There is something uniquely haunting about an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/crash-course">air crash</a>. It is the kind of catastrophe that is both sudden and protracted, a fleeting moment of terror seemingly suspended in time, leaving behind the kind of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/April-earthquake-was-followed-by-more-devastating-economic-upheaval,2772#google_vignette">wreckage </a>that is measured not just in debris but in the lives it claims and the lives it shatters of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-tale-of-four-nepalis-in-mumbai">loved ones who are left behind</a>.&nbsp; The midair<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/lukla-plane-chopper-collision-kills-3-e9vw17vw"> collision</a> near the Washington Reagan National Airport last month that claimed 67 lives was the deadliest <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/18-dead-in-nepal-aircraft-crash">aviation disaster</a> on US soil in nearly 25 years. In those final moments, flight recorder data indicates how the pilots of the doomed American Airlines flight fought against fate itself, pulling the nose of the plane up, desperately trying to salvage even a sliver of hope. This is similar to what happened to Pakistan International Airlines flight 8303 in Karachi five years ago. But tragically, it was too late.&nbsp; In the seconds before impact, perhaps they too, like many others before them, felt their entire lives unfold before their eyes, as I too had experienced. For those who remain, there is something deeply unsettling about a tragedy like this. We cycle through horror, grief, and a helpless kind of sorrow, knowing that nothing we do can rewind time or rewrite history. But there is something else, too — a quiet, unspoken responsibility. When people vanish in<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tragedy-at-tia"> preventable tragedies</a>, the burden of their loss does not just belong to their families, it belongs to all of us. It forces us to confront questions of justice, accountability, and, perhaps most agonisingly, the randomness of fate itself. I know this weight personally. On May 22, 2020, I boarded a PIA flight that never truly landed. It was meant to be a routine trip home for Eid, a simple journey from Lahore to Karachi. Instead, the plane crash-landed in a densely populated neighborhood, killing 97 of the 99 people on board. I was one of the two who survived. Survival from such an accident is not just a miracle — it is a paradox. Why me? Why not them? These questions live inside me, dormant yet ever-present, stirring awake every time another tragedy unfolds.&nbsp; When I read about the Washington crash, I could imagine the chaos in the cockpit, the passengers gripping their seats, the terrible weight of inevitability in those final moments. And I visualise the collateral survivors — the families left behind, the air traffic controllers who might have caught a different detail, the people who changed their flight at the last moment. Because after a tragedy, survival itself feels like both a gift and a debt. And that debt demands to be repaid. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/airfields-without-airplanes"> Airfields without airplanes</a> We cannot change what happened over the skies of Washington. But we can ask ourselves: What do we owe to those who perished? We owe them the truth. The investigations must be relentless. Early reports indicate scrutiny on air traffic controller staffing, the complexity of Washington’s airspace, and possible miscalculations in altitude. The families of the victims deserve more than vague reassurances. They deserve transparency, accountability, and a system that does not repeat its failures. We owe them change. The Federal Aviation Administration’s new restrictions on helicopter traffic near Reagan National Airport are a start, but they are not enough. We owe them a memory. Tragedies fade from headlines, but grief lingers in the bones of those left behind. Memorials, safety reforms, foundations — these are the ways in which those who pass on are not forgotten. We owe them our lives, fully lived. If you have ever escaped death, you know that every breath afterward feels borrowed. The burden of survival is the question of purpose — what will you do with this bonus life? It is easy to sink into guilt, to let grief dictate your days.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/fatalism-and-fatalities">Fatalism and fatalities</a>, Sonia Awale But the real tribute to the dead is to live with the kind of intention they no longer have the chance to. It is to love harder, to be kinder, to leave no important words unsaid. It is to make sure that when your own final moment comes — whether in a slow fade or in the sudden, brutal rupture of an accident — you are at peace with the life you have led. In the end, every tragedy leaves behind lessons. The only question is whether we choose to learn from them. I have shared my peculiar lessons as a survivor of an air crash which I owe on my part to humanity in my latest book ‘Seat 1C’.&nbsp; May we, the living, carry the memory of those who have died forward with the weight and honour it deserves. Zafar Masud is an international banker and founder of the Zafar Masud Foundation which focuses on passenger and airplane safety regulations. ‘Seat 1C: A Survivor’s Tale of Hope, Resilience and Renewal’ (Lightstone Publishers, Pakistan, and Rupa, India) was launched at the Lahore Literary Festival on 22 February. This is a Sapan News syndicated feature.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250223080228_8bf73dc035afd137c708e63cda5f7ce0c014ccfb2c84945e1b3dd13a805c5e40.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250223080228_8bf73dc035afd137c708e63cda5f7ce0c014ccfb2c84945e1b3dd13a805c5e40" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Seat 1C Book cover "> </figure>  &nbsp;

