<h2>“My brother died right in front of my eyes”</h2> - Dhanu Bishwakarma  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110456_de4a04720790ed70067d7ad74a16b72cee179e99e85fb78a093edadd592be5a0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250401110456_de4a04720790ed70067d7ad74a16b72cee179e99e85fb78a093edadd592be5a0" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak"> <figcaption>Avenues TV journalist Suresh Rajak, who died last Friday as he was filming the pro-monarchy protests from a building that was eventually set on fire by royalist rioters.</figcaption> </figure>  Sujani Magiya was busy preparing for a family gathering that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">fateful Friday</a> at her home in Chandragiri as her husband, television journalist Suresh Rajak, got ready to head to work.&nbsp; Sujani reminded him to be home early for the get-together. “I’ll come back early,” Suresh promised and left to cover the royalist rally at Tinkune.&nbsp; As confrontation between riot police and demonstrators unfolded, he had climbed up an office building for a vantage point to film the events below. Just then, some in the crowd shouted that there were police on the roof of the building and started stoning the green glass façade.&nbsp; Suresh was last photographed filming through the broken windows, and kept on filming even as the rioters set fire to the building after blocking the front door. Suresh was either asphyxiated or was burned to death. His body was discovered hours later. Back in Kirtipur, Sujani was too busy preparing dinner for the family gathering to check her phone, and was unaware of what was happening across town.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120416_60a4b7e5ceb0cd6879f6682013f365f26562154025821ec29a8e9322f448e29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250401120416_60a4b7e5ceb0cd6879f6682013f365f26562154025821ec29a8e9322f448e29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak Family"> <figcaption>Ramesh Rajak (left) and Dinesh Rajak, older brothers of Suresh Rajak. Dinesh and Suresh, both video journalists, were covering the protests for their respective media outlets. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  When she finally saw the news, she dialled her husband’s number but his phone was switched off. The rest of the family had already heard that Suresh was dead, but did not have the heart to break the news to his wife. “My brother-in-law told me around 6PM that my husband had met with an accident and had been taken to hospital,” Sujani recalled. “They stopped me from going to the hospital.”&nbsp; She feared the worst, and prayed fervently. It was on Saturday evening that she finally got confirmation that her husband had lost his life. Her tears have not stopped since. “I have lost everything,” she told us, weeping. Suresh was the youngest of four siblings, and the family could not afford to send him to college. The eldest brother Ramesh took care of the brothers, but his police job did not pay enough.&nbsp; Suresh migrated to Malaysia to work for two years to supplement the family income. He came back after his mother died, and his other brother Dinesh, who is a video journalist with Lokpath, suggested that he also get a job as a reporter. He had been a video journalist at Avenues TV for the past seven years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110452_22ab2d4c9652aeb5007db4b69d07b15e24d5b70a6b0b7e60c07141c1b3f537c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250401110452_22ab2d4c9652aeb5007db4b69d07b15e24d5b70a6b0b7e60c07141c1b3f537c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="579" loading="lazy" alt="Building set on fire by protestors in Tinkune"> <figcaption>Suresh Rajak was seen filming the protests from this building shortly before it was set on fire. His body was found hours later. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Dinesh and Suresh left home together on 28 March to cover the pro- and anti- monarchy rallies and had agreed to be home early for dinner. Dinesh reached Tinkune as the royalists were gathering, but was too busy to look for his brother.&nbsp; At around 4PM, when he was filming the building that had been set alight, a colleague informed that there was a reporter trapped inside. Dinesh immediately dialled his brother’s phone, but could not reach him.&nbsp; Dinesh stood frozen as the rioters swirled and shouted around him, unable to get ahold of his brother. No one, including Suresh’s film crew knew where he was. He called hospitals with no avail, and that was when Dinesh felt the journalist in the burning building could be his brother. “I had been filming the very house that my brother was burned to death in,” he said, weeping. “I will never be able to forget that.” Dinesh has not been able to face his sister-in-law because he has no answers to the questions she might have. Suresh and Sujani had got married seven years ago after a long-term relationship. She had been with him through much of his journalism career, and was increasingly frustrated that he was often required to work overtime. Suresh dismissed her worries.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401110452_a74962b765a26e9046ddd4a9fa920a5d02d9cf43cf4fd6df361ba4723ec4c97d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250401110452_a74962b765a26e9046ddd4a9fa920a5d02d9cf43cf4fd6df361ba4723ec4c97d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="683" loading="lazy" alt="Suresh Rajak receiving award"> <figcaption>Suresh Rajak was the 2022 recipient of the Hem-Sunil Risky Journalism award.