<img width="1500" height="938" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636baca29c7e80680e077f43jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nearly 50 years after American government pressure forced Nepal to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/cannabis-high-time-to-lift-ban,2548" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">outlaw the cultivation and consumption of cannabis</a>, the Himalayan country is trying to bring back an important cash crop that also may have medicinal applications to fight COVID-19.The pandemic was already spreading in March when former law minister Sher Bahadur Tamang of the ruling Nepal Communist Party (NCP) registered a private bill in Parliament to overturn a 1976 law that criminalised the cultivation, sale and consumption of cannabis.“The bill is designed for the economic upliftment of poor farmers that depend on the cannabis crop,” says an optimistic Tamang. “So far we have received very positive response from fellow MPs and I am sure there will not be a single vote against it.” <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/cannabis-high-time-to-lift-ban,2548" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">High time to lift ban</a>, Sarthak Mani Sharma<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undo-hash-ban,3657" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Push to undo hash ban in Nepal</a>, Sahina ShresthaTamang’s bill proposes formation of a 14-member Marijuana Board chaired by the secretary of the Ministry of Health which will regulate commercial cannabis cultivation, its trade and sale. Individuals above 18 years of age can apply for annual license from the local government or their district to farm cannabis. The Cannabis indica plant grows wild in Nepal, and especially thrives in the western mountains where the stem, leaves, resin and oil are used in the household for medicinal purposes, or sold.The open sale of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undo-hash-ban,3657" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">marijuana</a> in Kathmandu in the 1960s was what drew the hippies to Nepal, and as the counter culture and the anti-Vietnam War movement grew, President Richard Nixon saw it as a security threat.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJ-ER0GdJd8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">“America’s public enemy number one is drug abuse,” he said</a> (pictured below) and vowed to wage a “worldwide offensive dealing with the sources of supply as well as Americans stationed abroad wherever they are in the world.” <figure><img width="1151" height="847" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636baca59c7e80680e077f44jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="1068" height="788" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636baca79c7e80680e077f45jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kathmandu had become a haven for anti-war ‘peaceniks’, draft dodgers, and Vietnam veterans. White House recordings from the early 1970s reveal Secretary of State Henry Kissinger warning Nixon: “They come from Nepal to demonstrate against you because up there they can get free pot ... or at least it is legal.”Banning cannabis drove the cultivation and use of this important cash crop underground and into the hands of organised criminals with police and political protection. Nepal’s subsistence farmers were pushed deeper into poverty, and may even have sparked the Maoist revolution in later years.Campaigners in Kathmandu now see no reason why Nepal should keep the ban when the Americans who forced it on Nepal have legalised it in 25 states for medical and commercial purposes.The COVID-19 pandemic has added another reason to lift the ban. A Canadian study in April determined that chemicals found in the Cannabis sativa plant could <a href="https://www.preprints.org/manuscript/202004.0315/v1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">block SARS-CoV-2 from entering a person’s body</a>.Researchers at the University of Nebraska and the Texas Biomedical Research Institute also <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC7187842/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">published a paper</a> detailing the anti-inflammatory properties of chemicals in the cannabis plant that could be useful in treating lung inflammation in COVID-19 patients. In Israel, <a href="https://nocamels.com/2020/06/israel-researchers-rambam-campus-cannabis-covid19/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">clinical trials have been scheduled</a> to use cannabis-derived Cannabidiol (CBD, the non-psychoactive component in the plant) to treat inflammation in COVID-19 patients. An Israeli start-up Stereo Therapeutic recently said that<a href="https://www.israel21c.org/cbd-may-improve-steroid-therapy-in-autoimmune-covid-19-patients/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> cannabis could improve steroid</a> therapy in autoimmune COVID-19 patients."Cannabis has cooling effect and it has been used in traditional medicine to reduce fever. Unsurprisingly this aligns with the recent findings," says legalisation activist Rajiv Kafle. "I'm a strong believer that the use of chemicals in the cannabis plant can lead us to COVID-19 treatment."Although these are preliminary findings, they have added a sense of urgency to pro-cannabis activism in Nepal, and if Tamang’s Cannabis Cultivation (Management) Act is endorsed by Parliament, Nepali farmers could benefit. The bill restricts farmers from cultivating only cannabis in their land and proposes that farmers with more land can use a smaller proportion for cannabis cultivation. It will allow farmers to sell marijuana directly to people with a doctor’s prescription, to pharmaceutical companies approved by the Board, and to authorised agents for export.Explains Tamang: “Given the international demand for good quality marijuana for medicinal use, farmers here can easily earn up to Rs2 million a year cultivating it in addition to hemp and other crops. It would reduce out-migration, reduce poverty and encourage tourism.”Not everyone is happy with the bill to legalise cannabis. Critics say it takes the easy way out, focusing solely on cannabis sale by exporting the raw produce without exploring indigenous use in traditional medicine. They say it also ignores Nepal’s potential in developing by-products like hemp fibre.