Like a delicate mandala emerging from meditative silence, a new wave of spiritual cinema has been gently transforming Bhutan’s cinematic horizon. It is a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-ranjana-renaissance">renaissance</a> that represents more than just an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/south-asia-in-the-abstract">artistic movement</a>, it is a dialogue between cultural memory and contemporary expression. The filmmaking style feels closer to what Paul Schrader in his book Transcendental Style in Film. Unlike psychological realism that characterises much of contemporary cinema, this transcendental approach expresses spiritual states through austere camerawork, performances stripped of self-consciousness, and editing that resists <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/suburban-tales/the-tenderness-in-men">narrative manipulation</a>.&nbsp; Like the Buddhist <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/medication-to-meditation-in-the-mountains">practice of meditation</a>, these films ask viewers to witness life's complexities with gentle awareness, to see beyond surface narratives and touch the underlying currents of human experience. At the centre of this movement stands Khyentse Norbu — a figure with delicate crossing of spiritual wisdom and art. Norbu is not just a director but a Buddhist lama who is said to be the incarnation of the 19th-century saint, Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo.&nbsp; His debut feature, The Cup (1999), is about young monks in a Himalayan monastery who are passionate about soccer, showing that spirituality can harmoniously coexist with worldly interests. This film marked a pivotal moment in Bhutan’s cinema, emerging from Norbu's experience assisting Bernardo Bertolucci during the filming of Little Buddha. In his latest film, Pig at the Crossing, Norbu works with the Buddhist concept of Bardo, the liminal space between death and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/rebirth">rebirth</a>, where consciousness navigates the terrain between dissolution and transformation.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250205030228_e327b58a04981953011579c9e5ddb61abc9a145172577232738a8e8b12e5bc63.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250205030228_e327b58a04981953011579c9e5ddb61abc9a145172577232738a8e8b12e5bc63" data-rendition-name="original" width="5461" height="7016" loading="lazy" alt="Pigs at Crossing"> </figure>  &nbsp; The film's protagonist, Dolom, becomes a metaphorical pig at a metaphysical crossroad, his journey representing deep-seated attachments and the potential for spiritual liberation. Buddhism views this transition as a unique opportunity for consciousness to release its entanglements of guilt, shame, ignorance, and glimpse a more expansive understanding of reality.&nbsp; The movie treats death not as an end, but as a chance for understanding. It shows life as a kind of dream where people can find freedom through their struggles. When the film suddenly cuts to black, it leaves Dolom's fate unclear. This ending invites viewers to think about their own experiences, much like life’s open-endedness. Pig at the Crossing carries deep spiritual insights, but falls short technically compared to Norbu's previous works like Travellers and Magicians and Hema Hema. The film feels less polished, with editing that sometimes loses its rhythm and visuals that do not quite match the profound ideas it tries to explain.&nbsp; Yet, this very imperfection might be intentional — a reflection of the film's central theme about life’s inherent unpredictability.&nbsp; Along with his mentor Khyentse Norbu, Pawo Choyning Dorji emerged as a compelling new voice in Bhutan’s film industry. He was an assistant director to &nbsp;Norbu in his film Vara: A Blessing, and later produced Hema Hema: Sing Me a Song While I Wait.&nbsp; Dorji’s first film as director, Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, brought international attention to Bhutan’s cinema. His latest film, The Monk and the Gun, continues to showcase his directorial talent. Set in 2006 during the kingdom's transition to democracy, the film presents the tableau of a society navigating the delicate balance between traditional values and modern <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/everything-is-political">political processes</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250205030228_f3b72361dfbc230a46e7463ac006b9e8fa7349c2cad4a2137e0c13e9b3850c07.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250205030228_f3b72361dfbc230a46e7463ac006b9e8fa7349c2cad4a2137e0c13e9b3850c07" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="The monk and the gun"> </figure>  Through a narrative that follows a rural monk, an election official, and various villagers, Dorji crafts a subtle critique of democratic implementation that goes far beyond the political process. The film introduces Ronald Coleman, a not-so-subtle homage to the actor Ronald Colman from Lost Horizon, who serves as a stand-in for America.