Journalist, environmental activist and pioneer of Nepal’s community radio movement, Bhairab Risal has died at age 97 at a hospital in Kathmandu.
Risal’s journalism career took him from being chief reporter at the national news agency RSS to hosting a regular studio talk on Radio Sagarmatha, Nepal’s first community radio station. He spoke extempore from the studio about everything from plastic pollution to the need to address the concerns of senior citizens.
When not in a newsroom or radio studio, he would be roaming to the remotest parts of the country promoting initiatives to fund schooling for underserved children in Dolakha, or paying for farming families in Humla to install solar lights. He was perhaps the only Nepali journalist who had been to all of Nepal’s 77 districts.
Risal was born in 1927 in the Tikathali village of Bhaktapur, where he lived all his life. While working for the official news agency, he was jailed for criticising the Panchayat system, and kept a diary while in detention which he later published as साधुलाई सुली (Skewered Saint).
Once released from jail, he joined Bhaktapur’s Nepal Workers’ Peasants’ Party in the 1991 parliamentary elections, but lost by only 1,300 votes. It is intriguing to speculate what would have happened to Bhaktapur and Nepal today had he won that election.&nbsp;
He then turned into an environmental activist and was one of the leading figures in the Nepal Forum of Environmental Journalists (NEFEJ). A guru to many of us younger journalists, Bhairab Dai (as he was fondly known) demanded the same professional high standards and integrity from us that he practiced himself.
Once in 1967, Risal was sent to cover a press conference by visiting UN Secretary General U Thant. This was before recording devices, and not knowing a word of English, Risal transcribed what U Thant said in English into his notebook in phonetic Devnagari and got someone back in the newsroom to translate it into Nepali. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11605" target="_blank">He told this newspaper in 2000</a> on his 75th birthday: “I think it is the company of enthusiastic young journalists that re-energises me all the time. I feel younger every day.” Indeed, Risal was actively lecturing and writing well into his 90s, until his physical health started declining in the past two years. His Radio Sagarmatha interviews with seniors has been published as <a href="https://thuprai.com/author/bhairav-risal/?srsltid=AfmBOoo106kEP21yLaip836nEZBqeZDX_nAt1vVj5GoJBRPOHYReRhbP" target="_blank">उहिले बाजेको पालामा</a> (In the Time of our Grandfathers).&nbsp;
After hearing that Nepal’s medical colleges imported corpses from India, Risal and his wife Sushila willed that their bodies be donated to medical science at Patan Hospital. Although always hard up, Risal would mobilise funds for initiatives like a trust fund for married women students, raising money or for lighting up homes in remote parts of Nepal with solar-powered batteries.
Rsial was deputed to far-western Nepal as an enumerator for the 1961 national census, and wrote about his experience for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/remembering-the-1961-census" target="_blank">Nepali Times in 2021</a>. He collected household data in the villages of Gunji, Nabi and Kuti in the disputed Limpiyadhura region on the Indian border that was historically a part of Nepal.
‘The fact that the government of Nepal had actually conducted a census there in 1961 has been cited as irrefutable proof that the territory east of the main channel of the Kali River has always been a part of Nepal,’ Risal wrote.
He launched the Light Up Humla campaign while the Maoist conflict was raging, and when the roadless district in Nepal’s northwestern tip still did not have electricity. The initiative provided solar-powered lights for 7,000 households in a district where people used sooty pine resin lamps for indoor lighting. This caused respiratory infections, and was a major cause of death of babies and children in a district with the highest infant mortality rate in Nepal.&nbsp;
Risal’s plan was to raise money from 7,000 donors in Nepal and abroad, as he <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=188" target="_blank">explained to this newspaper</a>: ‘We will ask one Nepali who enjoys the benefits of modern electricity to support another who is living in darkness.’ The plan worked.
I visited Humla with Bhairab Dai in 2006 to report on his solar light campaign. The conflict had just ended, and it was clear that the war had pushed the region’s development behind. An under construction hydropower plant on a tributary of the Karnali was abandoned because of the violence and the district was in darkness.&nbsp;
In the village of Langduk, a day’s walk from Simkot, Gore Sunwar was emotional to finally meet the man who had brought a lamp to light the darkness of households in his Dalit neighbourhood.&nbsp;
I remember him holding Bhairab Dai’s hands, and saying: “You are the only one who thought of us poor people, no one else did. My children are in school, they can finish their homework at night and they are not coughing anymore.”&nbsp;
Later, on the trail back to Simikot, Bhairab Dai told me that raising money was the easy part. The hard part was to make it sustainable with training and backup support. &nbsp;
Bhairab Risal was a recipient of many awards, including the Jagadamba Shree lifetime achievement prize in service of the Nepali language.&nbsp;
Read Nepali Times # 299 from 26 May 2006 in PDF <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_299.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.

Kunda Dixit

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Bhairab Dai’s shining light

“I do not know if I will survive till then,” Lil Bahadur Chettri said to &nbsp;visitors last month in Guwahati while the city’s tightly knit Nepali-speaking community was preparing to mark the author’s 93rd birthday on 1 March.&nbsp; Chettri was frail, but his mind was sharp as he recalled to the visitors from Nepal how his classic novel बसाइँ (Basain) was first published in 1958.&nbsp; <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/I-feel,240">Lil Bahadur Chettri</a> did attend his birthday on 1 March with the launch of a collection of his novels, लीलबहादुर क्षत्री उपन्यास समग्र, but the multi-award winning author died on 13 March at his home in Guwahati.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314050320_c7eb3f7ba3ee66bcc02bcc9993c6cde074f2ac0e7de10b293de47220da32bc80.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250314050320_c7eb3f7ba3ee66bcc02bcc9993c6cde074f2ac0e7de10b293de47220da32bc80" data-rendition-name="original" width="1764" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Lil Bahadur Chettri"> <figcaption>With visiting members of Madan Puraskar Guthi in Guwahati last month. Photo: RUPA JOSHI</figcaption> </figure>  At least two generations of Nepalis know <a href="https://thuprai.com/book/basain/" target="_blank">Basain</a> almost by heart because it was a literature textbook at Tribhuvan University. Like thousands of others, Chettri’s family migrated to Assam from the mountains of eastern Nepal, and the novel was about factors like indebtedness, poverty and discrimination that were driving Nepalis out.. The novel nearly never got printed, Chettri recalled in the recent meeting. He had sent the manuscript to Kamal Dixit in Kathmandu of <a href="https://guthi.madanpuraskar.org/" target="_blank">Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya</a>, and after not hearing from him thought it was not good enough to be printed. “One day, a friend from Darjeeling came to have me autograph my own book, and I did not even know it had been published,” Chettri remembered with a chuckle.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314050320_d6f4b334800bf02be6b9ec27c7f5aba925c5d59c1228249f71c7b880336c7878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250314050320_d6f4b334800bf02be6b9ec27c7f5aba925c5d59c1228249f71c7b880336c7878" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Lil Bahadur Chettri"> <figcaption>Lil Bahadur Chettri walked unassisted to bid farewell to visitors from Nepal three weeks before he died on Thursday in Assam. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Basain went on to become a bestseller, and has much resonance 70 years later since the push factors driving outmigration from Nepal are still the same, even as the volume of people leaving has grown.&nbsp; Chettri wrote in a preface to the first edition of Basain in 1958: 'Do Nepalis leave their homes because they wish to? Perhaps that is true for many of them, but for others it is quite a different matter. I chose the misery and mystery that lie at the root of this as the theme of Basain.’ <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14397" target="_blank">Basain was translated into English</a> in 2008 on the 50th anniversary of its first publication by Michael J Hutt of the School of Oriental and African Studies with the title <a href="https://thuprai.com/author/lila-bahadur-kshetri/?srsltid=AfmBOopdpmx2mVBc35IuP0QoWwjXoP37ljD4iUcv6Bu3FFT91iGAaVx2" target="_blank">Mountains Painted with Turmeric</a>. But in a cruel irony, Tribhuvan University a few years ago removed Basain from its list of required reading for Nepali literature students.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250314050324_796c88143b8d0fcd777e3830ae7b3baa44927180825fc8d576b2c25b7947de55.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250314050324_796c88143b8d0fcd777e3830ae7b3baa44927180825fc8d576b2c25b7947de55" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Lil Bahadur Chettri books"> </figure>  In the get-together with members of <a href="https://madanpuraskar.org/" target="_blank">Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya</a> in Guwahati last month, the author needed help to walk into his living room. Faltering in his speech at first, he grew more and more animated during the one hour meeting as he remembered fondly the respect he got whenever he visited Nepal. Chettri lived with his son and his family, and slept in a bedroom full of books that he called “my jungle”. His daughter-in-law Kalpana was surprised how much meeting the guests from Nepal invigorated him.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025031406034_86cced4ce43dd066ac50f40d102c19c9a32c1281086f9085554477f3f30d74f3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025031406034_86cced4ce43dd066ac50f40d102c19c9a32c1281086f9085554477f3f30d74f3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2731" height="4096" loading="lazy" alt="Lil Bahadur Chettri"> <figcaption>Lil Bahadur Chettri receiving the Padma Shri from the President of India Ram Nath Kovind in 2021. Photo: PRESIDENT OF INDIA / X</figcaption> </figure>  “Your visit has been like medicine for him,” she said. “We hear him talking to his books at night.” When it was time to leave, Lil Bahadur Chettri walked unassisted to the door to bid the visitors from Nepal good bye. Lil Bahadur Chettri was born on 1 March 1933 in Guwahati of Assam state in India. In 2016, he was awarded the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jagadamba_Shree_Puraskar" target="_blank">Jagadamba Shree</a> prize by Madan Puraskar Guthi in Nepal and got the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Padma_Shri" target="_blank">Padma Shri</a> from the President of India in 2021 for his contribution to literature and education. He was also a recipient of India’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Padma_Shri" target="_blank">Sahitya Academy Award</a> for his book ब्रह्मपुत्रको छेउछाउ. In his Jagadamba Shree acceptance speech nine years ago, Lil Bahadur Chettri had said: “Our ancestors left Nepal, and have been living outside for generations. But for us, our Nepali culture with its language, literature is still precious to us.”