“The bill in its current state is invested in controlling marijuana and making money out of it. This in fact reinforces fear associated with smoking weed,” says Saurav Dhakal of the sustainable agriculture group, Green Growth. “We should be studying various cannabis strains found in Nepal and build our capacity for value-added products because raw marijuana gives us no competitive edge.” There is also a distinct lack of awareness about the differences between <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/clothed-in-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hemp</a> and marijuana. In fact, cannabis legalisation debate has largely overshadowed the potential of hemp, the strongest natural fibre in the world.  <figure><img width="1400" height="933" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636baca99c7e80680e077f46jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Hemp is a subspecies of cannabis and contains 0.3% or less tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the naturally occurring psychoactive compound that gives cannabis its narcotic property. It is used in textile, cosmetics, food and beverage, and even in construction. In its natural state, hemp plant restores soil fertility and absorbs four-times more carbon dioxide than adult trees.  <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/clothed-in-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Clothed in cannabis</a>, Pema Sherpa<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=879#.XwbkqG0zbIU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Legalise it</a>, Alok TumbhahangpheyMarijuana is also a subspecies of cannabis but contains up to 30% THC and is used for recreational smoking. It is known to have therapeutic effect for over 100 illnesses. “It is very important that we differentiate between hemp and marijuana but the proposed act doesn’t do so in precise terms,” says cannabis consultant Ravi Pradhan. “We should make hemp legal for cultivation, consumption and sale. As for marijuana, we are still harbour false perceptions from 50 years ago. Nepal could benefit far more from both marijuana and hemp being legal.” Medical marijuana now accounts for 71% of the global legal marijuana market, which by 2027 will be worth $76 billion a year, and activists say Nepal can be a major source of these crops.Despite his reservations, Saurav Dhakal admits that the bill is a step forward: “The good news is that we have a bill in Parliament, people are finally listening to us and discussing cannabis as a beneficial crop rather than a drug. But we need to make sure that legalising cannabis benefits the neediest Nepalis.”------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Medical marijuana<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bacac9c7e80680e077f47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="598">Marijuana is known to have therapeutic effects in over 100 illnesses ranging from cancer and HIV/AIDS to bipolar disorder and spinal cord injuries. Its possible use in treatment of COVID-10 patients is what getting cannabis legalisation activists excited.  Rajiv Kafle is an HIV/AIDS survivor and says marijuana has been particularly effective for people living with HIV. He says: "Former cocaine and heroin users who now use cannabis are now more stable, have higher quality of life and are economically sound.”Earlier anti-HIV drugs such as didanosine and stavudine caused painful nerve condition called pheripheral neuropathy as a side effect. Cannabis proved to be effective in relieving pain as well as in treating symptoms caused by stronger anti-retrovirals.Despite obvious benefits, the prescription of marijuana is not easy. There is social stigma associated with using hashish because it is illegal. Nepal’s 1976 law allows medical use of marijuana but there is no prescribing standard and medical professionals are not educated to direct proper doses and quantities.The proposed bill in Parliament allows households to grow up to six cannabis plants without permit. This means patients who need to use marijuana can easily grow the plant themselves.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------POT VOCAB[caption id="attachment_50461" align="alignnone" width="640"]<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141132/636bacae9c7e80680e077f48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"> Photo: SUMAN BASNETMarijuana: Psychoactive drug made from the dried leaves and flowers of the Cannabis plant, contains tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). Also known as weed, pot, grass, Mary Jane.Hemp: A variety of Cannabis plant that grows up to 3m tall and contains less than 0.3% of THC. Fibre is used to  make clothing and bagsHashish: Also known as charas in the Subcontinent, is the resin made from rubbing Cannabis flowers and top leaves.Ganja: Marijuana in Nepali, Hindi and Sanskrit, used to denote both the drug and the Cannabis plant.Bhang: Edible form of marijuana made by crushing green leaves and buds of the Cannabis plant. Smoked and eaten at festival time in Nepal.