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Humanity after the crash

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCjJUL0hZmgIt was a warm Saturday morning three years ago when Rasmila Awal walked over to a nearby shop to buy provisions, leaving her four-month-old baby Sonish and 10-year-old daughter Sonia at home. The baby was asleep and Sonia was watching tv when the whole building started rattling and shaking.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca619c7e80680e02f309jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="130" height="101"/>Sonia remembers plaster falling from the ceiling and a big gash appearing on the walls. Instinctively, she ran out of the house, remembered she had left her little brother inside, rushed back in, picked up the baby and was trying to get out <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/05/13/tears-of-joy/">when it collapsed</a> on top of them.She tried to hold on to her little brother, but as the walls came down on top of her, she lost her grip on the baby and was knocked unconscious.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca619c7e80680e02f30ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>At the shop, Rasmila felt the ground swaying and knew immediately that it was an earthquake. She ran back, and crumpled on the ground when she saw her house in ruins with the two children inside.“My feet were shaking, I couldn’t get up, I wanted to scream for help, but no sound came out of my mouth,” Rasmila recalls. The neighbours immediately started digging, and soon saw a girl’s leg sticking out of the debris. Sonia was alive, but unconscious.The rescuers dug some more but couldn’t find Sonish. The ground shook restlessly with aftershocks as night fell. Rasmila kept a silent vigil even after rescuers gave up the search, and neighbours prepared to sleep out in the open.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca649c7e80680e02f30bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Just then, she heard a feeble wail from beneath the ruins. Army rescuers were called in, and after digging right through the night, they finally brought out Sonish, covered in dust but with barely a scratch on him. He had been <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/06/23/the-baby-who-lived/">under the rubble</a> for 22 hours.“I cannot describe that feeling of relief, I hugged him tight, all my prayers were answered,” remembers Rasmila. The baby started sucking his thumb, and looked around seemingly to ask what the fuss was all about.Three years later, it is Sonish who runs to the door when he hears the bell ring. He is a playful and inquisitive boy, and is excited to have visitors.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca689c7e80680e02f30cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Rasmila’s husband is a truck driver and is out most of the day. The family is still homeless, and live with the two children in one rented room. There is talk of land being appropriated to widen the road, so the house has not been rebuilt.The Nepal Army, which helped in the rescue has given Sonish and Sonia <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/04/24/scholarship-for-miracle-baby/">scholarships</a> till they go to college. After he finishes primary school, Sonish will attend the Army’s high school in Sallaghari.Rasmila says the iconic photograph of Sonish by Amul Thapa brought the family fame, but not much else. However, she feels blessed: “At least I have both my children, and we are together.”<h3>Amul baby</h3><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca6b9c7e80680e02f30djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="806"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Amul Thapa was in his newsroom in Baneswor when the building started shaking violently. His reporter’s instincts kicked in, and he grabbed his camera bag and rushed to Dharara where 60 people had been killed when the tower collapsed.“Instead of taking pictures, we were helping rescue people from under the rubble,” Thapa recalls.Only then did he decide to call home to find out how his family was doing in Bhaktapur. They told him about the great damage in the town, and how there was one house that had collapsed trapping children underneath the rubble.“The soldiers were digging frantically and the family was standing around weeping and praying. It didn’t feel right to be taking pictures, so I went home,” Thapa says.Next morning, he went back to the collapsed house. The soldiers were still digging because they could hear the boy’s cries from beneath the debris. At about 10am, they found four-month-old Sonish Awal trapped underneath a wooden beam, which had actually protected him as the walls and floors collapsed all around.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca6f9c7e80680e02f30ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1100" height="660"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Thapa clicked away: Rasmila’s tears of sorrow had turned into tears of joy, the baby was covered in dirt as he was extricated carefully from the rubble, and finally the now-famous photograph of rescue soldier Dipak Rai holding Sonish up amidst applause and relief which made it to the folding front page of Nepali Times and Himal Khabarpatrika that week (above).Says Thapa: “I was able to tell the story of the child and the family to the whole world. My photographs made Sonish famous worldwide, and the story did the same for me. It was not just a picture, it symbolised hope and survival.”Thapa often visits the family and helps in any way he can. He now works for Naya Patrika.Read Also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/06/23/the-baby-who-lived/">The baby who lived</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/survivors-of-2015-Nepal">Not so lucky</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/headline/Miracle-baby,2987">Miracle baby</a>, Smriti Basnet