Lil Bahadur Chettri, 93

We called each other ‘Kamred’ although neither of us were anything close to being communists.&nbsp; If I phoned him and he was not around, I would ask that he be just told “Kamred had called”, and I would get a call back from Bihari Krishna Shrestha as soon as he got home. It all started way back in 1986. The World Bank had spent more than a decade with three water supply projects in a dozen Nepali cities including Kathmandu, and was poised to launch the Fourth which was to be the notorious Melamchi water supply project for Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp; But the Bank’s major conditionality was that His Majesty’s Government of Nepal massively raise its water tariff. Prime Minister Marich Man Singh was in a fix: not only was any such increase hugely unpopular but in this case none of the three projects had delivered what they had promised, which was improved 24-hour water supply in all the major Nepali cities as well as effective wastewater and sewerage disposal.&nbsp; So, he did what politicians conveniently do: formed a commission then known popularly as the “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnKSLgFXuOo&amp;t=2951s" target="_blank">Pokhrel Commission</a>”. It was chaired by former chief engineer and member of the Rashtriya Panchayat Birendra Kesari Pokhrel with joint-secretary of the National Planning Commission Bihariji (who had also worked with the Royal Palace’s corruption investigation outfit, the Jaanch Bujh Bibhag) and me. Apparently, we took our task a bit too seriously, starting bottom-up calling a formal meeting of all municipalities with Bihariji going west all the way to Nepalgunj, and me east up to Dharan. Following that, we summoned all the donor and Nepali officials to testify before us and explain what we had seen. Our primary conclusions were that, with Kathmandu’s leakage and theft of drinking water standing at an average of 70%, Melamchi was premature.&nbsp; We recommended putting efforts instead on plugging those holes, dismantling the centralised water supply office at Tripureshwar and handing over water supply management to the municipalities themselves. The central authorities did not like our findings, and refused to decentralise the management of water supply: they accused us of ‘going beyond our brief’. The World Bank too spent the next eight years trying to suppress our report, ultimately withdrawing from Melamchi and the urban water supply sector altogether. &nbsp;In a classic case of not ‘donor harmonization’ but ‘donor competition’, the Asian Development Bank then jumped in to take up Melamchi, with the sad results we see today. It was during tea breaks and khaja time at the tense Pokhrel Commission investigation hearings that I would regale them with my collection of anti-Soviet Russian jokes. That is what led Bihariji to start calling me ‘Kamred’, and vice versa.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250210110212_353aa397e4d8a8851498aebc2db675107f73dd5a54936dae6d7c5ba95ad0dcbf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250210110212_353aa397e4d8a8851498aebc2db675107f73dd5a54936dae6d7c5ba95ad0dcbf" data-rendition-name="original" width="2416" height="3502" loading="lazy" alt="Bihari Krishna Shrestha NT"> <figcaption>Photo: KANAK MANI DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  In 1989 at the height of the Indian blockade, when I had left my government job and become and independent consultant/researcher, I got a call from Bihariji who was then secretary of housing and physical planning responsible for water supply.&nbsp; The Germans had completed their Dhulikhel water supply project and were planning to hand it over to the central office at Tripureswar. Knowing its decrepit state, Bihariji was not willing to go that route. Being Nepal’s first ethnographer and fully conversant with the capacity of local groups to work wonders, he asked me if I could do an evaluation of its local institutional capacity and to find out if they could manage such a system if handed over to them.&nbsp; His early ethnographic work in Jumla’s irrigation system, which showed how Jumlis grew rice where rice cannot normally be grown at altitudes of 2,600m using <a href="https://bulletin.ids.ac.uk/index.php/idsbo/article/view/2822/ONLINE%20ARTICLE" target="_blank">a complex nexus of social and agricultural practices</a>, was telling him it was possible. I stayed in Dhulikhel for weeks, even as anti-Panchayat agitations were roiling the country, and found out that Nepal’s sharpest traders, the creative Dhulikhel sahujis led by their redoubtable mayor <a href="https://www.google.com.np/books/edition/Dirty_Sacred_Rivers/YtY5rfEgFv4C?hl=en&amp;gbpv=0" target="_blank">Bel Prasad Shrestha</a>, were more than capable and willing to run the water system by themselves.&nbsp; Against much establishment opposition, it was handed over to them, and today Dhulikhel is one the best municipality-run water utility in Nepal. We were neighbours in Patan and stayed in touch, dropping over for guff-gaff. Our last professional work together was his agreeing to write a chapter for <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Aid-Technology-and-Development-The-Lessons-from-Nepal/Gyawali-Thompson-Verweij/p/book/9781138612563?srsltid=AfmBOoo3qeTg7Z2gouipl0R1QKkBUoUz-ECly2ADnpXyUXWgnDbEKBy1" target="_blank">a book I was editing</a> and which was published by Routledge London in 2017.&nbsp; It was on the success of the small farmers’ cooperative movement since the 1980s, as well as its subsequent decline due to allegedly democratic but unresponsive government as well as self-centered foreign donors.&nbsp; A few months back, I had dropped by his Chakupat home to convince him to talk to a group of activists from all the three valley cities on the value of, and the means to protect, traditional guthis.&nbsp; He agreed and had enthusiastically started preparing for it, but it had to be postponed as he suffered a bout of mild pneumonia. It was re-scheduled for next month. Alas, it was not to be. Adieu, Kamred! You will live on as a role model and an inspiration for upcoming generations of Nepali social scientists. Dipak Gyawali is a hydropower energy, and political economist and academic with Nepal Academy of Science and Technology (NAST). He is a former minister of water resources.

Remembering ‘Kamred’ Bihari

<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/making-the-restructured-world-bank-more-relevant-to-nepal,279">Bihari Krishna Shrestha</a> transformed the physical, economic, gender and social landscapes of Nepal as a civil servant and anthropologist of the highest order.&nbsp; Throughout his highly productive career Bihari-ji's belief in, and dedication to, local communities formed the bedrock of his work. &nbsp; Through policy initiatives, implementation programs, scholarship, and advocacy, Bihari, played a leading role in the greening of Nepal through Community Forestry, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/women-conserve-men-still-conservative">the empowerment of women's groups</a>, and the fostering of rural economic development.&nbsp; &nbsp;During his years as a Member of the National Planning Commission and Secretary of various government ministries, he spearheaded catalytic Parliamentary Acts for User Groups, Decentralisation, and Rural Development. &nbsp; Along with Prachanda Pradhan, Chandni Joshi and a host of other amazing Nepali and foreign colleagues, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/if-you-don-t-know-where-you-are-going-any-road-will-take-you-there">Bihari</a>'s work directly provided the basis for Elinor Ostrom's Nobel Prize in Economics in 2009. She explicitly acknowledged this debt during her celebratory visit to Nepal in 2010. I was privileged to know Bihari-dai for over 51 years. We first met in 1972 when he was with the Royal Nepal Academy where he wrote his first ethnography on the Karnali region as one volume in the Karnali Lok Sanskriti series. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250209090256_e146184ba86e4080b13bba87de990fdfc840cc69c4e5f90bee28d4ae454d535a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250209090256_e146184ba86e4080b13bba87de990fdfc840cc69c4e5f90bee28d4ae454d535a" data-rendition-name="original" width="400" height="613" loading="lazy" alt="Bihari Krishna Shrestha NT"> </figure>  As I was headed to Jumla to conduct my PhD research under the auspices of the Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies, I had the pleasure of presenting him with a personally sponsored translation of his book Jan Jivan (People's Lives). This introductory offering to my future guru and lifelong friend was a complete surprise and gratefully accepted. We clicked intellectually and personally. &nbsp; Our five decades of collegial partnership began in earnest during my work from 1980 to 1985 with the Community Forestry in Nepal program that was supported by the World Bank and UN. &nbsp;&nbsp; In an email only a month ago on 7 January 2025, Bihari wrote, ‘I cannot forget the day when you, Gabriel had brought the whole team of consultants to my office in NPC that eventually led to change the face of Nepal in greenery, the grand resurrection of our forest wealth. Thank you.’ Bihari Krishna Shrestha - ji, it is you that the nation, the world, and I thank. When we came to your office, we, including World Bank anthropologist consultant Augusta Molnar and Community Forestry Chief, Prahlad Manandhar, documented how <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/taking-away-forests-from-communities">communities only related to forests they considered their own</a> -- and how these did not coincide with the existing Panchayat boundaries and forestry law. &nbsp; This so resonated with your own experience, and that of pioneering forest officers such as Tej Bahadur Singh Mahat, that you ran with the results in your typically impatient fashion. You instigated new policies and laws to establish User Groups as legal entities that empowered them to take management control of their own natural resources. &nbsp; Fast forward to Nepal today. Hundreds of inspired forestry officials, international development workers, and NGOs have devoted years to fostering the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">success of Community Forestry</a>. &nbsp; Now, there are over 23,000 federated community forestry user groups consisting of about 320,000 households and 16 million members managing 2.4 million hectares of forest area.&nbsp; As Bihari continued to document and champion to his last day, these user groups empower women and local communities economically and socially and are remarkably resilient despite many challenges. &nbsp; Bihari Krishna Shrestha, it is a true honour to have known and worked with you. May your legacy continue to inspire us. May your sense of humour and love of life continue to infect us. We will miss you.&nbsp; J. Gabriel Campbell PhD is former ICIMOD Director General, retired. ​<a href="mailto:gcampbell@mountain.org" target="_blank">gcampbell@mountain.org</a>