&nbsp; The film's true brilliance lies in its ability to reveal cultural complexities through seemingly mundane interactions. Dorji uses Bhutan’s mock elections as a test to examine how external political influence can disrupt communal harmony, highlighting the tension between imposed <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/is-democracy-too-expensive-for-nepal">democratic ideals</a> and indigenous social structures.&nbsp; The motifs of guns, television, and international media serve as metaphors for cultural penetration, suggesting that true progress is not about external prompts, but about maintaining fundamental human connections and collective happiness. The film offers a subtle message, especially in the context of what is happening in &nbsp;America. The Monk and the Gun offers a watchable but tepid satire that lacks real bite. Dorji's approach feels overly cautious, rendering what could have been a sharp cultural critique into a forgettable narrative. The result is a film that is neither bad nor particularly memorable. Bhutan's film industry has long been influenced by Indian cinema, with many early films closely following Bollywood trends. But there has been a significant change in the past two decades, filmmakers started to develop their own unique approach. The future of Bhutan’s cinema is bright, as if the filmmakers have found their original voice. Perhaps this movement can be called ‘Cinéma du Dharma’, a term one could easily imagine being on the pages of Cahiers du Cinéma.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025020508028_4af8d9bc9974e00702f71ba6c9391188b1252e0850c93d51e0885d895b080d4f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025020508028_4af8d9bc9974e00702f71ba6c9391188b1252e0850c93d51e0885d895b080d4f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutan's filmmakers"> </figure>  Beyond Norbu and Dorji, there are other talented directors in Bhutan’s new wave: &nbsp;Dechen Roder, Tashi Gyeltshen, Karma Takapa, and Ugyen Wangdi. Then there is Arun Bhattarai, whose feature-length documentary Agent of Happiness follows a surveyor who measures happiness, and in the process gently ribs Gross National Happiness. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/min-bahadur-bham-s-cinematic-quest">Min Bahadur Bham’s cinematic quest</a>, Abishek Budhathoki Like the transformative cinema movements that have emerged across the globe, Bhutan’s filmmakers are redefining storytelling that is uniquely rooted in their cultural context. Their approach transcends geographical representation, offering a meditation that melds spiritual insight with artistic dialogue.&nbsp; Through films that resist traditional narrative constraints and Western cinematographic conventions, they are crafting a distinctive new language of cinema.

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Bhutan's New Wave

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b932b9c7e80680e06f18ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1778" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: HERNE KATHA</figcaption></figure>The Euro 2020 matches are live on television, and many are watching the replays the next morning. But what is really going viral in Nepal these days is a short program of grandmothers playing a football match in the mountains of Lamjung district.Two teams made up of members of the local Mother’s Group of Siurung village face each other on a school football ground. The clip of the match is on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hernekatha" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">social media</a> accounts of the web series <a href="https://hernekatha.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Herne Katha</a>, and is accompanied by a running commentary, complete with slow motion replay of a free kick that is saved by goal-keeper Yoju Gurung.“We saw the grandchildren playing, and I thought why shouldn’t I also have a go at it before I die,” says 67-year-old Gurung.<blockquote>आजको फुटबल खेल पनि सुरु हुनै लागेको छ । आमा समूह दुई वटा टिममा बाँडिएका छन् । रेफ्रीले खेल सुरु भएको संकेत गरिसकेका छन् । लताकुञ्ज विद्यालयको रंगशालामा भइरहेको खेल हेर्न खचाखच दर्शक उपस्थित छन् ।<a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/chhotokatha?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#chhotokatha</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/hernekatha?src=hash&amp;ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#hernekatha</a> <a href="https://t.co/QwD7FHIWoM">pic.twitter.com/QwD7FHIWoM</a>— Herne Katha (@hernekatha) <a href="https://twitter.com/hernekatha/status/1404419600905904137?