Monika Deupala

Bhaktapur's Miracle boy at 3

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca539c7e80680e02f304jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="788"/><figcaption>BACK ON TRACK: Hotel Budget collapsed on top of Ga Hiti in Thamel during the earthquake (below) killing at least 10 people. Today, the neighbourhood has been rebuilt through a community effort led by Zafar Hussain and Hari Bhakta Shrestha . NISCHAL PRADHAN</figcaption></figure>Hari Bhakta Shrestha was in his office at <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/04/26/second-night-in-the-open/">Hotel Budget</a> in Thamel when the earthquake struck just before noon on that fateful Saturday three years ago.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca569c7e80680e02f305jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="130" height="101">As the shaking got worse, he ran out along with other residents and once outside, watched as his own hotel tilted and collapse into the historic Ga Hiti stone water spout. There was a shattering roar, and a cloud of dust rose up in the air.Six guests from Sikkim were inside having breakfast in their rooms, and did not make it out. Several women waiting to collect water at the bottom of the sunken spout also perished.Shrestha’s concentration then shifted from the rubble of the hotel to his family in Lazimpat. Fortunately they were all right.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=4276&amp;preview=true">The reincarnation of a holy valley</a>, Clara Bullock<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=4267&amp;preview=true">Bhaktapur's Miracle boy at 3</a>, Monika Deupala“It took a little time for people to understand what was happening, everyone was in shock,” Shrestha recalls. But three years later, he has rebuilt the renamed Hotel Ama’s Home at the exact spot where his old one used to be. The community has come together to restore the Ga Hiti neighborhood, and it is difficult to imagine today that Kathmandu’s tourist centre once suffered an earthquake.“We cannot stop earthquakes, but we can protect ourselves from them by ensuring stronger construction for the next time,” says Shrestha, who says he did not want to sell his land and move out. His patience paid off, and business is back to normal as Thamel’s tourism revived.After the earthquake, local politician Yogesh Bhattarai coordinated with the municipality and ward office to clear up the debris from the water spout, and lending a helping hand was the Ga Hiti Youth Club.The Club’s Zafar Hussain said since many monuments like <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/review/should-dharara-be-rebuilt,2355">Dharara</a> and the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Monumental-loss,2215">Darbar Squares</a> were destroyed there was no point waiting for help from the government, so the community got together to restore their own neighbourhood which took six months.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca579c7e80680e02f306jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="275"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca599c7e80680e02f307jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">“Waiting was pointless, and if we had waited, this place would never have been restored,” Hussain adds.Called ‘Operation Every Day Every Week’ the rebuilding effort gathered momentum under Yogesh Bhattarai’s coordination. Excavators got to work to clear the rubble, volunteers helped lift out debris from Ga Hiti. Every day members of community would work together, and at the end of the week, volunteers would join in -- diplomats, politicians and people from other neighbourhoods.Read Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-to-build-back-better/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> How to build back better?</a>, Suyog PrajapatiFinally, Kathmandu Metropolitan City took notice and formed a new reconstruction committee where the community put up 20% of the cost. With private donations, the hiti, road and broken water mains were all repaired long before similar reconstruction were completed in Kathmandu and elsewhere in the earthquake zones.Shrestha gave the reconstruction of the neighbourhood more priority than rebuilding his own hotel.We had no expectations of help from the government, and perhaps that is why it got finished so quickly,” he adds.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110710114/6368ca5e9c7e80680e02f308jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844">Today, Ga Hiti is once more a place for the community to get together to collect water, wash clothes and even bathe.Hussain owns a jewellery shop in Thamel, and says Ga Hiti is now a model for how much can be achieved collectively: “Even the elders were looking up to the younger generation this time, it showed that a co-operative society can function well in times of crisis.”Read Also<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/04/26/second-night-in-the-open/">Second night in the open</a>

Thamel gets back to business

<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?