Bihari Krishna Shrestha, 88

Creator of the successful Shangrila hotel group, with properties in Kathmandu, Pokhara, and soon in Chitwan and Begnas, renowned tourism veteran Shyam Bahadur Panday died last week after a long illness.&nbsp; In a double hit for Nepal’s tourism industry, we lost <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ambica-shrestha-1933-2024-9kaynjv7">Ambica Shrestha</a> the same week, another giant of first wave tourism entrepreneurs. Next generations of family carry both their legacies into the future.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240730120756_5fe83f58816944a200d05cceb23cb8d3dca994df8353a5dab43f3af0e6160580.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240730120756_5fe83f58816944a200d05cceb23cb8d3dca994df8353a5dab43f3af0e6160580" data-rendition-name="original" width="1030" height="830" loading="lazy" alt="Shyam Bahadur Pandey mugshot NT"> <figcaption>Shyam Bahadur Panday 1936-2024, one of Nepal's pioneering tourism entrepreneurs</figcaption> </figure>  Shyam had a pioneering vision for hotels that reflected the spirit of Nepal, and had the foresight to hire many of Kathmandu Valleys best expatriate artists and designers to realise his dream.&nbsp; Cleverly spotting a space in the market between Kathmandu’s five-star properties and the budget lodges that were moving from Freak Street to Thamel, he was able to procure a license due to King Birendra’s coronation. Shyam charged <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/the-lyrical-life-of-Desmond-Doig,1052">his friend Desmond Doig</a>, to design the perfect mid-level Kathmandu hotel. It opened on 1 July 1979.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024073013070_eca3189ae138fca1b1249b826c0083f9556bedcaa1356a379e46a6905a69e9a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024073013070_eca3189ae138fca1b1249b826c0083f9556bedcaa1356a379e46a6905a69e9a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="620" loading="lazy" alt="1979 inauguration of Shangrila Hotel NT"> <figcaption>The 1979 inauguration of Shangrila Hotel by Shyam Bahadur Panday (left), his daughter Millu and mother.</figcaption> </figure>  Desmond was an editor, author, painter, designer, photographer, expeditioner and conservationist, a Renaissance man who delighted in the Valley’s vibrant living artistry. Retiring to Nepal in the 1970s after a lifetime in journalism in Kolkata, ‘Des-la’ adapted his talents to architecture and landscape design.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/remembering-des-la-at-shangri-la">Remembering Des-la at Shangri~la</a>, Lisa Choegyal&nbsp; Utpal Sengupta, the curly haired member of Desmond’s original entourage, managed the hotel with flair and imagination for 20 years. Former employees who cut their teeth at the Shangrila can still be found running travel agencies, resorts and restaurants in Kathmandu and beyond.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240730130724_ce4f4a5d5cc1bbcb21d907698ee1641f74868b00be5af8effe4daab0827c7501.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240730130724_ce4f4a5d5cc1bbcb21d907698ee1641f74868b00be5af8effe4daab0827c7501" data-rendition-name="original" width="3029" height="2412" loading="lazy" alt="Shangrila Hotel plans 1979 NT"> <figcaption>Desmond Doig (left), Elizabeth Hawley, Boris Lissanevitch and Sir Edmund Hillary looking at the Shangrila Hotel plans 1979. Shyam Bahadur Panday requested the talented Desmond to design the original Shangrila Hotel and garden.</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/In-memorium-of-Dubby-Bhagat,3180">Writer Dubby Bhagat</a>, artist Robert Powell and designer Chino Ronchoroni were amongst those who contributed their special style in upgrades and additions. Shyam, and later his sons Prasidha and Prabin, maintained a watchful eye over the decades.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/book-review-of-Down-History%E2%80%99s-Narrow-Lanes-andMy-Kind-of-Kathmandu,2413">Saving what is left</a>, Sonia Awale The Shangrila Village Pokhara at Gharipatan followed and a site was secured in Meghauli in Chitwan. Pranay Panday proudly showed me the resort at Begnas he was building, overlooking the lake and the Annapurna peaks, faithfully following his grandfather Shyam’s original concept. Shyam’s ‘Shang’ became a fixture for many of us local residents, as well as a friendly base for tourists, trekkers, journalists, consultants and film crews. We would often encounter Shyam lurking in the lobby, a gentle smiling presence always with time for a chat or a laugh, usually on his way to a government or industry meeting.&nbsp; Following a career in the civil service and a Masters’ degree from University of Southern California, Shyam realised his talent for business. After establishing the Shangrila group, he became instrumental in developing responsible tourism policies and regulations with the government, HAN and PATA amongst others, recognised with a lifetime achievement award in business leadership.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1742">The legends still live</a>, Sraddha Basnyat Hotelier colleague Yogendra Shakya recalls his devotion to high class hospitality: “Shyam’s contribution to the tourism sector is unparalleled.” Lingering in the al fresco restaurant, lounging at the hiti pool, or enjoying a hot rum punch by the roaring fire in the lobby bar, one might have run into <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19173">Tony Hagen the Swiss development pioneer</a> who walked the length of Nepal, Dudley Spain long-term British Embassy implant, UNICEF’s Gordon ‘Golden’ Temple before he decamped to Bhutan, Jim Edwards the indefatigable owner of Tiger Tops, or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/hiking-with-jimmy">Col Jimmy Roberts</a> with his floppy-eared spaniels, the founder of trekking in Nepal.&nbsp; <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10754">The legendary Boris Lissanevitch</a> regularly graced the kitchens as a special guest chef, bearing bottles of flavoured vodka and bones to make his famous borscht.&nbsp; Dame Freya Stark, Arabist explorer and British eccentric, was one of the first to stay at the Shangrila. Already in her 80s and rather forgetful, she declared on arrival: “I feel we must be somewhere east of the Euphrates.”&nbsp; We arranged two treks for her in the early 1980s with her favourite hill pony named Red Balls. Freya wrote in the Shangrila guest book: “This is the finest hotel I have ever stayed in with the nicest people in it.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240730130728_66048d35cc12a3818bd29b2ef833184a30d110b0734eb2f89dc0c3ac3024bf42.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20240730130728_66048d35cc12a3818bd29b2ef833184a30d110b0734eb2f89dc0c3ac3024bf42" data-rendition-name="original" width="970" height="688" loading="lazy" alt="Dame Freya Start NT"> <figcaption>British explorer, Dame Freya Stark was one of the first celebrity writers to stay at Shyam's Shangrila Hotel in 1980, with Lisa Choegyal</figcaption> </figure>  Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/adventurers-in-a-vanishing-land">Adventurers in a vanishing land</a>, Lisa Choegyal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/highs-and-lows-of-sir-ed">The great burra sahib Sir Edmund Hillary</a>, an ardent Shangrila fan, was feted with a garden dinner by his Sherpa friends to mark the Everest Golden Jubilee 50th anniversary in 2003. Suites were named after him and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/was-tenzing-a-tibetan-nepali-or-indian-it-does-not-matter">Tenzing Norgay</a>.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/what-next-for-reinhold-messner">Reinhold Messner</a> stopped by between 8,000m peaks. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/climber-activist-david-breashears-68-5jqz27nf">David Breashears</a>, maker of IMAX Everest documentary that put Sagarmatha on the trekking map, used the garden as a quiet haven to shoot interviews, &nbsp;including with British film director Stephen Daldry (The Crown and Billy Elliot).&nbsp; Writer and nomadic traveller <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/So-far-so-good/When-Bruce-Chatwin-was-in-Chitwan,1017">Bruce Chatwin </a>came as one of a long line of yeti-hunters en route to the mountains. American Mikel Dunham visited annually, author of Buddha’s Warriors and my co-editor of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu">Elizabeth Hawley’</a>s diaries The Nepal Scene, which covered the turbulent political and social history of Nepal from 1988-2007.&nbsp; Over the years Shyam’s Shangrila Hotel hosted local weddings, rites of passage and some remarkable celebrations. Desmond arranged Utpal’s marriage to Caroline (of Chez Caroline) in 1981 amidst the terraces, fountains and newly planted marigolds in that soothing garden.&nbsp; The Prime Minister attended the 1994 reception honouring the Himalayan chronicler, Elizabeth Hawley, with 35 years of service to Reuters. Always a stickler for accuracy, to our embarrassment she kept interrupting the regional boss’ laudatory speech with factual corrections.&nbsp; Kunda Dixit had survived as Miss Hawley’s youthful journalist intern: “The Shangrila garden reminds me of Desmond Doig who was pivotal to my early career.” As Nepali Times’ publisher, Kunda chose it to mark its twentieth year and one thousandth issue in July 2020. As befitted a celebration in the time of Covid, numbers were limited, the party was muted, and hugs and handshakes were replaced by knuckle taps, elbow embraces and namastes. It would be one of the last events held there. Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/1-000-weeks-of-nepali-times"> 1,000 weeks of Nepali Times</a>, Mark Turin Today the old Shangrila Hotel is a gaping hole in Lazimpath’s landscape, an empty space echoing with memories. Under the direction of Shyam’s two sons and their offspring, Kathmandu, Pokhara, Chitwan and Begnas are in preparation to launch under the prestigious Intercontinental (and Indigo) brands. Whilst the family hotel properties are reincarnated to meet the changing times, founder of the dynasty late Shyam Bahadur Panday’s inheritance will continue to set benchmarks for the future.&nbsp;