</figcaption> </figure>  He had been injured once before while filming anti-MCC protests in Baneswor three years ago. “I had asked him to quit his job back then, but he would not listen,” Sujani recalls. Dinesh says that his brother would often take risks to take exclusive photos and videos. He was well regarded by colleagues for his passion for reporting, and was the 2022 recipient of the Hem-Sunil Risky Journalism award. His body is still at Teaching Hospital, and his family met the prime minister on Monday and demanded that he be eligible for a martyr’s compensation, and to punish those who set fire to the building. The Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ) has organised memorials nationwide for Suresh and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-deja-vu-on-black-friday">condemned the various attacks on Nepal’s media and press institutions</a> during Friday’s protests. Dinesh says that while the rioters were guilty of setting fire to the building, he faulted the police for not helping rescue his brother even when repeatedly told that there was a reporter inside. He says, “Had they gone to that building, my brother’s life could have been saved.” <h2>The last time Sabin left home</h2> - Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120416_12ba007525d427fb9136ad20da45c28e71e397089efc23c1a70ed66d022240d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250401120416_12ba007525d427fb9136ad20da45c28e71e397089efc23c1a70ed66d022240d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1343" loading="lazy" alt="Sabin Maharjan"> <figcaption>Sabin Maharjan had left his house on Friday telling his wife he was going to pick up his vehicle from the garage. His family does not know how he ended up at the pro-monarchy demonstration in Tinkune, where he was shot to death after police fired live rounds to disperse protestors.</figcaption> </figure>  There may have been a few thousand pro-monarchist demonstrators at Tinkune on 28 March. But many of those caught up in the melee were either bystanders, or walking past to get to their destinations because there was no public transport. There are at least a dozen people in hospitals across Kathmandu being treated for bullet wounds who were not protesters, but were hit when the police resorted to live rounds to disperse the angry crowds on an arson rampage. One of them was Sabin Maharjan, 29, from Kirtipur who drove a public van on the Hetauda-Kathmandu route. He left home that morning telling his wife Bhavisha Thakuri Malla that he was going to pick up his vehicle from a garage.&nbsp; Sabin was passionate about driving, and had learnt to drive at the age of 14. He met Bhavisha in Hetauda and got married in 2016. He would often stay nights in Hetauda unless his vehicle needed repairs, in which case he drove back to Kathmandu. Last Wednesday, Sabin had come back to Kathmandu in the evening after spending a week in Hetauda, leaving his Tata Sumo at a garage in Balkhu for repairs before heading home to Kirtipur.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250401120420_52efc283b4578b8e951fb695d81d8967e5cdf52e39326db82854c76d1e97cdc1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250401120420_52efc283b4578b8e951fb695d81d8967e5cdf52e39326db82854c76d1e97cdc1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Bhavisha, Sabin's wife"> <figcaption>Sabin's wife Bhavisha Thakuri Malla. The couple have a seven-year-old daughter. Photos: ANITA BHETWAL</figcaption> </figure>  Relatives and co-workers say they have no idea why a man who had said he was going to pick up his van from the garage had ended up across town at a violent protest. “Maybe someone took him to Tinkune from the garage, or he could have gone there for some other work,” Bhavisha says, her voice breaking.&nbsp; Bhavisha was doing her chores with her daughter when she got a call from TU Teaching Hospital. She rushed to Maharajganj, but was informed that Sabin had died.&nbsp; Bhavisha stares listlessly at her daughter Subisa beside her, as mourners file into the room to offer words of consolation. “The bullet wound was on the left side of his chest, he must have died instantly, without knowing what hit him,” she says. “Those here ask what they can do for me. Can they bring my husband back?” Relatives say Sabin had no interest in politics, and had never joined any political rally. The only time he left home was to drive his van.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040112040_be268599be04b0738465410af93f93938c6ac5206355edd7c3938b7b7c610abf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025040112040_be268599be04b0738465410af93f93938c6ac5206355edd7c3938b7b7c610abf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="894" loading="lazy" alt="Sabin Maharjan"> <figcaption>Mourners have gathered for the last few days to pay respects at Sabin Maharjan's house in Kirtipur.</figcaption> </figure>  Bikash Maharjan raised his nephew, Sabin, since he was five after his mother’s death and father’s remarriage. He says: “Sabin was not the least bit interested in politics. We just cannot understand what took him to Tinkune.” Family and neighbours were not the only ones at Sabin’s house in Kirtipur to offer condolences. There were some participants from the pro-monarchy protests, as well as government representatives.&nbsp; But Bhavisha has no interest in meeting them. “I do not know what this protest was for. All I know is that if it had been peaceful, this would never have happened.” Bikash Maharjan, Sabin's uncle, says his death should not be exploited by any political side for propaganda purposes. “We are ordinary people, we do not want anyone to use the name of the son we have lost for any political purpose.”&nbsp; “Since Sabin cannot take care of his family now, it is up to the government to support them,” he adds.