Chuden Kabimo is in Kathmandu to receive this year’s Madan Puraskar prize for his novel, <a href="https://thuprai.com/book/urmal/?srsltid=AfmBOopuAcN_Emi7s7ptdJNBJhP17OQEkWBwF2OjbkZik99xCWS4sqPn" target="_blank">उरमाल</a> that is set among the tea plantations and their workers in northeast India’s Dooar plains.&nbsp; The award ceremony was postponed due to Nepal's violent GenZ protests, and his trip had to overcome highways and bridges destroyed by this week’s heavy rains in the Darjeeling hills and across the border in Nepal.&nbsp; Kabimo’s previous work, <a href="https://thuprai.com/book/faatsung/?srsltid=AfmBOopwCankD0dycz4oef2BifQlIq1vWwHSawc33IPiBWExo_n8YAb3" target="_blank">फातसुङ</a> was the story of the Gorkhaland Movement in Darjeeling 30 years ago told through fictionlised characters and their friendships, their love for the land, and revolution. Song of the Soil is its English translation by Ajit Baral published in 2021, and there are also Hindi and Bengali translations.&nbsp; The Gorkhaland Movement sought to create a separate state for Nepali-speaking Indians of West Bengal. There is plenty of violence, arson, and young death in the book, and a poignant contemplation on the 8-9 September Gen Z protests in Nepal.&nbsp; The plot is structured as a story, inside of a story, inside of a story, and starts off as the narrator gets the bad news that his childhood friend Ripden was killed in a landslide. He heads back to the site, Malbung, where he was born.&nbsp; He reminisces about his days in school with the rebellious Ripden, who encouraged the narrator to skip school and led him on adventures instead. He remembers villagers who sold their farms for alcohol, and dedicated teachers who helped them dream of better lives.&nbsp; Ripden lives with his uncle. His mother died when he was four, and his father disappeared in the Movement. One day he hears that his father is in fact dead as well, and decides to run away to a village called Lolay. There the pair meet Nasim, who is involved in the Gorkhaland Movement as a child soldier.&nbsp; Chuden Kabimo is of the Lepcha community, a people fiercely proud of their identity, homeland, history, and myths. He weaves together the stories of the characters, detailing their motivation to rebel. ‘I may give up my life, I may give up my soul. But Gorkhaland, I will have anyhow,’ says one leader of the Movement.&nbsp; It is the story of all revolutions where young idealistic people join with the best of intentions, but things betray their initial hopes. The spirit of the revolution can get everyone to protest, even those who do not want to be so involved, but they get killed anyway. Much like what happened outside Parliament last month in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Others think of personal success through the movement, and dream of a day where even the pigs can eat rice and every house has a swimming pool. Others keep themselves going through with alcohol and remembering past, present, or potential lovers.&nbsp; Ajit Baral’s translation has short, crisp sentences that make the 200 pages move along at a fast clip. The sparse language allows the writer to recede to the background as the story unfolds by itself. &nbsp; Kabimo condenses love stories into a chapter or sometimes just a few paragraphs. This works because the story of the revolution must be at the centre, and all else is tangential. Characters are sometimes introduced only to be killed off quickly.&nbsp; Like in all revolutions, there are factions and they are fighting among themselves, against Communists, or against the police. Readers not familiar with Gorkhaland may find it difficult to keep track, but this also parallels the real confusion of a society in turmoil.&nbsp; Kabimo also tends to start his chapters with statements like ‘history is written by those who stumble in life’ which sounds better in Nepali, and something is lost in translation. &nbsp; Read with the recent Nepal protests in mind, there is almost a sense of relief that the fires that spread here burnt themselves out so quickly. But in Song of the Soil, the revolution is never-ending with villages and families living in terror and deprivation.