Lisa Choegyal

Shyam’s Shangrila

Ambica Shrestha (1933-2024)

<figure><img width="640" height="359" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101144/63720eb29c7e80680e0b7933jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>In 1991, as the editor of Deshantar weekly, I was part of a visiting team of journalists accompanying Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala on his state visit to China. Nepal had just become a constitutional monarchy after the Peoples’ Movement, there was no Google yet, and we did not have too many China watchers in Nepal.To prepare for my Beijing trip, I was directed to the Center for Nepal and Asian Studies (CNAS) where I first met Dhurba Kumar. He gave me monographs and papers to read, and the professor knew so much that he overwhelmed me with information.Dhruba Kumar took great interest in geopolitics vis-a-vis Nepal, and was a self-taught expert on China. Over the years, as Nepal transitioned into multiparty democracy, the Maoist conflict and finally became a republic, I came to rely on Dhurba Kumar for guidance and contributions for Himal Khabarpatrika, the magazine I edited.He did not miss any details, and could present them in fluent, easy-to-grasp language, translating concepts from academese into Nepali or English with equal ease.In 1986-87, when the Indian Peace-keeping Force (IPKF) landed in northern Sri Lanka, there was fear that like Sikkim, Nepal could be the next place for Indian intervention.The theory was that the Indian Army could foment internal conflict in Nepal as well, and use the same pretext of ‘peace-keeping’. The IPKF soon got embroiled in a war with the Tamil Tigers and had to retreat.Through this period, I relied on Dhruba Kumar for sage advice and analysis. Under his tutelage and with Director Khadga Bikram Shah, CNAS produced quality research on the Nepal dimension of the Indian Army’s presence in Sri Lanka.When India and Pakistan conducted nuclear tests in 1997, there was consternation in Nepal that we would be downwind for any radiation fallout. I interviewed Kumar about the implications for Nepal of antagonistic nuclear-armed neighbours with both of which Nepal had cordial relations. No one else at the time had the expertise and insight to analyse this from a Nepali perspective. I sought Dhurba Kumar’s inputs on many other security matters for Himal. Having not written in Nepali previously, he was initially reluctant. I persuaded him that writing in Nepali would not be as difficult for someone with his educational background. Dhruba Kumar was not one of those arm-chair analysts, he did painstaking research, looked at issues objectively and his conclusions would be evidence-based. When the Maoist conflict was at its peak, his analysis of the geopolitical dimensions of the insurgency would be a cover story in Himal. Two years ago, we approached Dhurba Kumar to write for us once again after Shikshak began to co-publish the magazine Niti-Bimarshsa. We had been constantly in touch with him up until the time he was admitted to hospital. He was not meeting people during the pandemic, but I visited him with a copy of Niti-Bimarshsa.Nepal has signed the ambitious Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) project with China, and the US Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) grant has been ratified by Parliament. Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi is in Nepal, Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba is going to New Delhi soon, and a US delegation arrives next month.To make sense of this new geopolitical Great Game churning in our neighbourhood, we would have relied on Dhruba Kumar to explain what the real implications for Nepal would be. Nepal has now edged closer to the United States, the other global power that China is suspicious of. We must win China’s trust, while keeping a balance with India. The Russian invasion of Ukraine is a lesson of what can happen if we lose that balance. What is Nepal's relationship with China? How do we maintain cordial relations with both neighbours, while keeping both at arms length? And what should the basis of Nepal’s foreign policy be in the context of the Ukraine-Russia war?As journalists, those are questions we would have posed to Dhurba Kumar if we were trying to make sense of the region today. In fact, we did send him an email recently asking for an interview, but there was no answer. We then went to his house, and found out that he was not well. I cannot see anyone else in Nepal’s academia today that can make the kind of sharp dissection of current affairs and security matters like Dhruba Kumar did. That is not to say that there are no other analysts, but none come close to doing justice to the issues like he did.The demise of Nepal's foremost analyst of political and security issues  leaves a big void not just for us journalists, but also as a researcher and adviser to Nepal’s foreign policy establishment. There is a vacancy for the post Dhruba Kumar has left.Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original in <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://himalkhabar.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1648281701876000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0POzKUeeR0wZ4JHUWmuVAV">himalkhabar.com</a>

