edge_TEKWANI-SAMPATH_10.71236CSFU4789.pdf" target="_blank">small states</a>, too, possess symbolic weapons. A currency note bearing a disputed frontier is not merely a piece of paper, it is a refusal. And refusal, in South Asia, quickly acquires the density of principle.
To understand why these gestures resonate so forcefully, one must return to the deeper architecture on which they fall. The subcontinent carries not one historical geography but three. There is the civilisational past: epics, empires, pilgrimage routes, whose outlines stretch far beyond the borders of modern sovereignty. There is the colonial cartography layered atop it, drawn hurriedly and indifferently by men who never intended to inhabit the lands they demarcated. And there is the postcolonial state, fragile in identity and jealous of territory, inheriting maps it never drew and histories it cannot fully escape.
GEOGRAPHIES COLLIDE
Where these three geographies collide, symbols expand. A remark becomes a blueprint. A detention becomes a claim. A banknote becomes an argument.&nbsp;
All this might have been manageable had the region built institutions strong enough to absorb the shocks. But South Asia built almost none. SAARC remains an empty frame. Meanwhile, India’s crucial bilateral ties, like those with Nepal and Bangladesh, oscillate wildly with the whims of domestic politics. No mechanism exists to catch the fallout of symbolic friction before it hardens into political posture.
This vulnerability is most pronounced around India, which, as the region’s largest power, sits at the centre of the <a href="https://www.hindustantimes.com/india/rss-calls-akhand-bharat-a-cultural-concept-not-a-political-one/story-EcuzYTNZHpqENlmawbPYYP.html" target="_blank">symbolic storm</a>. New Delhi’s own symbolic gestures, often framed as cultural heritage or historical homage presented with a wink, are increasingly read by its neighbours as strategic ambitions cloaked in the language of civilisational memory.&nbsp;
The recent mural of <a href="https://www.tbsnews.net/features/panorama/akhand-bharat-whats-map-645286" target="_blank">Akhand Bharat</a> in the new Parliament building is a case in point. The mural’s outline, invoking a civilisational geography stretching across today’s neighbouring sovereign states, was never going to remain a cultural gesture alone. Imagined maps, however metaphorical, cast <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2023/06/13/india/india-akhand-bharat-map-parliament-intl-hnk#:~:text=To%20India's%20neighbors%2C%20%E2%80%9CAkhand%20Bharat,according%20to%20The%20Kathmandu%20Post." target="_blank">real shadows</a>.
And the ripples did not take long to appear. Nepal hardened its cartography. As a smaller state with a long history of negotiating Indian influence, Kathmandu often has to turn to symbolic gestures to assert its autonomy. The idea of ‘Greater Nepal’, referring to <a href="http://www.historyjournal.net/article/42/2-2-17-612.pdf" target="_blank">pre-Sugauli Treaty boundaries</a> that once stretched into what is now Indian territory, surfaces periodically, not necessarily because the government seeks territorial revision, but because symbols offer a way to resist the gravitational pull of an imperious neighbor.
In <a href="https://www.aa.com.tr/en/asia-pacific/bangladesh-seeks-explanation-over-indias-new-parliament-map/2914993#:~:text=In%20late%20May%2C%20Indian%20Prime%20Minister%20Narendra,*%20Bangladesh%20*%20Sri%20Lanka%20*%20Myanmar" target="_blank">Dhaka</a>, where anxieties over the <a href="https://blogs.library.columbia.edu/global-studies/2020/12/10/citizenship-amendment-act-caa-and-national-register-of-citizens-nrc/" target="_blank">National Register of Citizens (NRC)</a>, and <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/bangladeshi-migrants-are-like-termites-amit-shah/article25017064.ece" target="_blank">recent rhetoric around migration</a> are never far from the surface, the mural was seen by many commentators not as a cultural artefact, but as a visual echo of a political rhetoric that questions the very legitimacy of post-Partition borders.
China, perceptive and opportunistic, seized on the atmosphere to escalate its own symbolic manoeuvres. Every Indian invocation of civilisational memory becomes another opening for Beijing to apply pressure. China, too, draws from its own civilisational memory in framing the border question. Its claim over Arunachal Pradesh rests not only on strategic logic but on a narrative that casts the region as historically tied to Tibet.
The <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/politics/article/3310209/china-reasserts-india-border-claims-fresh-list-standard-place-names" target="_blank">renaming of towns</a>, the issuing of <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/world/what-are-stapled-visas-that-china-has-been-issuing-to-citizens-of-india-1242356.html" target="_blank">stapled visas</a>, and the symbolic <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-66892705" target="_blank">refusal to stamp Indian passports</a> from the state are all actions that gesture toward a deeper historical claim. Each is designed less to provoke than to remind: a steady drumbeat that keeps the dispute perpetually alive. It is a strategy of perpetual, low-grade friction, one mirrored in different forms by nearly every state in the region. In such an ecosystem, symbols do not travel alone. They accumulate, accrete and attach themselves to <a href="https://frontline.thehindu.com/world-affairs/south-asia-anti-india-sentiments-rise-in-neighbourhood-bangaldesh-sri-lanka-nepal-maldives/article68049487.ece" target="_blank">older injuries.</a> They become the whisper that prefaces the quarrel.
The danger is not a conventional war. The danger is something more insidious: symbolic escalation without restraint, without vocabulary, without exit.
Trust erodes quietly. Diplomacy shrinks to damage control. Domestic politics grows drunk on manufactured outrage. External powers deepen their footholds. Negotiation becomes surrender. The symbolic becomes structural. What begins as an irritant becomes orthodoxy. And orthodoxy, once declared, becomes unalterable.
South Asia has survived wars, partitions, insurgencies, and occupations. What it may not survive is the constant abrasion of its <a href="https://www.sas.upenn.edu/~dludden/Sjoshi04.htm#:~:text=The%20region%20continues%20to%20be%20configured%20through,and%20most%20powerful%20state%20in%20the%20region." target="_blank">own imagination</a>.&nbsp;
A map becomes an accusation. A mural becomes a warning. A passport becomes a verdict. A remark becomes prophecy. The politics of small hurts calcifies into the politics of large anxieties. And every actor, large or small, finds itself boxed in by its own symbols.
Somewhere, in the fluorescence of another airport hall, a young woman stands again before an officer who informs her that her identity belongs elsewhere, that her map is incorrect, that her belonging has been misfiled in the registry of another nation. She does not know that she is the site of a quarrel larger than herself. She does not need to. Her uncertainty is enough to sustain it. She is not the crisis. She is merely its silhouette.
The crisis is the map in his mind. And the larger maps behind him, painted, printed, circulated, applauded, contested, and consecrated across a region that cannot decide whether its borders are memories or mandates. Until the subcontinent learns to treat symbols with discipline rather than indulgence, it will remain at war with itself, not through armies but through shadows.
And shadows, once they begin to move, rarely stop where one expects.
Shyam Tekwani is a professor and columnist specialising in security affairs. This article first appeared in <a href="https://thewire.in/south-asia/when-maps-begin-to-move" target="_blank">The Wire</a>.

