<figure><img width="1125" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14329c7e80680e0a9967jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Married at 15, Dhiru Bista has been either pregnant or lactating every year since. Of the 12 babies she gave birth to, only seven daughters are surviving. All photos: SRIJANA DEVKOTA</figcaption></figure>Dhiru Bista is only 35, but looks much older. She has had 12 pregnancies, and the last one was a stillbirth four months ago that nearly killed her due to a ruptured uterus and internal haemmorhage.The struggle of her hard life is etched on Bista’s face, as she recovers from her ordeal. But there she is, not resting in bed but spreading the rice and buckwheat harvest out to dry outside her small clay brick house in Babala village of remote Achham district. Her young daughters play nearby, some babysitting younger siblings.Because her husband is within earshot, she is reluctant to open up. Only when she is taken to a quiet corner, does she finally whisper: “If sharing my life’s story will help other Nepali women escape the same fate, let me tell you.” <figure><img width="1125" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14359c7e80680e0a9968jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Married at 15, Bista first got pregnant two years later. Every year since, she has been either pregnant or lactating. Of the 12 babies she has given birth to, only seven daughters are surviving. The oldest is now 16, the youngest 18 months. Two of her daughters died shortly after they were born, while the other two were aborted.“There was always pressure for a son and every time I gave birth to a daughter, people questioned my inability to give birth to a son. My husband does nothing to comfort me,” says Bista, who despite the hardships, has managed to send five of her girls to school.Here in the culturally conservative society of far-western Nepal where all development indicators like female literacy, maternal and infant mortality are much below the national average, Bista is just one among <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-will-save-nepals-poor-new-mothers/">many mothers with similar stories</a>.The preference for boys in the patriarchal culture means women are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/">married young</a>, and are stigmatised every time they give birth to daughters. Because they are so young and undernourished at childbirth, many die at home or while being carried on stretchers to hospital.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19596#.X4wTuNAzbIX">No time for school</a><a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/ending-child-marriage-in-Nepal,3864">Not just a social problem, but an economic one</a>, Elizabeth Hanna Satow <img width="1125" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d14399c7e80680e0a9969jpeg.jpg" alt="">Most women in rural Nepal still have no access to essential antenatal care during their pregnancy, resulting in grave complications at childbirth.“Her husband will most likely remarry now that she can’t get pregnant,” says a neighbour matter-of-factly.After she started getting contractions in her latest pregnancy in August, the neighbours carried her downhill for half-an-hour before they found a bus that could take her to Bayalpata Hospital. She was critical by the time she arrived at emergency, with dangerously low blood pressure.Her uterus had ruptured, and she had severe internal bleeding. The baby was in a transverse position with one of its hands sticking out of the cervix, already dead.The surgery took four hours, but Bayalpata’s doctors managed to save Dhiru Bista’s life. Fearing complications, the hospital referred her to the ICU in the district hospital in Dadeldhura, seven hours away. She was discharged five days later.Surgeons at Bayalpata said that this was one of the toughest maternity cases they have operated on. There have been 320 deliveries since the Covid-19 induced lockdown in April 2020, and all of them have been performed free of cost.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/bayalpata-hospital-in-nepal-wins-global-design-award/">Bayalpata is run as a public-private partnership by Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN)</a> with support from the Far-West Province, Sanfebagar Muncipality, and international funding. <figure><img width="1243" height="820" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d143c9c7e80680e0a996ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal/">Covid-19 pandemic has added to the already precarious healthcare</a> in these rugged mountains, as expecting mothers were unable to travel to health posts for regular check-ups. Institutional deliveries also dropped dramatically, which led to an increase in mother and infant mortality throughout the province.There have been cases of women giving birth while working in the fields, cutting the baby’s umbilical cord with their sickle, adding to the risk of tetanus infection for both new mothers and babies.Nepal has made <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/newborn-deaths-and-a-vision-for-a-post-pandemic-nepal/">rapid strides</a> in saving the lives of mothers and babies. The national average for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18359#.YZ9jmVVByJA">maternal mortality</a> rate has dropped from 539 per 100,000 live births 25 years ago to less than 186, in 2017. But maternal deaths are still high in districts like Achham, and even the national average has stagnated in the last three years.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/child-marriages-up-during-nepal-lockdown/">Child marriages up during lockdown</a>, Namrata Sharma<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/on-air-to-deter-child-marriage/">On air to deter child marriage</a>, Shapira Jha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/too-young-to-marry/">Too young to marry</a>, karuna Onta <figure><img width="1500" height="1125" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d143f9c7e80680e0a996bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bista’s neighbour has two daughters, one of whom is handicapped. Her in-laws are already looking to remarry their son because they want a grandson. The daughter-in-law is not allowed to mingle with anyone, and works in the fields all day. There is no one to feed her children and her in-laws do not care for the girls – the youngest of whom, only one-and-half years old, weighs just five kg. Every household here has at least one male member working in India, and it is the money they send home that allows the subsistence farmers to survive. But when there is an illness or pregnancy in the family many cannot even afford the bus fare to go to hospital. Dhiru Bista would have surely lost her life if it had not been for the emergency surgery at Bayalpata Hospital. The facility has treated more than 1 million patients from seven surrounding districts in the Far-West and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Karnali</a> Provinces since it was set up 15 years ago, and many of them are maternity cases. Treatment and medicines are all free, and the hospital could be a model for other hospitals in rural Nepal. New investment to upgrade health facilities in remote settings is necessary to further reduce the maternal mortality rate in districts like these. Next comes education for girls, so that people are made aware of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/can-nepal-end-child-marriage-by-2030/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the dangers of early marriage</a>. This would prevent <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-conceivable-reason-for-unwanted-pregnancies/">unnecessary pregnancies</a>, thus saving lives. With elections approaching political parties are once more promising jobs and prosperity. But unless the lives of Nepali women and children are protected, there is no need for jobs.<a href="http://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank" style="letter-spacing: 0.01em;" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nyaya Health Nepal</a>