Nepal loses its foremost security analyst

<figure><img width="720" height="480" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a179c7e80680e0b5580jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Paul Farmer visiting Bayalpata Hospital in Achham run by Nyaya Health Nepal on its third anniversary in 2012. Photo: DEEPAK BISTA/NHN</figcaption></figure>When we were in 11th grade, my friends and I wanted to bring healthcare services to an impoverished village near Pokhara, my hometown. The best solution we could imagine was what is colloquially called a ‘health camp’: show up in a village with a doctor and some medications, go through hundreds of patients in a few hours, and leave.  We believed that since doctors and medications were expensive, and the poor could not pay, a health camp was the best we could do. In college, my anthropology professor introduced me to the <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2000/07/10/the-good-doctor" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2000/07/10/the-good-doctor&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3b9WqU9uyWoWQXT8nuhnk4">work</a> and writings of the physician and medical anthropologist Paul Farmer, who described relegating the poor to such meager services as, quite simply, a ‘failure of imagination’. His influence transformed my thinking regarding the most vexing problems in global health: the poor are not to blame for their economic condition and its attendant health challenges. Rather, the blame falls on our collective lack of imagination, which is rooted in, to borrow another phrase from Paul, ‘the idea that some lives matter less’. And that is how Paul began to live in my mind, as he did for thousands of others interested in healthcare.  Paul provided the requisite vocabulary to make sense of deep inequities, and he inspired with his actions. He and his team at the non-profit, Partners in Health, have brought life-saving healthcare services to indigent populations by supporting 230 healthcare facilities in 12 countries.  His work inspired me to go to medical school and co-found the non-profit organization <a href="https://possiblehealth.org/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://possiblehealth.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0lctDu7mtRSz9-LxQCCK2B">Possible</a> with other like-minded medical students, all of us committed to expanding high quality healthcare in rural Nepal.  We had no track record, credibility, or adequate funding but Paul supported us. Graciously, he joined our Board, advised and mentored us, helped make connections, and let us leverage his credibility to raise funds. On the Partners in Health website, he <a href="https://www.pih.org/pages/mission-partners-supported-projects" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.pih.org/pages/mission-partners-supported-projects&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0QSINhU0jOZ6rB98WFGhQo">included Possible</a> as an organisation expanding the mission for high quality care for the poor.  He shared his expansive platform by including <a href="https://www.pih.org/article/mental-health-in-nepal" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.pih.org/article/mental-health-in-nepal&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3_FbKTKhT2o1BEL7JLC2RV">Possible’s work</a> alongside his. His generosity could have cut into his own fundraising efforts, but he always rejected the belief that the pie is small, and we should fight over it. He inspired us to fight for a bigger pie, and he willed that world into existence. Back in Nepal, we began with a small clinic in Achham, where 250,000 people had no access to even a single doctor. We faced many detractors, and sometimes we doubted ourselves. But his words, spoken clearly and earnestly, helped us form our moral compass and inspired a determination that would not countenance failure.  Because more funding was available for HIV programs, many advised us to open an HIV clinic, but we knew that Achham needed comprehensive services beyond strictly HIV care. Well-meaning supporters lamented, sounding much as my friends and I had in high school, that the best we could do was a series of health camps. Surely, they fretted, there was no money for anything long-term.  People seemed to have an unspoken collective agreement that when it comes to serving the poor, there are not enough resources. Paul had a phrase to describe this social myth: ‘socialisation for scarcity’. The reality is, he taught, there are enough resources in the world to provide high-quality health services to every poor person, but we fail to make this a reality. We back away from this challenge, simply because we assume it is not possible.  A well-wisher suggested that we build something in Kathmandu rather than in rural Nepal because people in Kathmandu can pay for services. This time, we thought of another phrase that Paul popularised as a reminder that the system needs to be built to serve those with the greatest needs. He called this ‘a preferential option for the poor’.  In 2009, we established <a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2daT7Rc6LOR2LKA2EjC2hS">Nyaya Health Nepal</a>, a Nepal-based sister organisation to Possible, and collaborated with the Nepal government to expand to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17650#.YhaPTejMKPo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D17650%23.YhaPTejMKPo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874284000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3m5v35ikDhKesjhvT5U0Tp">Bayalpata Hospital</a>. In 2012, Paul <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2012/06/22/dr-farmer-comes-to-nepal/?fbclid=IwAR2CfOIxGCHSF4JfjKrloDWHXpBJfI9sZLjtj88cWvajfHhPs9si9iCa7Tk" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2012/06/22/dr-farmer-comes-to-nepal/?fbclid%3DIwAR2CfOIxGCHSF4JfjKrloDWHXpBJfI9sZLjtj88cWvajfHhPs9si9iCa7Tk&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw201XBVs_ztoxyj50hJZze8">visited Bayalpata</a>, rounding on patients with the local clinicians, teaching and inspiring with his intellect and humor. He expressed genuine admiration towards the healthcare workers living and serving in rural Nepal.  He somehow managed to express more gratitude than he received, in a way most people would not expect from someone with his level of accomplishment. After the 2015 earthquake, our team expanded to Dolakha, and at its peak, was overseeing three permanent hospitals with 350 staff: a long way from sporadic health camps. A few years ago, I was in a small global health conference and we were waiting for Paul Farmer to speak. As most busy speakers do, we expected him to sweep in, give a talk, and jet off to the next event. I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Paul. I was surprised to see him with the audience. We hugged. He asked me how I was doing and wanted to know how he could help with our work in Nepal. I thanked him for having highlighted the importance of mental health in high-profile global health meetings.  He thanked me for working in mental health, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Neglect-of-the-neglected,3157" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Neglect-of-the-neglected,3157&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0auYYYnEoYwjjdnKwxAe0y">a persistently ignored area</a>. He then walked around the room, surprising and personally checking in with several people who were working in different parts of the world. Later, the organisers told me that Paul had asked for the list of attendees so he could check in with the people he knew were doing similar work in global health.  He did not need to do any of this. He had a way of being present with you, listening, inspiring, and building solidarity for his commitment to the most vulnerable. On 21 February, 2022, Paul passed away in his sleep in Rwanda, where he had been teaching and seeing patients at the University of Global Health Equity, a <a href="https://ughe.org/the-story-behind-the-university" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://ughe.org/the-story-behind-the-university&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2OnM0VBt6sfqmNWZknDP__">world-class university</a> that he helped to establish. He was 62. He left behind three children and his wife, Didi Bertrand Farmer, a medical anthropologist from Haiti.  As Bill Gates <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2022/02/paul-farmer-obituary-bill-gates/622876" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2022/02/paul-farmer-obituary-bill-gates/622876&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2pWB2FnOg2yFeVjuBWHH4X">wrote recently</a>, the void Paul left cannot be filled by anyone. But I know that although he is gone, his work will continue through how he influenced us, through his incisive writing and inspiring legacy. He will continue to live in my mind, urging us not to succumb to failures of imagination, and instead to fight against socialisation for scarcity to boldly build a preferential option for the poor.Bibhav Acharya, MD is a psychiatrist, an Associate Professor at University of California San Francisco, and co-founder of <a href="https://possiblehealth.org/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://possiblehealth.org/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2uxxH-GIR4y6Vtn4zPKdmr">Possible</a>, a nonprofit organization that has been working to improve health care in Nepal since 2007.<a href="https://twitter.com/BibhavAcharya" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/BibhavAcharya&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1645761874285000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2b7VkvX7y7Myrrsnt6EM7o">@BibhavAcharya</a> <img width="77" height="109" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/63720a199c7e80680e0b5581jpeg.jpg" alt="">Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/at-the-covid-19-frontlines-in-rural-nepal/"> At the Covid frontlines in rural Nepal</a>, Priti Thapa

Paul Farmer on my mind

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcf99c7e80680e0a0bbajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2212" height="1368"/><figcaption>RajKumar Shakya with a model of the Bhairab under construction at the southern edge of kathmandu. Photo: NEPAL ART VILLAGE</figcaption></figure>Raj Kumar Shakya who died of Covid-related complications in June at age 54 was <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15838&amp;fbclid=IwAR08cUD5kjOEeKVekuAE_IXLtXzZbV--CuvbZzBPksyH9KeKN_tS2-ta3xY#.YRXm0S8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the world’s foremost repoussé sculptors</a>, excelling in the craft of preserving traditonal methods of forging malleable metal sheets into devotional art objectsHaving met, known, and worked with Raj Kumar for nearly three decades, his short life is a lesson on what it takes to be a successful artist. This was a tragic loss to Nepal, and to the world, where his work is on display from Bhutan to Japan, from Shanghai to Munich.Raj Kumar was passionate about his art and craft, and set big goals. When it came to any assignment, no matter what the size or scale, Raj Kumar knew he could do it. He came across as supremely confident about his abilities, and there were few tasks that he could not fulfil.But he was also realistic, and knew his own capacity. However, he was always eager to take it to the next level to test his own limits. The colossal statue of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/nepali-craftsmen-build-biggest-padmasambhavan-statue-in-bhutan?fbclid=IwAR0Gq5QRh25Gb3biTmwiBC0dLt5WhMX9fl4CVhtIp_L2Tm5Z0n9Ya58qvzo" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Guru Padmasambhava that Raj Kumar built in Bumthang of Bhutan</a> will stand as a testament to his talent as an artist and, yes, even his engineering and logistical expertise.Comparable in size and scope to the Statue of Liberty in New York, the Padmasambhava in Bhutan is also made from the repoussé method that Raj Kumar had perfected and scaled up during his short working life.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/rebuilding-temples-a-chance-to-creat-jobs-and-to-revive-woodcarving-industry%20,2347">Carving out a niche</a>, Sonia Awale<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcfc9c7e80680e0a0bbbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Raj Kumar succeeded because he had the passion, and he believed in himself. The time and effort it took to craft each of the masterpieces the artist has gifted to the world did not matter to him, because he loved what he did. He was dedicated to promoting and preserving the repoussé art form, and all the skills and techniques that went with it. The most important lesson of his life is that we must not be afraid to set big goals.Raj Kumar’s art did not exist in a vacuum. He was rooted in the community, and articulated his craft through traditional art of the Kathmandu Valley. He learnt from countries like South Korea and Japan that in any major project, human resource is the most valuable -- and the biggest variable.Therefore, he was always on the lookout for skilled people like himself, or <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/modern-day-arniko/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">young passionate artisans </a>whom he knew he could train. He inducted them into his team and then painstakingly and generously shared his knowledges and skills with them.For this, he knew trust was essential. It was this mutual trust that he was able to expand his work into the larger community, and the community reciprocated that trust and respect. Raj Kumar was always at the forefront, engaged in many community events, speaking there about the need to preserve tradition. He spoke clearly and persuasively, putting out his ideas as any good communicator.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/coming-out-of-the-woodwork/">Coming out of the woodwork</a>, Kunda DixitRaj Kumar Shakya was also a mentor, and this is his most important legacy – ensuring that his knowledge and skills were passed on to the next generation. He was worried that there were too few families left in Kathmandu carrying on the repoussé tradition. <figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfcfe9c7e80680e0a0bbcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is Raj Kumar’s efforts in the past 30 years that has revived the skills and talent not just to Patan, but to Nepal and beyond to the world.A whole new generation of successful artists in Patan have benefitted from working with Raj Kumar, where they started from scratch, making mistakes and learning along the way, under the watchful eyes of the master.As more and more work was generated, more young people returned to their <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/featured-videos/out-with-the-old-in-with-the-new/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">traditional craftmanship</a>. With economic growth in Asia and greater understanding of Buddhism and its significance, the demand for these skills will grow.Raj Kumar understood and applied science, technology and geometry to his work. The ability to open minds to new and relevant information, new tools, and techniques and to constantly be learning are the key characteristics of a successful person.Raj Kumar was one of the early users of computers in his work, employing CAD and mixing the latest technology to refine traditional craftsmanship. He insisted that his colleagues and protégé learn the science, be good with numbers – and he practiced what he taught.He could generate 3-D computer models of whatever he was working on, and use these perspectives also to teach. He felt that art made without perfect mathematical proportions did not do well in the market. This ability and dedication to combine the best of modern applied science with traditional art is what made his creations so successful. And once his work was scaled to large sculptures, these architectural and engineering calculations mattered more than ever.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141128/636cfd019c7e80680e0a0bbdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="473" height="577"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Most artists do not know much about business, and some are even proud of the fact. The history of art is replete with geniuses who died paupers, and whose works today fetch millions of dollars in auctions.Not Raj Kumar. He was a good businessman, with a sense of the art market and knew how to promote his work. He had built a large network of suppliers, shippers and skilled workers who he could mobilise. He was good at raising money for large work, and sometimes invested his own earnings well – and this allowed his firm (<a href="http://onmetalart.com/menu/view/21" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">On Metal</a>) to expand. Many artists and smaller businesses benefitted from On Metal contracts.After finishing his famous Bhutan statue in Bhutan, Raj Kumar was working on other large orders when he died: a large Buddha statue in Lumbini, restoration work at Mahabouddha, and he had taken up his dream project of putting up the largest and tallest mask of the Bhairab at the southern edge of the Kathmandu Valley in the <a href="https://www.nepalartvillage.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal Art Village</a> (NAV).If we really want to honour the legacy of Raj Kumar Shakya, his life and work this project must be completed. Fortunately, he leaves behind a new crop of traditional artists to carry on his work.Read also:  <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=37788&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Crafting a heritage,</a> Shriluna Shrestha