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">June 14, 2021</a></blockquote>Posted on YouTube and broadcast on Kantipur Television every alternate Tuesday at 6:30pm, the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZuKpNyipL9W-OkKwCMwVNQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">web series</a> Herne Katha has uplifting stories of struggle, survival and triumph — a message especially important at a time when Nepalis are suffering such hardships.Manjuliya Devi walks briskly through her village Morang district, going house to house to cut the hair and trim beards of residents. She has little time to waste, wedding guests are lining up. Her son wants his elderly mother to stop working, but Manjuliya Devi says she will not stop.Near the Dang-Rolpa border, Yam Bahadur Gharti and his young son Purna Bahadur work in the districts’ coal mines, deep in the belly of the scraggly hills. Father and son have taken a break for lunch, and talk about families back home who depend on their earnings.In Surkhet, a clan of Raute nomads prepare to pack up their settlement and move on to the next in Surkhet. Their timeless method of Swidden farming is now <a href="https://nt.exposure.co/last-but-not-least" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">threatened</a> by roads and monetised markets.In Marpha of Mustang district, village elders are alone in the village below Dhaulagiri with their livestock and dogs. Everyone else has moved down to Kathmandu or Pokhara to escape the harsh winter.These recent programs on Herne Katha unite Nepalis by showing us the lives of other Nepalis, providing hope and optimism at a time when most have little of both. The series that began airing in 2018 is created by ex-BBC journalists Bidhya Chapagain and Kamal Kumar who are constantly on the road to the remotest corners of Nepal to profile ordinary Nepalis living extraordinary lives.Kumar and Chapagain met in 2003 when they took up a job at the same radio station. Kumar had come to Kathmandu after high school and enrolled in a journalism program, having, as he puts it, fallen into journalism. Chapagain had also always wanted to be a journalist. As their careers progressed, their paths would constantly cross.“In those early days, our work almost exclusively involved going to the Reporters Club and waiting around for the politician of the day to give their speech,” recalls Kumar.Chapagain nods, adding: “Or we would have to go to hotels to cover workshops and conferences.”They are seated, Chapagain on the floor and Kumar on a beanbag chair, and complete each other’s sentences with the ease of two people who have been colleagues for a long time.In locked-down Lalitpur, their office is quiet but for the sporadic rain outside and the occasional click of the mouse as the editor, Sandesh Pariyar, works in the other room on an upcoming project.Kumar and Chapagain both worked for BBC Media Action’s debate program Sajha Sawal as producers. Chapagain would eventually become the presenter of the popular show, a role that propelled her to celebrityhood.Yet even as their careers flourished, professional discontent had begun to creep in. The structure of the show, the Kathmandu-centred happenings, and interviewing politicians had become tiresome.The two got along and worked well together, and at tea break would talk about doing something different, something more fulfilling. When they quit the BBC they were still not sure about the next stage in their careers, and the only thing they knew for sure was that they wanted to keep working on video.Without equipment, they rented a small room as an office and started to brainstorm. Says Chapagain, “We got out of our comfort zone and took a risk. It was fearful and exciting at the same time.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b932f9c7e80680e06f18fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It was not until they were working on their documentary Marisakeko Manchhe, which won the Nepal Panorama Best Documentary at the Kathmandu International Mountain Film Festival, that they realised what kind of stories they wanted to tell. Herne Katha was born and uploaded its first video three years ago about young female Muslim students in Kapilvastu.“We had hoped for at least 20,000 views, but we got almost 50,000 in two days,” Chapagain remembers.Getting out of a structured media environment allowed the two to be more flexible and experimental. It also made them accountable for their own content, says Kumar.