Sonia Awale

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Grass is greener in Nepal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NZJcggr4FQ&amp;feature=youtu.be<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/feeling-groovy" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hippies flocked to Nepal</a> in the 1960s and ’70s, drawn by the freedom to buy and smoke pot. But today, tourists are attracted by t-shirts, shawls and jackets made from the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=879#.XRSFXuszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">marijuana plant</a>.While there are still weed pushers on the streets of Thamel trying to sell you a smoke, the tourist hub is now better known for designer apparel made from a blend of cannabis fibre and cotton.“In my business cannabis isn’t illegal. If cannabis was illegal then we wouldn’t have these products on sale,” says Yubaraj Timilsina, who started out as a vegetable vendor and now owns Hemp Headquarter, which manufactures and runs a wholesale shop for cannabis-based attire.Timilsina and others who deal in cannabis fabric source their products from western Nepal, where <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/marijuana-high-time-to-lift-ban,2548" target="_blank" rel="noopener">marijuana cultivation</a> is permitted for hemp production, under strict supervision of the local police. Western Nepal suffered greatly from the US-induced ban on cannabis in the 1970s, when already impoverished farmers were pushed into deeper poverty because of the loss of their cash crop.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=879#.XRSFXuszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Legalise it</a>, Alok Tumbahangphey<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undo-hash-ban,3657" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Push to undo hash ban in Nepal</a>, Sahina Shrestha<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46f09c7e80680e04d405jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>PHhotos: SONAM CHOEKYI LAMA/PEMA SHERPA</figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46f39c7e80680e04d406jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">On 26 June, International Day against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking, instead of encouraging farmers to plant hemp and start a local industry, police are destroying plants in Tanahu and Chainpur.“The cannabis bushes grow in the wild, they are not cultivated, and we collect the stems from which the fibre is sourced,” says Baburam Bohra from Bajura, the district known to produce the healthiest cannabis plants.While the shrubs can grow up to 3m tall, those harvested for fibre are cut before they flower, which means they cannot be used for smoking. The stems are soaked in water for 10 days so that the outer layer peels off, making it easier for the pulp inside to be extracted.The raw plant tissue is then boiled with ash and washed multiple times to produce fibre. The whole process takes up to three weeks, giving one roll of fibre 3m in length. Hemp fibre is dark tan or brown and is difficult to bleach, but it can be dyed bright and dark colours.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/marijuana-high-time-to-lift-ban,2548" target="_blank" rel="noopener">High time to lift ban</a>, Sarthak Mani SharmaThe fibre does not contain tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the naturally occurring psychoactive compound that gives cannabis its narcotic property, so it will not, for example, alert sniffer dogs at airports.Clothing and bags made from 100% hemp fabric can cost up to Rs10,000 depending on their design and size. Yet production is still limited with those bags that are made going mostly to Australia, Spain and Canada, which have legalised marijuana to varying degrees.“I come to Nepal every six months to buy hemp bags to sell them in Spain,” says Nacho Baranas, who owns a shop in Barcelona featuring handicraft from all over the world, including Nepal.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46f79c7e80680e04d407jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="746">Timilsina sells a variety of hemp-based products, including bags, shawls, shirts, trousers and yoga bags. “Foreigners like our hemp bags because they are durable and all-natural,” he says.Thamel trader Prem Dahal is acknowledged by his peers as the pioneer of the hemp trade. He was inspired to take it up 28 years ago after travelling with shepherds in western Nepal and finding that their hardy mattresses were woven from cannabis fibre.“Hemp fabric is stronger, more absorbent and has better insulation against heat and cold than cotton,” Dahal explains. “Hemp is environmentally friendly.”Given that half the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/heavy-pesticide-use-and-low-consumer-awareness-affecting-public-health,1394" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pesticide</a> sprayed worldwide is in cotton plantations, hemp is a nature-friendly alternative fabric. The plant also prevents soil erosion on mountain slopes because of its thick deep root system, and the fabric can be made into at least 100 types of products.“If hemp was fully legal, and allowed to be grown on an industrial scale, it would be as valuable as gold,” says Dahal, who is critical of MPs from western Nepal who do not <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/undo-hash-ban,3657" target="_blank" rel="noopener">push for the legalisation of marijuana</a>, which would be a rare job booster.Timilsina sells up to 400 hemp bags per month, but sees another threat on the horizon: cheaper Chinese bags.<h2>Social fabric</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46f99c7e80680e04d408jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">A blend of fabrics from the Himalaya with creative patterns and effective marketing have made Nepal’s hemp-based products trendy in designer stores in Europe, North America and Japan.For the past 20 years, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/05/03/sixth-sense-success/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Karuna Natural Wears</a> has been exporting high quality clothes blending hemp with other natural fibres like nettles, aloe and bamboo designed for durability and comfort.