&nbsp; It seems that the longer insurrections last, the more people die, and groups become divided making it easier to subvert the original goal of a revolution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251012051032_089e7a01ed5afdad35c7a298024e65893b8cf252eb2fce3b919e72c60a3c7a8f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251012051032_089e7a01ed5afdad35c7a298024e65893b8cf252eb2fce3b919e72c60a3c7a8f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Song of the soil NT"> </figure>  --- <h2>"I make sure I am always connected to the story"</h2> - Chuden Kabimo, the winner of this year's Madan Puraskar literary prize for the book Urmaal Nepali Times: Your journalism about the Gorkhaland Movement inspired your earlier novel, Faatsung. What was your process in learning about tea plantation workers for Urmaal? Chuden Kabimo: I had been reporting on the second Gorkhaland movement, so it was easy for me to write Faatsung. For Urmaal, I lived with the tea plantation community. I started work six months after Faatsung was published, heading to the Dooars and exploring it. I had gone with the intention of writing a story about child marriage in a community there.&nbsp; I talked to the locals and the workers, and the need to write Urmaal started pulling me. I would often think that I had enough material for my story, but then I would want to add certain elements, which kept me going back over the five years it took to write the book.&nbsp; How does all that information you gather develop into a storyline and characters?&nbsp; When I start the book I don’t know how the plot will start and end. I talk to many people from different backgrounds. Each person tends to introduce me to other people that I should speak to.&nbsp; I listen to their stories. As the stories start to fit together, I get a sense of the plot and that is where my characters come from. For a single character I need to bring together the stories of many people, maybe ten or twelve. It is not possible to base a character on a single individual all the time. I start where I want to, and as I keep writing the story slowly takes shape. I wrote what ended up becoming the last chapter for Urmaal, first.&nbsp; What about your actual writing process? I wake up early in the morning, then I either go cycling or play football. Then I get back and &nbsp;sit at my computer for sometimes two hours. I sometimes write only two lines in the two hours, sometimes I can write five hundred words. I don’t set a word count for myself. I cannot write a lot at once, I am a slow writer, but I strongly believe that you have to write daily.&nbsp; When you do not write daily, especially for a novel, you tend to lose the connection to the story. I just make sure that I am always connected to the story, which helps me always think about it even when I am on the bus or something.&nbsp; What does winning the Madan Puraskar mean to you?&nbsp; I feel that the Madan Puraskar is the biggest prize in Nepali literature, so it is a source of great pride for me.&nbsp; When I wrote my first book, I hadn’t thought of winning any prizes. When I wrote Faatsung I was thinking much more of Kalimpong and Darjeeling. What Faatsung did for me was make me recognised. A lot of people in Nepal liked it too. How to outdo Faatsung was a challenge for me when I wrote Urmaal. After the book was published, it was getting some good reviews but I didn’t expect it to win the Madan Puraskar. I was at home reading in Siliguri when I got the news.&nbsp; For other awards, like the JCB, they had contacted me to tell me that I had been shortlisted or that I won, but to not reveal it to anyone. It was the opposite with the Madan Puraskar. I was notified via Facebook!&nbsp; It was a unique type of happiness. It is also great motivation for me to work on my third novel. Perhaps I will do something about Sikkim, moving away from Gorkhaland.&nbsp; How does it feel being recognised in Nepal? Six years ago, readers in Nepal did not know who I was. I was new to Nepal and Nepal was new to me. I grew up in rural Kalimpong, and we only had a radio for entertainment. On the radio, we used to listen to Nepali programs, which developed an emotional attachment to the country.&nbsp; I came to Kathmandu for the first time for Faatsung, and it was a lot of fun seeing the places that I had heard about on the radio. The journey after that, of the love the readers have shown for the book and now the prize, has been very meaningful.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251012051032_98bbbef41bc3ca68f0e8c84edd40f7e6c5bd012186e09a08b4ed9631fd9a009b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251012051032_98bbbef41bc3ca68f0e8c84edd40f7e6c5bd012186e09a08b4ed9631fd9a009b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Urmaal NT"> </figure>