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b93339c7e80680e06f190jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3264" height="2448">Editor Sandesh Pariyar joins in the conversation, and says it is the power of the story that is most important. And it has to be told with a minimalist approach in editing and camerawork, so that there are no distractions from the story being told.Pariyar is a visual editor, and relatively new to the team. He says about his previous job, “I used to sit in the editing room and I could predict exactly what a politician would say and when even before I saw the clips. That is why I quit.”Three years on, things are changing, and the storytellers agree it is largely due to the increasing reach of YouTube, with 60% of Nepalis surveyed saying they use the platform.  Almost 70% of the Herne Katha viewership is in the 18-35 age group and the program is very popular in the Nepali diaspora.“Once, in a remote village in Achham, a young man asked if I was from Herne Katha,” says Chapagain, who says the views on YouTube and being frequently on the trending list proves that their program is spreading a powerful positive message.“Some of our best stories have come from the audiences themselves,” Chapagain says. One such program was Mayako Katha, about a family in Kupondole which takes care of 17 pets and other street dogs in its automobile workshop.Chapagain and Kumar say they are not activists, they believe they are doing the kind of ethical journalism they learnt about in college, keeping true to their own personal values.The program gets loads of feedback. Young people reach out to say the programs have made them understand their own country better. Teachers show Herne Katha videos to students in class.“Most people in the cities who interact within their circle of people on the echo chamber that is Twitter have not seen the country. On the other hand, a larger part of the country is unconcerned with the discourse on those platforms. They have their own struggles,” says Kumar, of the characters in their videos.Chapagain agrees that the mainstream media is also recognising the importance of grassroots storytelling, and that politics is not the only story.“Stories do not need to be issues at all, it could just be people going about their daily lives,” she says “And it is good to see evidence that the lives of ordinary Nepalis are worthy of being on the front pages.”

Shristi Karki

The extraordinary lives of ordinary Nepalis

At the stroke of the midnight hour, it finally came to something everyone in Nepal’s oldest and biggest party had been dreading — a split.
Not that this was anything new. The Nepali Congress (NC) had splintered twice before and the main protagonist both times was five-time prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba. After the GenZ uprising and being physically mauled and his house looted and set on fire on 9 September Deuba had said he was stepping aside, but it seems old ambitions die hard.
The showdown between the Gagan Thapa-Bishow Prakash Sharma camp and Deuba came to a head on Wednesday as the establishment leadership decided to suspend Thapa, Sharma, and Farmullah Mansoor for five years to punish them for daring to challenge the leadership and hold a special general convention.&nbsp;
Bhrikuti Mandap in the centre of Kathmandu is the venue for trade exhibitions, but this week it was where an exhibition of everything that is wrong with Nepali politics was on full display — lack of internal party democracy and an unaccountable gerontocracy clinging on to power.&nbsp;
Thapa and Sharma had gathered the support of 62% of the NC membership at their convention and chose Gagan Thapa as the new party leader and proposed him as a prime ministerial candidate after the 5 March election.
Deuba’s allies had refused to attend or endorse the special general convention, and were adamant about holding a general convention to choose a new party head after the election. Thapa, Sharma and their supporters argued that the party faced ignominious defeat in the polls if Deuba insisted on being prime minister again.
The events of September 2025 have cast a long shadow over Nepali politics, with many new parties and alliances pledging to represent the aspirations of the GenZ movement. However, that realisation does not seem to have dawned on the tried, tested and failed leadership of the NC, UML and the NCP where the party leaders have held on to power by sidelining all rivals. &nbsp;
Thapa and Sharma were NC general secretaries held multiple rounds of discussions to convince Deuba to accept their eight-point demand that for the party’s and the country’s sake his time was up, and he should cut and cut cleanly. Despite having already handed over the party leadership to Purna Bahadur Khadka in September, Deuba refused to step down.&nbsp;
‘What demands has the Nepali Congress been unable to reconcile that it is headed for a split? There is no ideological dispute, just a proposal to make it easier to go for the election,’ noted journalist and author Narayan Wagle. ‘If those who have been in politics for so many years cannot reach an agreement, what have they learned in life and what hope is there for the country?’