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A Tale of Two Deaths

<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/waiting-for-bipin-joshi" target="_blank">Nepali student Bipin Joshi</a>, who was taken captive by Hamas on 7 October 2023, was not on the list of those freed following the end of the bombardment and fighting in Gaza.&nbsp; On Monday morning, the Israeli military notified Bipin's family and Nepal’s ambassador to Israel Dhan Prasad Pandit, that there is no evidence of him still being alive. However, Nepal's Foreign Ministry is yet to be notified by Israel's government of Bipin's status. The news came three days after a US-brokered ceasefire between Israel and Hamas came into effect, and hostage and prisoner exchanges by the two sides started Monday morning.&nbsp; Almost 2,000 Palestinians held in Israeli prisions are expected to be released by Israel in exchange for the hostages during the next phase of the peace deal between the two parties, and the bodies of deceased hostages remaining in Gaza are also expected to be returned.&nbsp; Bipin Joshi was among a group of Nepalis who had arrived in Israel in 2023 just weeks before 7 October 2023 as part of a ‘learn and earn’ program to work and earn in kibbutz farms there.&nbsp; Along with other students Joshi had been working on a farm in Kibbutz Alumim in southern Israel near Gaza. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/war-in-israel-earthquake-and-grief-in-nepal">Ten Nepali students were killed </a>while taking cover in shelters near their farms in two separate attacks by Hamas fighters.&nbsp; Joshi’s colleagues, fellow Nepalis who survived the attack, recall gunmen lobbing two grenades into the bunker that they had taken cover in. Bipin hurled one of the grenades out, they say, but the other one exploded, killing and injuring Nepalis inside. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shortly after, Bipin was captured by Hamas along with a Thai national and led away into Gaza. CCTV footage showed Bipin alive and at a hospital in Gaza on the day of the attack itself after he was taken hostage.&nbsp; Thirty-one Thai citizens, who like Nepalis worked in farms in Israel, were taken hostage during the Hamas attack, the highest number of foreign captives in October 2023.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/deft-diplomacy-freed-thai-hostages">Deft Thai diplomatic engagement</a> with officials from Iran, Egypt, and Qatar brought about the release of 23 of its nationals in 2023. Five more Thai nationals were released earlier this year.&nbsp; In August, Joshi’s family visited Israel at the invitation of the government and urged the international community to push for his return. Bipin’s mother Padma and sister Pushpa have been at the United Nations to lobby for his release.&nbsp; His family last week also released a video clip of Bipin briefly speaking on camera, reportedly obtained by Israel and said to be filmed in November 2023, around a month after he was taken captive. Joshi looks healthy in that video.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251013091028_d551c7f88204c52217152fb5db655bb5a5f8bf2cff1e6a055326ebf64453ff9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2848" height="1528" loading="lazy" alt="Bipin Joshi NT"> </figure>  More than 67,000 Palestinians have been killed during the last two years of the genocide in Gaza. About 1,200 people were killed during the Hamas attack on 7 October 2023, while more than 251, including Bipin Joshi, were taken as captives.&nbsp; This is the third ceasefire implemented in Gaza since 7 October 2023 after previous ones in November 2023 and January 2025. This 20-point deal facilitated by intermediaries US, Qatar, Turkey, and Egypt included terms for Hamas to give up its arms, and for a devastated Gaza to be governed by a Palestinian body of independent technocrats, while Israeli troops will withdraw in stages from Gaza.&nbsp; Hamas has agreed to relinquish control of Gaza, but has rejected the demand for disarmament, saying the group will demobilise but is prepared to resume fighting if Israel breaches the ceasefire.&nbsp; Following the ceasefire, Palestinians in Gaza have begun long journeys back to homes reduced to rubble by Israel’s two-year assault on the strip. The flow of humanitarian aid in the city has also increased following the peace deal.&nbsp; Israel's closure of humanitarian corridors in the past months had blocked the entry of food and medicine into Gaza, causing widespread famine. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) has said that the restriction of aid into the beseiged city has left as many as <a href="https://www.unrwa.org/newsroom/news-releases/gaza-unrwa%E2%80%99s-lancet-study-reveals-alarming-surge-child-malnutrition">54,600 children acutely malnourished</a>.&nbsp; Meanwhile, US president Donald Trump landed in Israel on Monday as hostages were being released, and world leaders are expected to head to Egypt for an international summit to discuss the next steps in Gaza, Israel, and West Asia.&nbsp;

Nepali hostage in Gaza not alive: Israel

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