Anil Chitrakar

Rajkumar Shakya, 1967-2021

<figure><img width="1142" height="787" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111128/636cd31d9c7e80680e08f94ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Manoj Basnyat in his New York office with MP Man Bahadur Gurung (left) and Hum Gurung (right) in 2014.</figcaption></figure>To be posted in regions of political instability seems to have been the calling of Manoj Basnyat’s life. As a United Nations representative, he was sent to all the major hotspots: Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Ukraine.After serving the UN in Nepal from 1994-99 he left just as the country itself was turning into a hotspot. Manoj travelled and lived as a citizen of the world, working for the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) for more than 27 years.He died in New York on 12 January, his sudden demise leaving his friends, colleagues and relatives, in shock. Many will remember him for being a catalyst for conservation in Nepal, and for development and peace-building around the world. He changed many lives for the better, and inspired a new generation of those working to balance economic progress and ecological protection.  As Assistant Resident Representative of UNDP in Kathmandu, Manoj’s focus was on governance, infrastructure and natural resources. He believed in the Japanese way of nemawashi 根回し, an informal process of convincing and gaining the support of communities for positive change. He used this approach for change, wherever he went. <img width="536" height="586" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111132/636cd3209c7e80680e08f94fjpeg.jpg" alt="">As a conservationist trying to convince communities to take ownership and participate, Manoj's mentorship in Nepal was a lifelong gift for me. He was generous with sharing practical tips on communicating with politicians and bureaucrats, which is perhaps one of the most essential skills at senior management positions. For many like me he was a role model ‘adviser’, with the ability to influence decision-makers, thereby impacting policies at all levels. The relationship he maintained with senior politicians in Kathmandu ran a parallel at the grassroots. He maintained excellent relations with village leaders, locally elected representatives and listened to them intently during meetings, which made them seek his advice on major development activities.My connection with Manoj Basnyat started in December 1996 when I joined UNDP in Kathmandu as Senior Policy Adviser. It was impossible to not be touched by Manoj Basnyat’s optimism and can-do attitude. <figure><img width="2032" height="1337" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111132/636cd3249c7e80680e08f950jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>UNDP Resident Representative to Nepal Carroll Long on a field visit to Butwal in 1996 with Manoj Basnyat.</figcaption></figure>He took this positive, practical approach to ideas and their execution to the countries he was assigned to for UNDP. Between 2001-2005, Manoj was the Deputy Resident Representative of UNDP in the Ukraine and assisted in the delivery of development assistance as its Country Programme Director. His fluency in Russian helped him in his Eastern Europe postings.Prior to that, he served as the Policy Specialist and Deputy Regional Manager for the Sub-regional Resource Facility in UNDP’s Regional Center in Bratislava (1999 – 2001). This was a crucial time to be in Slovakia, as the country was having presidential elections  for the first time following a constitutional amendment in 1998.He also served with UNDP’s Regional Centre in Colombo from 2005– 2006 at a time of the fiercest fighting between the Sri Lankan military and Tamil separatists. He went on to Dhaka to serve as UNDP Resident Coordinator from 2006 to 2008, planning and delivering strategies built around successful partnerships.Then, it was to another hotspot: Afghanistan, where he served as UNDP’s Country Director (2008-2012), working to help the country recover from decades of war. Attacks were frequent, and Manoj had to often duck into bunker safe rooms in between meetings about development projects. <figure><img width="636" height="420" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111132/636cd3279c7e80680e08f951jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Former President of Afghanistan Professor Rabbani and Minister Masoom Stanikzai with Manoj Basnyat in Kabul.</figcaption></figure>From his childhood at St Xavier's School in Kathmandu to college at the Kuban State Technological University in Russia where he did his science Masters, Manoj lived like an explorer—of life and places. He went on to attend Universität Dortmund in Germany to do a post-graduate in Regional Development Planning and Management. He also spent time at the Asian Institute of Technology in  Thailand and the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard where he did a degree in leadership. My last meeting with Manoj was in September 2014 at his office in New York in the company of our acquaintance Man Bahadur Gurung, the erstwhile Chair of the Conservation Area Management Committee of Parche in Kaski. The Gurung community from Sikles had just won the internationally renowned UNDP Equator Prize for nature conservation and sustainable local development.  We presented Manoj with the coffee table book, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18160#.YAj4BnYzaUk" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D18160%23.YAj4BnYzaUk&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1611287597946000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGiA5owFh8gA6yJm9O6poulRIDe9w">Our Village, Our Life: Sikles in Focus</a>, by  Sara Parker. As he flipped through the pages of the book, he said: “I really miss our mountains and plains, our new forests, and the hopes and potentials of rural Nepal.”  Hum Gurung, PhD, is Regional Project Manager for BirdLife International-led Forest Governance in Southeast Asia and Pacific.

A Nepali on a UN mission

On Tuesday, leader of the monarchist RPP once again gathered on Kathmandu’s streets to deliver fiery speeches, but this time there was no arson and looting and no need for riot police to fire live rounds or tear gas.
RPP leaders demanded the release of their members including vice-president Rabindra Mishra and MP Dhawal Shamsher Rana were arrested during the violent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">28 March protests at Tinkune </a>which left two dead. 
They denounced the current leadership of the main parties, demanding the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/nepal-party-reincarnating-hindu-monarchy">restitution of Nepal as a Hindu kingdom</a>. They also said the government was responsible for the fatalities on 28 March because it provoked its rally with a tear gas attack even before it started.
It has now been revealed that the police fired at least 100 live rounds from high powered assault rifles at the crowd. Twenty-one of the 120 injured received bullet wounds, and most of them were bystanders and people trying to reach home. 
Tuesday protest on the Ring Road in Balkhu was much more subdued, and comparatively fewer RPP supporters showed up. The arson and vandalism in the previous protest appears to have cost some support for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-ghost-of-monarchy-returns-to-haunt-nepal">former king Gyanendra </a>especially for the anointment of medical tycoon and bank defaulter <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/street-politics">Durga Prasai </a>as ‘commander’ of the Tinkune rally.
Some monarchists acknowledge Gyanendra’s mistakes when was king 2001-2008, but say he has had a lot of time to reflect on his shortcomings and seems more disciplined and committed. His supporters have tried to build on nostalgia among some Nepalis for<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-invest-in-nepal"> domestic stability </a>and international respect that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">the monarchy</a> commanded. 
“Nepalis were promised better service delivery, opportunities for the underserved, as well as better, more honest use of state resources, but the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16992">people in leadership </a>have not been able to deliver on their commitments,” says RPP leader Prakash Chandra Lohani. “The gap between their rhetoric and reality has widened, the people feel betrayed, and the respect Nepali people had previously had for them has changed to revulsion.” 
Indeed, many commentators have warned the three main parties and their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/politics-as-usual">serial prime ministers</a> who have ruled Nepal for much of the past 30 years should address rising public anger with them, and see the writing on the wall.
‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-government-changes-again">The UML, NC and Maoists</a> must introspect about their conduct,” warns Gunaraj Luitel, editor of Nagarik, in an op-ed this week. ‘These leaders for life may save themselves from simmering public anger, but they will not be able to save the system. The monarchist wave can only be dispelled when citizens are assured of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people">better governance</a> through <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/real-world-training-for-youth-leaders">younger leaders</a>, and reforms.’ 
Rifts between radical royals who are gunning for a return to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">Panchayat-style absolutism </a>and moderate monarchists who favour a constitutional king have also weakened the movement somewhat. The split between the RPP and RPP-Nepal cost the royalists numbers in Parliament in 2022, and both parties denounced the violence last month, albeit shifting the blame on the government.
The irony is that the same royalists who want to scrap the republican Constitution had formed electoral alliances with the UML during the 2022 elections. RPP-Nepal chair Kamal Thapa contested the 2022 election with the UML. Thapa has not taken part in the last two rallies, saying he will only be a part of a movement under a national flag, and not a RPP party banner.
For his part, the RPP’s Rajendra Lingden is said to be hesitant to censure some of his party’s more radical royalists for fear of fissure within his ranks, despite his aversion to Durga Prasai’s role. 
Analysts have questioned why <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/old-is-still-gold-in-nepali-politics">supporters of the monarchy </a>have decided to reestablish an institution that would not ultimately have executive decision-making power. There are doubts about whether authoritarian-minded Gyanendra will be satisfied being a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13957">ceremonial king</a>. 
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-deja-vu-on-black-friday">Nepal’s déjà vu on Black Friday</a>, Sonia Awale
"The Nepali people will not accept <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/forgotten-woman-who-sheltered-communist-activists">an absolute monarchy </a>at this point of time, and both the public as well as <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8371">king Gyanendra</a> are fully aware that there is no other possibility beyond a constitutional monarchy," asserts the RPP’s Lohani. “The traditional monarchy’s institutional capacity might have been enough to meet the needs of feudal Nepal, but an absolute monarchy is impossible both in concept and practice in the context of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Economic-Class/waiting-for-an-industrial-revolution,784">modern day Nepal</a>.”