Gagan Thapa was elected unopposed as the new party president on Thursday midnight, with Sharma and Pushpa Bhusal appointed vice-presidents. Thapa has said backroom talks are still ongoing though mediators, but for all intents and purposes the split seems irreconcilable.&nbsp;
The million dollar question now is: who gets to be the real Nepali Congress? Who gets the NC’s tree election symbol at the polls?
Both the Thapa and Deuba factions have written to the Election Commission (EC) laying claim to the party and its symbol. Whatever the EC decides, with less than two months to go for the polls, the dispute over its legitimacy will almost certainly have to be decided in the courts.
Deuba and his counterpart K P Oli in the UML have been unwilling or unable to fathom the level of outrage that young Nepalis feel about their parties. They have shown an inability to heed the call for institutional overhaul within parties and in Nepal’s political culture post-September. Second generation leaders within those parties who have grown old waiting for reform, seem to have better internalised the need for internal restructuring.&nbsp;
Oli has managed to hold on to power after displaying increasing authoritarianism within his UML, while Deuba has shown an unwillingness to bow out of leadership with grace. Both have squandered away their legacy.
For Gagan Thapa, the events of Thursday was a culmination of his long-standing claim for leadership change within the NC coupled with a compulsion to address the demands of the youth movement to maximise gains for his party this election. Just like Deuba, Thapa’s house was also looted and torched during the September protests.
Thapa told Onlinekhabar on Thursday: “Our belief was that we cannot go into elections under the present circumstances under [Sher Bahadur Deuba’s] leadership and with him as the party’s prime ministerial candidate. We would lose.”
The special general convention has taken further steps for reform, endorsing amendments to the party statue, which has set term limits for key leadership positions, including a one-term limit for party president, two-term limit for prime minister, three for a ministerial position, and four terms for a directly elected member of Parliament. Meanwhile, party members are only allowed to become lawmakers through the Proportional Representation system for one term.&nbsp;
If Thapa’s leadership holds legitimacy, this new chapter for the NC might come as a welcome change to young Nepalis who have been calling for leadership overhaul and internal party reforms within the establishment parties. But it may also come at the cost of the NC’s core base. It remains to be seen which side tips the scale at the polls.&nbsp;
The NC’s infighting and institutional shake-up has also posed fresh concerns about how it will affect the election schedule just as it looked as though all the mainstream political parties were finally on board and preparing for the polls. With voting barely weeks away, Nepal’s political parties are still too busy cleaning up their own house to give too much time to work on their platforms, agendas and serious campaigning
Historically, political break-ups and make-ups in Nepal are not set in stone. Even the newest alliance between Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP and Kulman Ghising’s UNP did not even last 12 days. &nbsp;Balen Shah is set to resign from his mayor position in the next and has gotten into the thick of election preparation with the RSP. His next step will be to choose which constituency he is going to contest from.
Meanwhile, in the light of a new day, the two NC factions may still decide that breaking up is hard to do when they are so close to elections, and the political stakes are so high.&nbsp;

Grand split in Nepal’s grand old party

Only a handful of people who witnessed the 1934 megaquake as children are still alive. And the memories of 2015 are fading fast.&nbsp;
We were shaken, but have not stirred into action. We have not even started preparing to be prepared for the inevitable, for it is not a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’.&nbsp;
Thursday 15 January was National Earthquake Safety Day commemorating the 1934 disaster that killed 10,000 people in Kathmandu Valley at a time when its population was barely 100,000.
Nepal is in an active seismic zone, and a really big one is overdue in the seismic gap in western Nepal where there has not been a megaquake for 500 years. The 7.8M quake in 2015 did not completely release the tectonic stress below Central Nepal.