“The reason hemp textiles are popular among our customers here and abroad is that they are comfortable, suitable for people with sensitive skin, they are naturally resistant to UV rays, the design to holds shape well and stretches less,” explains designer Nabina Maharjan.Indeed, the hemp clothing on display at Karuna’s store in Darbar Marg and Lazimpat, and Juju in Jhamsikhel in their subdued earthy colours and tastefully rendered minimalist traditional patterns, are soft to the touch. There are t-shirts, pants, skirts and a whole range of bags and other hemp-based products.Although the hemp fabric is mainly sourced from western Nepal, the quality and supply was not reliable enough and Karuna now imports some raw material from China and India.Most in demand at Karuna and Juju stores are apparel from blended fabric, and although they are slightly more expensive, the hemp-cotton fabric is the most popular.Sonam Choekyi Lama<h2>Green Gold</h2>In 1976, after American youth started flocking to Nepal by the thousands attracted by cheap and legal pot, Nepal was forced by the US government to ban the use and sale of marijuana.This threw thousands of farmers out of work, and made impoverished western Nepal even poorer. Today, while US states are legalising marijuana it still remains banned in Nepal.Ravi Pradhan is a Nepali consultant who has been advising the Cambodian government on legalising marijuana. He says it is absurd that the US government still classifies marijuana as a narcotic drug when experts agree on its <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17997#.XRSFWeszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">medicinal properties and therapeutic effects</a>. “For Nepali farmers it can be a green gold,” Pradhan told a recent conference in Kathmandu on legalising marijuana.Nepal’s Narcotics Drugs Control Act allows the use of the wildly grown cannabis plant, but it is vague and confusing, and its enforcement even more arbitrary. Activists are now pushing for legalisation of hemp cultivation so that plants can be used to make fabric, and – that battle won – they say want to shift their focus to legalising ganja for medical use and even recreational consumption.The activists’ approach is to clearly show the difference between hemp and marijuana. Although they are both derived from the cannabis plant, their morphology, properties and uses are different.Marijuana is a variety of cannabis that contains tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). Hemp, on the other hand, is a non-psychoactive variety of the cannabis plant. Because the leaves look like marijuana, however, most people cannot tell the difference.Sales of hemp products worldwide are expected to reach $2.6 billion by 2022, with China being the world’s largest exporter. Hemp production in Nepal is not banned, but is limited. For example, businesses can only use wild plants.Although marijuana is classified as a narcotic drug, the oil is used traditionally as a muscle relaxant, the leaves are made into chutney, and it is an active ingredient in many ayurvedic products.Pawan Joshi produces hemp oil called Dava, which contains Omega 3 and 6. He says: “It is totally legal to produce the hemp oil as the hemp seeds are legal and the oil doesn’t get you high. We now need across-the-board legalisation of hemp.”<h2>POT VOCAB</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46fc9c7e80680e04d409jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933">Marijuana: Psychoactive drug made from the dried leaves and flowers of the Cannabis plant, contains tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). Also known as weed, pot, grass, Mary Jane.Hemp: A variety of Cannabis plant that grows up to 3m tall and contains less than 0.3% of THC. Fibre is used to  make clothing and bags (see large story).Ganja: Marijuana in Nepali, Hindi and Sanskrit, used to denote both the drug and the Cannabis plant.Bhang: Edible form of marijuana made by crushing green leaves and buds of the Cannabis plant. Smoked and eaten at festival time in Nepal.Hashish: Also known as charas in the Subcontinent, is the resin made from rubbing Cannabis flowers and top leaves.<h2>Wearing paper</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a46ff9c7e80680e04d40ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1360"><a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5642#.XRSFdOszaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Traditional Nepali paper</a> made from the bark of the lokta plant is used for legal documents because they are insect resistant. Now, one company in Nepal is also making shirts and jackets from the paper.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3860#.XRSFd-szaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lokta pulp</a> sourced from the mountains of Myagdi district are processed and pulled out into lokta thread which are then interwoven with other fabric like cotton or hemp to make items of clothing, cushions, tote bags and placemats.“We decided to experiment and do something different, and thought why not use lokta also for fabric and not just for <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Putting-it-down-on-paper-nepali,3750" target="_blank" rel="noopener">paper products</a>,” says Rita Bhandari of Nepal Paper Crafts, which has been exporting Nepali paper products.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110813118/636a47029c7e80680e04d40bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="401">Bhandari collaborated with the Netherlands-based designer Janske Megens with whom she was the recipient of the Dutch Design Award 2008 for innovation and simplicity of design for Paper Text Cushion. Nepali paper clothing is most popular in Holland.“Lokta fabric is strong, can easily be dyed, printed, embroidered and washed. It will not get brittle with age and has natural insect repellent properties,” adds Bhandari.Paper cloth is made from lokta thread as weft and weaved with allo, silk, cotton, hemp, wool fabric as warp. The warp on the cloth depends on customers’ order, and the whole process is natural and handmade which is their unique selling point.“They are popular in the West because it is all natural, the clothings are cool in summer and warm in winter,” says Bhandari, who is now exploring a larger international market for Made in Nepal paper fabric.Pema Sherpa

Clothed in cannabis in Kathmandu

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Sacred seed feeds boom

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

thc

Grass is greener in Nepal

Clothed in cannabis in Kathmandu

The Himalaya is not fragile

My father’s son

Sacred seed feeds boom

Parks by the people and for the people