New year revolutions

Besides multiple <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/republicans-and-royalists-on-nepal-s-streets">street demonstrations </a>that gridlocked Kathmandu’s traffic for the past weeks, public discourse in Nepal has also been dominated by dangerously <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/air-pollution-is-more-dangerous-than-smoking">high air pollution levels</a>. Caused mostly by hundreds of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/wildfire-season-starts-early-in-nepal">forest fires </a>raging across the country, the smoke contains suspended soot particles that harms <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/playing-with-poison">human health</a>. Thursday’s rain have cleared the air somewhat, and many people will soon forget how bad the air quality was. But the time to address the roots of next summer’s fire season is now.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250411060440_d1a119716a9031aadfdd611d299348d436842d376a03e664b8d773957a237524.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250411060440_d1a119716a9031aadfdd611d299348d436842d376a03e664b8d773957a237524" data-rendition-name="original" width="502" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Wildfires"> <figcaption>EXTINGUISHED: Forest fires raging all over Nepal in the week after 3 March (above) reduced air quality, creating a public health hazard in Kathmandu and across the country. Each red dot is a fire detected by infrared sensors on the NASA Fire Information for Resource Management System (FIRMS) satellite. But the rain on Thursday doused most of the fires (below) with more rain forecast over the weekend.</figcaption> </figure>  The reason everyone was talking about air pollution was because the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-is-going-up-in-smoke"> smoke from wildfires</a> was visible. But much more toxic are the invisible and odourless <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-doubles-its-carbon-footprint">gases from vehicular and industrial emissions </a>which have always been there. The theme of World Health Day on 7 April this week was ‘Healthy Beginnings, Hopeful Futures’ dedicated to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/saving-more-mothers-and-babies">preventing maternal and newborn deaths</a>. It is estimated that in Nepal, 30% of neonatal mortality can be blamed on air pollution. But that is only part of the story. Harmful as fine particulate matter is to human health, carbon monoxide, nitrogen dioxide, ground-level ozone and other gases in vehicular emissions are more hazardous to health. While the concentration of suspended particulate matter tinier than 1.5 microns (PM2.5) is closely monitored, these toxic gases are invisible, not measured much, and the public is not aware about the dangers they pose. Surface ozone is produced by the interaction of various gases found when <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/fossil-fuels-poison-air">burning fossil fuels</a>. Besides being poisonous, ground level ozone contributes up to 0.23°C to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">global warming</a> because it is also a greenhouse gas. A new policy brief by the Clean Air Fund titled The Case for Action on Tropospheric Ozone blames surface ozone for a half a million premature deaths every year, 54.8% of which are in South Asia. Ozone also stunts plant growth and reduces crop yields by 26% globally, and 11% loss in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/economic-benefits-of-saving-the-ecology">forest productivity</a>, the report adds.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250411060456_aa02a923f8b27544ae54d0220162678f5bbb5eeb8fc3c466173c22c49b3e9a85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250411060456_aa02a923f8b27544ae54d0220162678f5bbb5eeb8fc3c466173c22c49b3e9a85" data-rendition-name="original" width="998" height="724" loading="lazy" alt="Gas Chambers"> </figure>  Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bad-air-and-polluted-politics">Bad air and polluted politics</a>, Sonia Awale Ground-level ozone is not emitted directly into the air like other gases, but is formed when oxides of nitrogen (NOx), carbon monoxide (CO) and volatile organic compounds (VOCs) released from automobile tailpipes or industry smokestacks react chemically with each other in the presence of sunlight. The main source of carbon monoxide in Kathmandu Valley are its 1.2 million two-wheelers. “Usually the concentration of carbon monoxide is 200-500 parts per billion (ppb), this has increased up to 3,000 in Kathmandu. Meanwhile, ground-level ozone has gone from 70-80 ppb to 150 ppb,” says Ravi Sahu, regional air quality specialist with the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).&nbsp; Sahu says <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/no-smoke-without-fire-p7vb9dcj">rampant forest fires of the past weeks</a> have also added to carbon monoxide and ozone in the air, not just the fine particles that make up the visible smoke. He adds, “There isn’t much awareness about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/poisoning-the-air-we-breathe">ground-level ozone and carbon monoxide</a>, we need to urgently look into it.” A distinction must be made between good and bad ozone. Stratospheric ozone protects living beings from harmful ultraviolet (UV) radiation from the sun.&nbsp; Tropospheric ozone can again be separated into two types: ozone in the free atmosphere which is a greenhouse gas much more potent than carbon dioxide, and ground-level ozone which has adverse impacts on health and agriculture. ‘Cutting tropospheric ozone presents a unique challenge as it requires smart and fast action across multiple greenhouse gases and air pollutants, as well as multiple economic sectors,’ notes the Clean Air Fund's policy briefing. ‘It is a growing and neglected problem that needs an integrated approach on both a local and global level to tackle climate change and air pollution together.’ Dying young There was a time when Nepal made it to international news bulletins only if there were fatalities on Mt Everest. Now, Kathmandu’s bad air frequently makes headlines all over the world. This past week, the concentration of PM2.5 that harms human health was up to 40 times the WHO recommended guideline — adding to the poisonous gases already present from vehicle emissions. The Department of Environment says 40% of the pollution in the past weeks was from wildfires sparked by nearly 6 months without substantial rain over central Nepal. Most of the rest is from vehicular and industrial emissions from Kathmandu itself and across the southern border. NASA’s Fire Information and Resource Management System (FIRMS) which issues daily maps of fires, showed hundreds of blazes raging across Nepal on Wednesday, mainly in Chitwan, Parsa and along the East-West Highway.&nbsp; “If we look at the figures for the last few years, it is clear that wildfires have become the biggest source of air pollution, they are seasonal but have overtaken vehicular emissions,” says urban planner and environmentalist Bhushan Tuladhar. “Forest fires, stubble burning, and open burning of garbage are the bigger problems now. Nepal, India, Bangladesh, and Pakistan are at risk every year, we shouldn’t further delay in finding solutions,” warned air quality expert Bhupendra Das during an event on air pollution organised on 7 March by the Nepal Forum of Environmental Journalists (NEFEJ).&nbsp; Indeed, studies have shown that in winter 60% of the air pollution over Kathmandu is transboundary from the south, and in November it is compounded by smoke from crop residue burning by farmers in India and Pakistan blown in by prevailing winds. Forest fires are a regular pre-monsoon occurrence in Nepal, often intentionally set by farmers and herders to stimulate new grass growth for livestock. Winter rains have failed for eight of the past ten years, and this means the fires often spread out of control. The other reason for the increase in wildfires is the doubling of forest fires to 46% of the country’s area in the past 25 years. But this has happened simultaneously with outmigration, with some mountain districts losing 30% of their population between 2011-2021. With less pressure on forests for fodder and firewood, the undergrowth of community forests is loaded with dry fuel just waiting for a spark. The bowl-shaped topography of Kathmandu, Pokhara and other valleys further concentrates pollutants as they are trapped by surrounding mountains. But a year with a high number of wildfires is usually followed by a year or two with fewer incidents. For example: there were 6,537 fires in 2021 but the following year the number was down to 1,528. There were 5,216 fires last year, this year the number has already reached 1,800, and the trend is likely to be broken. Heavy rains forecast for the coming days are expected to douse some of the fires and clean up the air. But the damage has been done: Kathmandu residents of all age groups this week crowded clinics and hospitals with burning eyes, itchy throats, difficulty breathing, headaches, and dizziness. But in the longer term, soot particles that are tiny enough to jump the blood-air divide in lung capillaries do not just cause Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), asthma, but also cancers, heart attacks, strokes, birth defects and other chronic diseases. The latest Air Quality Life Index (AQLI) report by the University of Chicago shows that the annual concentration of PM2.5 in Kathmandu’s air rose from 17.87µg/m3 in 1998 to 31.33µg/m3 in 2022. Air pollution has got worse by 75% in Kathmandu in 25 years. During this time, air pollution has reduced the average life expectancy of Kathmandu’s residents by 3.5 years. According to the Health Effects Institute in Boston, dirty air is among the biggest public health concerns in Nepal killing over 42,100 a year. The adverse impact of high levels of air pollution is not limited to public health, it is seriously affecting tourism. Operators in Pokhara this week said that there were many negative online posts by visitors unable to see the famous panorama of Machapuchre and the Annapurnas even from Sarangkot. Aviation is also affected, as planes have to circle sometimes for hours burning a lot of fuel because of runway visibility being below minima at Kathmandu airport. The higher fuel cost is just passed down to customers, making air tickets in and out of Kathmandu some of the highest in the world. Kathmandu, with a population of four million, has not implemented a concrete policy to curb toxic air despite having formulated various action plans and repeated commitments by the government to protect the environment and control air pollution. The Department of Environment’s 2017 Air Quality Management Action Plan for Kathmandu put forward a policy to reduce air pollution caused by vehicles which was approved by the Cabinet, but has yet to be put to practice. The action included the immediate implementation of the Euro 5 emission standard to reduce pollution emitted by vehicles. However, Nepal has not even been able to implement Euro 4 standards so far. India, meanwhile, has already moved forward with the implementation of the Euro 6 standards. Says Ravi Sahu: “Air pollution in Nepal is not just about air pollution, it has ties to tourism, aviation, the economy so we must be prepared for annual conditions like forest fires, and this requires urgent interdisciplinary collaboration.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250411050452_821d09e283d8a590f1369bfb71b9b7fc6d950726e0651ea86c6488d04deb1742.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250411050452_821d09e283d8a590f1369bfb71b9b7fc6d950726e0651ea86c6488d04deb1742" data-rendition-name="original" width="839" height="784" loading="lazy" alt="Silent Killers"> </figure>  &nbsp;