Nepali Times: You just climbed Mt Everest without oxygen and then skied down the mountain. How does one even train for something like that?&nbsp; Andrzej Bargiel: What made skiing down Everest possible was all the years of experience I’ve gained in high-altitude mountains. Spending a lot of time in the high mountains helps me read the snow, the conditions, and potential hazards. I need to ski often, especially in steep and exposed terrain, so that it becomes a place where I feel completely at home.&nbsp; I also climb regularly, I am an IFMGA mountain guide. I also run, ride a bike, and work out in the gym. Like in any endurance sport, I have to prepare my body for the demands of an expedition.&nbsp; What motivated you to do Everest? This was actually my third attempt on Everest. After many years of ski mountaineering and racing, I felt it would be great to use that experience to take on a meaningful project in the Himalaya. It’s about exploring what’s really possible, testing my limits, and seeing how far I can go. I was inspired by people like Davo Karničar, Fredrik Ericsson, and Hans Kammerlander, who showed that skiing in the high mountains can truly be done.&nbsp; What do you have to be most careful about when skiing at such high altitude? You really have to manage your energy well, because you need to be ready to spend many hours at very high altitude — even above 8,000 meters. Risk management is essential. You have to read the signals nature gives you and make the right decisions, choosing safe moments to move. The dangers are always there: avalanches, crevasses, extreme fatigue, and exposed terrain, so you have to stay fully aware and focused. Safety comes first, always. You also need to stay open to changing your plans, because in the mountains, things don’t always go the way you expect.&nbsp; Why did you choose autumn and not spring?&nbsp; Autumn is really the only season when you can think about making a full ski descent from the summit all the way to base camp. In the spring there’s much more ice left after winter, and the snow cover is broken. A full descent simply isn’t possible then, because too much rock and ice are exposed. Of course, in spring it’s easier to climb the mountain. The conditions are more stable, the snow is firmer, there’s less avalanche risk, and you don’t have to wade through deep snow. The autumn ascent is very complex and demanding, which is why so few expeditions attempt it. But in autumn, skiing becomes possible. Several meters of fresh snow fall on Everest’s slopes, covering the rocks and ice, and that transforms the mountain into something wild, beautiful, and most importantly skiable. What was your favourite part this time? The moment I remember most fondly was reaching the summit — and that first stretch just below the top, when I clicked into my skis and started moving down through surprisingly nice snow. It felt smooth and natural, a kind of free, easy glide down toward the Hillary Step. I could feel the movement, the flow, and at the same time this awareness that I was skiing from the highest point on Earth. It was just a really good feeling. The Icefall was another special moment. I felt from a skier’s point of view that it really worked. I could make my turns, and the descent itself was fun, technical, but a beautiful one too — full of variety, weaving through ice towers and seracs that looked incredible in the sunlight. It was challenging, but also just pure joy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251015141012_e9e671e07b089a7d59e4b9ba34df993180ae2dfcae3786113a4d48c515427b3d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1365" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Andrzej Bargiel NT"> </figure>  And what was most challenging? The hardest moment came on 14 September, during our first summit push attempt. We were breaking trail in deep snow and reached the South Col in the evening. I already knew we wouldn’t be going higher that night, so I decided to stay there, to use the climb to acclimatise.&nbsp; But after that attempt failed, the team completely lost faith that the project could still succeed. Almost everyone started packing up, convinced it was over, nobody thought that the snow would stabilise enough.&nbsp; I skied down from the Col early the next morning in really good conditions, while the rest of the team descended on foot. Rebuilding belief within the team that it could still be done was the toughest part, mentally. It took me several days to bring that energy and motivation back, to make everyone believe again that we could try once more. What was your support crew like?&nbsp; I want to thank the whole team — all team members from Poland, all those who contributed to the project, all the sponsors, and the Seven Summit Treks crew, especially Dawa Sherpa, who had the courage to go to the top with me.&nbsp; In the end, his courage made it possible. Doing it alone would have been almost impossible. With him there, I felt safe, and that made all the difference. What potential for skiing do you see in the Himalaya?&nbsp; Huge. There’s massive potential here both for ski touring and for a more recreational form of skiing. In the Himalaya, there are so many mountains you can ski from, and they don’t have to be eight-thousanders.&nbsp; There is an incredible amount of snow even in the lower valleys during the winter, which makes it a really interesting place for skiing. You can find great powder and enjoy long, wide runs.&nbsp; The key, I think, is to keep developing local guiding structures. There should be more certified guides in Nepal, Sherpas gaining guiding qualifications, and a proper professional rescue service. That would definitely increase the sense of safety for both skiers and tourists coming to the mountains. I’d love to come back to the Himalayas one winter just to ski in those lower parts — in deep snow, on much longer and wider skis – that would be pure pleasure. At those lower altitudes, the fun can be so much greater, with a more relaxed, freeride kind of feeling.

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