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When maps move

The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

Ancient heritage meets dern distillery craft as the US-based The Nepali Spirit Company this month makes its global debut with Kathmandu Ayla. Inspired by Nepal’s ancient rice whiskey tradition, the product is the first of four handcrafted spirits that brings Kathmandu Valley’s 1,000-year-old ayla tradition to the world stage. “The first four products combine history, culture, and tradition and it has taken eight years to get to this launch point,” says CEO of The Nepal Spirit Company Kashish Das Shrestha, who is also publishing a book on the history of alcohol in Nepali culture. The other three ayla products are Masala Whiskey aged in Brazilian Amburana casks and spiced with black cardamom from Nepal, Annapurna Ayla, and Haku Chaku Himalayan Espresso Liqueur made with organic Nepali coffee, and chaku (dark molasses).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  “I started visiting international whiskey auctions six years ago and after reading about distilling, my passion for spirits grew, and I felt the urge to tell the story of Nepal’s heritage spirits to the world,” explains Shrestha. Once poured in Nepal’s royal courts, ayla is a clear rice whiskey that is a millennia-old living heritage of Kathmandu used in rituals from birth to death and traditional life milestones of its inhabitants. Ayla is distilled to capture the classic aromas and flavors, with a soft sweet after taste. It can be enjoyed neat, sipped through meals, or enjoyed as shots. With more than 15% of Nepal’s population living and working abroad, there is a cultural demand for ayla in the diaspora from Asan to Amstredam to Australia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1270" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;“We also believe ayla is a wonderful way to tell Nepal’s story to the world,” says Lilu KC Shrestha, Chief Operating Officer of the company. “We intend to use our platform to promote Nepal in any way we can, and also find ways to give back to the country. It was high time a world-class Nepali spirits brand entered the global market, and we are proud to take the lead.” Aside from the ayla itself, the bottle and packaging was conceived by New York-based designer Sahara Shrestha to reflect a complete Nepaliness. “Each bottle and box is a love letter to Nepal, and every detail is an expression of respect and appreciation of Nepali heritage and our desire to share it with the world,” says Kashish Das Shrestha. “And ayla itself is a sacred part of our culture, so we wanted to make sure the bottle reflects this reverence.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> <figcaption>Aylarita</figcaption> </figure>  The bottom of each bottle has an embossed Mandala representing the universe and its interconnectedness. A glass molding of Himalayan peaks Chomolungma and Nuptse signifies the earth and heaven. The bottle cap is a black and gold rendering of the metal plates that hang from Kathmandu’s temples. The logo of The Nepali Spirit Company is also inspired by the unti, a traditional vessel used to pour ayla. While its top is typically adorned with a peacock, the company’s design replaces it with rice stalks. This motif is also on the label of Annapurna Whiskey named in honour of both the mountain and the goddess, the giver of grain. For a new take, ayla can be paired with a lime wedge lathered in honey, cumin, and salt, or on the glass rim. It can also be mixed into cocktails to make Aylarita, Aylatini, or Aylapolitan. <a href="http://www.thenepalispirit.com/" target="_blank">www.thenepalispirit.com</a>, @TheNepaliSpirit

The American Ayla

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

south-asia-map

When maps move

Kangchenjunga in winter

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

The American Ayla

The war between people