What is invisible is more dangerous

82 in २०८२

Here in the mountains of far-western Nepal, the biggest threat to life and limb is gravity. Women collecting fodder fall from trees, boys grazing goats fall off cliffs, heavily loaded tractors plunge from dirt roads carved out of steep slopes. There is nothing to be done about those who die on the spot. But for the severely wounded there is only one hospital: Bayalpata. And it is there that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJzWlnYd0ZM&amp;t=8s" target="_blank">orthopaedic surgeon Mandeep Pathak</a> is the last hope for many wounded people. Pathak, 42, is too modest to tell us how many lives he has saved over the past 10 years he has worked at Bayalpata. But hospital records show he has performed more than 4,000 operations in the past decade, many of them so patients did not suffer permanent physical disabilities. Pathak also did 800 major life-saving surgeries in that time. “I treat patients with injuries, but I wish I could also treat poverty,” Pathak says, emerging from Bayalpata’s surgical theatre one recent afternoon. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="700" height="415" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CJzWlnYd0ZM?si=s_rkbU4YDaw87gqH" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> Sudurpaschim Province in Nepal’s far-west is far away from everything: from Kathmandu, from adequate medical care, from food security, and far from the reach of government services. It has suffered state neglect for centuries, its men mainly migrating to India for seasonal work to families who depend on subsistence agriculture. Pathak remembers the searing sadness he felt when a patient once told him, “Doctor, I sold the last of my rice to pay to come here, please give me a medicine that I can take on an empty stomach.” Pathak was born in Kathmandu, and after getting his MBBS from Kathmandu University, he got an MD from The Philippines. At a time when many Nepali doctors and staff nurses were emigrating, Pathak did not just return to Kathmandu but decided to go to one of the remotest districts in Nepal to serve those most in need. The hospital was established in 2009 in the village of Bayalpata, and has been managed by the non-profit <a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN)</a> as a public-private partnership treating 100,000 patients a year for no fees at all. NHN is now preparing to hand over the running of the hospital to the Sudurpaschim provincial government so its <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health" target="_blank">model of hospital management</a> can be replicated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250414130456_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250414130456_b59dabd4604a24426a55fe91c0e5866b5029858bdb4c4028c331557aeb5408ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bayalpata hospital"> <figcaption>Bayalpata hospital in Achham.</figcaption> </figure>  People from not just Achham but surrounding districts, and from as far away as Humla, bring patients to Bayalpata, sometimes walking for days. Some with complicated pregnancies are brought in stretchers, young children with broken arms walk into the emergency, and sometimes there are mass casualties when a tractor or bus falls off a road. And Pathak is always there with his team performing triage, and doing orthopaedic surgeries that would be difficult even in Kathmandu. Recently, his team did a hip replacement at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital</a>. Mild mannered, modest, soft-spoken, hard-working, professional are the words families of patients who have been treated at <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-rural-lifeline" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital </a>use to describe Mandeep Pathak. But the surgeon is too busy to let all this get to this head.&nbsp; Asked why he does not emigrate like his peers or get a lucrative position at a private hospital in Kathmandu, Pathak answers simply, without a trace of self-importance, “I do not think I could get the satisfaction or sense of fulfilment anywhere else.” When travelling to attend medical congresses overseas or visit family in Kathmandu, Bayalpata has other doctors to take care of patients, but many wait patiently till Pathak returns for their consultation or surgery.&nbsp; When he returns from seminars abroad after learning the latest skills, Pathak’s suitcases are not full of clothes or presents, but titanium bone implants, external fixation rods, or intramedullary nails to be used in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/altruistic-healthcare-models-in-nepal" target="_blank">surgeries at Bayalpata</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025041414040_5356278472c1eb2b9e4af1d593d6234cc8dc5e5161a8c614197c01abefadbd80.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025041414040_5356278472c1eb2b9e4af1d593d6234cc8dc5e5161a8c614197c01abefadbd80" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1368" loading="lazy" alt="surgery"> </figure>  Before Bayalpata Hospital was established, most people suffering broken bones had to travel down to Dhangadi or Nepalganj for treatment. No more. Although Pathak’s specialisation is orthopaedic oncology, he is mostly treating fractures and rejoining broken bones.&nbsp; Now as Bayalpata’s Hospital Director, Pathak also has administrative and fundraising duties. He has to take the 10-hour ride down to Dhangadi often to meet various Sudurpaschim ministries to release the hospital’s budget — that is sometimes more difficult than the most complicated surgery. Recently, he had to cancel an appointment with the Chief Minister to rush back to Bayalpata because there was a patient who needed emergency surgery. “I told myself, let me save this patient first, then I will try to save the hospital,” he recalls.&nbsp; Once, when he had to be away for a month on emergency surgery training in the US, the family of a 90-year-old woman who had dislocated her hip after falling from a staircase was waiting for him to return. Her son told Pathak: “Doctor, either put her out of her suffering, or cure her.” Pathak told him it was too dangerous to operate at her age, but the son said his mother was in so much pain it was worth the risk. The operation was touch-and-go, but it was successful. The woman who had been brought in on a stretcher, walked out of the hospital three days after the operation.&nbsp; A few months later, a 27-year-old woman was brought into the ER bleeding profusely from an arm mangled by a thresher machine. Even in that state, she was breastfeeding her baby. Pathak welled up seeing this display of selfless motherhood, as he wheeled her into surgery. She needed three operations, but now has full use of her hand. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="700" height="415" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xJdxLD0hBqo?si=mOpM2R_DsYL88Lfg" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> It is the sense of achievement from such recovery that keeps Mandeep Pathak here in this isolated village in the middle of nowhere. Bayalpata Hospital has not just saved lives, it also saves families from poverty because they do not have to take sick relatives to expensive city hospitals.&nbsp; In January, a woman was brought to Bayalpata with both hands broken. She said she had taken a fall, but Pathak did not believe her. When alone in the surgery, she finally admitted that her husband had beaten her.&nbsp; It was her husband who had brought her to hospital for treatment, but she refused to file a police report. Pathak quietly put both her arms in casts, thinking about the poverty, patriarchy and injustice in society that he is unable to treat.

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