An 8M+ earthquake epicentred in western Nepal will be even more violent than the 2015 one in Kathmandu and will be powerful enough to cause destruction across northern India as well.&nbsp;
We Nepalis are resilient, but we are also complacent and fatalistic. How else does one explain the unsafe and unplanned building construction in Kathmandu, Pokhara and other towns despite frequent reminders of what quakes can do?&nbsp;
Most designs are ad hoc and follow no engineering logic. Reinforced Cement Concrete (RCC) is now widespread across the country since such structures mostly withstood the 2015 event. But structural engineers say most concrete buildings are substandard, and can be death traps. Also, the country lacks equipment and training for search and rescue in cement houses.&nbsp;
FIRE HAZARD
If an earthquake struck Kathmandu on a windy winter evening, there is the added risk of fires from gas cylinders in collapsed buildings spreading across the densely packed city core. Fire trucks will not be able to reach those areas because the streets will be blocked.
Seismic risk is now amplified by climate breakdown. Nepal now needs to factor in the co-hazard of massive avalanches and Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs) triggered by future earthquakes. There are 41 potentially dangerous glacial lakes in the region, and 27 of them are in Tibet feeding rivers that flow into Nepal. A megaquake there could cause multiple simultaneous GLOFs.&nbsp;
If the 2015 earthquake had not happened on a Saturday, tens of thousands of children could have been killed in the 7,000 schools that were flattened. More than 2,500 government buildings came down, and would have killed and trapped many if it had not been a weekend.
Schools and health facilities retrofitted before the disaster were unscathed, and served as shelters for survivors. Chhatrapati Free Clinic (CFC) was reinforced three years before the earthquake for Rs5.2 million, and with support from National Society of Earthquake Technology (NSET), 800 community members were trained in search and rescue.
Bhuwaneswori Secondary School in Bhaktapur and Bal Bikas Secondary School in Kathmandu both survived 2015 because they had been retrofitted. Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court and the Department of Roads buildings were also made seismic resistant after 2015 quake, but the arson attacks on 9 September gutted them.
While many private residential homes built after 2015 continue to flout building codes, municipalities are now stricter. New schools and colleges, hospitals and high rises now have to meet stringent requirements for seismic resistance.
Nepal is a hotspot for many types of disasters — earthquakes, floods, droughts, glacial outbursts, wildfires. These are not ‘natural’ disasters, they are human induced. Earthquakes do not kill people, poorly-built buildings do. Climate breakdown is anthropogenic.&nbsp;
Waiting for a disaster to strike means we have waited too long. Search and rescue readiness are well and good, but much more important is preparedness — seismic resistance structures especially of public buildings, strict zoning to establish open spaces, pre-positioning supplies and simulated drills.
We do not know how much time we have before the next one. But it is not too late to start preparing. &nbsp;
Sonia Awale

Shaken, but not stirred

The series <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/looking-good-by-doing-good">Nepal Made</a> profiles world-class Nepali products and the people behind them. Deepak Acharya was born and raised in Simara, before his uncle took him to Pokhara when he was only in sixth grade. After class, he helped sell jackets and outdoor gear at his uncle's Lakeside store. &nbsp; Twenty-two years later, &nbsp;Acharya is still selling jackets. Not international brands like he used to, but products of his own outdoor gear company, DOLPO.&nbsp; Acharya and his brother-in-law, Krishna Ammai, started making and selling jackets and gear for international companies out of Thamel. After losing his business partner in the 2015 earthquake, he was done selling imported items. He launched his own line of outerwear, named after Nepal’s rugged and remote district, known for its stunning arid landscape. The careful selection of the name DOLPO paid off. It took off, providing a high-quality, affordable Nepal-made alternative to foreign companies.&nbsp; “A lot of work went into choosing the name Dolpo,” says Acharya, who considered what came into people’s minds when they heard the name of a place with double-O sound. “I wanted a brand that local customers would instantly relate to toughness and mountains.” The elegant logo reflects this as well, made up of two overlapping rounded triangles denoting mountains with a third peak in the middle. Underneath is ‘DOLPO’ in upper case sans serif.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260116120148_968d9354094049265372d851d0e44e16ae4fc86b5631481e365e6e977f13d37d" data-rendition-name="original" width="854" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo NT"> <figcaption>Photo: DOLPO</figcaption> </figure>  RIGHT QUALITY, RIGHT PRICE “Our philosophy is Right quality, Right price,” says co-founder Deepak Acharya, adding with a smile that the pricing strategy of a particular competitor has made business easy: “The employees at North Face may sell North Face, but they wear Dolpo.” The rebranding was so successful that Acharya regrets not launching it sooner. The reason for the success is that the outdoor gear market in Nepal has taken off with more and more domestic tourists trekking in the high mountains to share their adventures on social media.&nbsp; Nepalis seem to be consciously choosing sustainable, Nepal made products of international quality. Acharya says: “Of course, there will always be a demographic that only wears North Face, or Sonam. But we have the right design, right price philosophy.”&nbsp; DOLPO uses fabric and material mainly from Japan, and adheres to strict quality control. The reversible down jackets, windcheaters, shorts, fleece-lined pants, trekking trousers, backpacks, and polo shirts can be bought through its website, or two exclusive flagship stores in Sorakhutte and Thamel Chok. “After the rebrand, we slowly made a digital platform, marketed online, and worked with a delivery company to get items directly to buyers,” says Acharya. “We have no brokers or middlemen to keep prices low for the consumer.” DOLPO is a family business with Acharya’s mother and sister also involved, and nephew Nishant Ammai driving digital sales. Acharya points out that there is a lot of business opportunity in Nepal, as there are too many low-quality products being sold at too high a price. &nbsp;“The market is begging for an auto-correction,” he says. For Nepal’s pessimistic youth who are fleeing the country, Acharya urges patience: “The younger generation wants shortcuts. The mindset is to set up a venture and in three years they will be set for life. But this is not how success works.” “Choose a field, put in ten years of effort, really learn about it, and then you will see the vast possibility present in Nepal,” he continues.&nbsp; Last month, the DOLPO logo was seen on the jerseys of the Biratnagar Kings in NPL 2. The company made hats, jackets, and jerseys for star-studded cricket players including Lokesh Bam, Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf Du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. The Kings finished second in the group, and although Acharya is a football fan, he is happy to contribute to the rise of cricket in Nepal. &nbsp;&nbsp;

Proud to wear DOLPO

Illegal wildlife trade is the fourth most lucrative trafficking crime after drugs, humans, and weapons. Most wildlife ends up in China and Southeast Asia to be used mainly in traditional medicine or as bushmeat. Nepal is both the source and transit for wildlife trafficking, and while the authorities have been successful in protecting flagship mammals like tigers, rhinos, and leopards, the country still serves as a major transit point for less popular wildlife. Despite strict laws against wildlife crimes members of indigenous communities are easily tempted by organised transboundary criminals. They are recruited to poach endangered animals and plants, and end up in jail, while ring leaders are rarely caught.&nbsp; Many are not hardened criminals, just regular folk like Bishnu Adhikari, 30, who served time in Kathmandu’s Central Jail. He had gone with a friend to sell pangolin scales without knowing it was illegal and that the punishment was so harsh. Bikash Chhetri, a Grade 11 student, was riding a motorcycle with college friends when they were intercepted by the Central Investigation Bureau (CIB). Chhetri says he had no idea his &nbsp;friend was carrying the contraband in his bag. Both Adhikari and Chettri served five years in jail. But most people from Nepal’s indigenous communities are often unaware of the protected status or importance of the wildlife they were recruited to smuggle, handle, or transport. “Most of indigenous people involved in wildlife trade in Nepal are not criminals, they are poor and live near protected areas are simply trying to support their families, and mostly it is opportunistic killing,” says wildlife researcher Kumar Paudel of Greenhood Nepal. “Often they are exploited by higher-ups in the ladder of organised crime.” Paudel filed a petition at the Supreme Court in 2018, and the Supreme Court five years later ordered the government to implement the law in a full, fair, and consistent manner. One of the indigenous communities is the semi-nomadic Chepang who have a long tradition of eating fruit bats. Dibesh Karmacharya of the Center of Molecular Dynamics Nepal in Kathmandu has been looking into new diseases for over a decade and a half, and this community in Makwanpur next to Chitwan National Park was selected. “Bats are known to carry viruses and bacteria, which are not harmful to them, but when humans get exposed the microbes can mutate and become pathogens with high transmissibility,” explains Karmacharya, who found that many Chepang had been imprisoned for poaching.&nbsp; “Indigenous communities are often disenfranchised and at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, and need some kind of income,” says Karmacharya. “They are hunter-gatherers and have knowledge of the land as well as wildlife, so they get recruited by wildlife traffickers often getting caught, and not those who hire them.” CLIMATE FACTOR Global warming has meant that vectors that carry pathogens, as well as animals, are also moving to higher altitudes. As temperature rises, glaciers melt, and previously barren slopes have vegetation. Many mammals, such as common leopards, which are found in the foothills are moving up the mountains to share the habitat of snow leopards. Tigers have also been known to move out of Tarai national parks to seek cooler climes in the Mahabharata Range. Besides the risk of being caught, indigenous communities also are exposed to disease when they handle wildlife and harvest organs. In the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic, there was speculation that the virus had jumped from pangolins to humans, which has since been disproven. Even so, pangolins are the world’s most trafficked mammal. The scales of the anteater are thought to have medical properties and are used in traditional Chinese medicine in China, as well as eaten as a delicacy in parts of Asia. Tulshi Laxmi Suwal of the Small Mammals Conservation and Research Foundation (SMCRF), who did her PhD on pangolins from Taiwan, says there is a link between climate, increased human-wildlife contact, and emerging diseases. “Climate change is directly affecting their food and habitat,” explains Suwal. “Pangolins need a lot of water and if they don’t get it ectoparasites under their scales might be easily released to their surroundings. But water is becoming scarcer with climate breakdown.”&nbsp; Researcher Kumar Paudel says law enforcement must be driven not so much by the total number of traffickers arrested, but by the goal of discouraging people from participating in the trade. This means fair and accountable implementation of the law so that indigenous people are not disproportionately impacted.&nbsp; Some ring leaders involved in tiger and rhino poaching have been arrested, but a handful of them staged jailbreaks during the September GenZ protests and are again at large — raising the risk that poaching may increase.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260114100128_e7a6891c2980aa132dd3e4644b752008bd367dd6e868790d4dbae5aa626a2764.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260114100128_e7a6891c2980aa132dd3e4644b752008bd367dd6e868790d4dbae5aa626a2764" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="rhino"> <figcaption>Two greater one-horned rhinoceroses at Chitwan National Park in Nepal. Photo: WIKIMEDIA COMMONS</figcaption> </figure>  “Investigation must move to the upper echelons of the trade,” says Paudel. “And indigenous people need alternative livelihoods and education so they are not easily recruited to hunt down wildlife.”&nbsp; The solution may lie in small, local incentives that can help communities realise the importance of conservation while also empowering them, socially and economically. One such example is the Pangolin Trail in Bagh Bhairav Community Forest in Kirtipur near Kathmandu. After their study found the community forest to be a habitat for pangolins and endangered bird species, SMCRF built a trekking trail which has since been handed over to the local community which can get income from visitor fees. The local government has expanded the trail, added an information center, and runs clean-up campaigns. This gave the local Tamang community of 100 households a sense of ownership and agency. Local villagers have been trained to become citizen scientists, and help in recording pangolin behaviour. One of them is Sun Laxmi Pakhrin, who is not formally educated, but works in pangolin protection using GPS tracking systems and camera traps.&nbsp; A community previously notorious for theft, drug trafficking and wildlife poaching is now reformed. Families are also involved in small businesses such as poultry. Suwal says: “Women in indigenous communities are now in decision-making roles and the guardians of nature and wildlife.” With contribution from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

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Proud to wear DOLPO

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