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Saving one Nepali mother at a time

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58c19c7e80680e054852jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"/><figcaption>WELCOME TO THE WORLD: A child sleeps in a hammock while its parents work in a workshop making idols for the Dasain festival in Kupondol. Photo: GOPEN RAI</figcaption></figure>Giving birth is a life or death issue in Nepal. Even though the maternal mortality rate dropped from 1,000 per 100,000 live births 40 years ago to 239 today, inadequate birthing facilities is still a problem. But attention is now also shifting to preventing pregnancies.There is a big <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/">unmet need for contraceptives</a>: nearly a quarter of women surveyed nationwide in 2016 said they were not using birth control, even if they need it. Social stigma, patriarchy, ignorance and lack of access were reasons.Nepal’s contraceptive prevalence rate is 52%, but in remote Bajura it is only 34%. Although progress is being made, we are still a long way from the government’s target of raising the rate to 75% by 2030.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=33714&amp;preview_nonce=033aa12640&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal far from hitting contraceptive target,</a> Sewa BhattaraiAs our reports in this edition from Bajura and Chitwan show, there are cultural hurdles. With <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-males-and-population-decline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">husbands away working for long periods</a>, their wives are reluctant to use contraceptives because of what others will say. The result: women suffer unwanted pregnancies, <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841" target="_blank" rel="noopener">unsafe abortions</a> and ultimately struggle to take care of large families.Almost every woman who visited a hospital in Bajura on a busy day last month had the same story: their husbands were away and they did not use birth control. Some were suffering from botched abortions.More than 800 abortion cases were registered in Bajura last year. Just one hospital in Achham terminated more than 600 pregnancies in one year. Meanwhile, Nepal’s total fertility rate has dropped from 6 in 1960 to near-replacement level at 2.05 today, and the country’s population growth rate is also down from 2.5% in 1990 to 1.1% today. Surveys in Province 2 and Far-western Province have shown a clear correlation between unwanted pregnancies, child marriage and fertility in regions with entrenched patriarchy.Among Nepalis, 21% use injectable contraceptives, 10% are on pills, 10% use condoms, 8% have IUDs and only 3% have implants. Depo-Provera was among the most used injectables, but it was difficult to administer and painful. Now, the government, with donor support, is field-testing in Nawalpur and Sindhuli a lower-dose injectable called Sayana Press, which could make contraceptives more accessible to women.Interventions like these, the government hopes, will reduce unwanted pregnancies, thus preventing unsafe abortions and reducing the number of women who have to take care of larger families.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/mothers-in-Nepal-still-dying-at-childbirth,1007" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Complications during pregnancy or at childbirth</a> are the leading causes of death among girls aged 15-19 in low-income countries like Nepal. Unwanted pregnancies also hamper women’s education and economic independence, and impact their family life, fuelling an intergenerational cycle of poverty and poor health.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Implant service providers take contraception to Nepal's poor</a>, Rojita Adhikari

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https://youtu.be/VaSUaALct0oParvati Thapa, 39, looks lost as she wanders into the district hospital in this isolated northwestern corner of Nepal. She and her husband have walked a whole day to get here, and they just found out she is 19 weeks pregnant.Thapa already has three children, and after they were born she lost four sons one after another. After her menstruation stopped, she suspected menopause but now knows she is pregnant for the eighth time.“My husband is away for months at a time, tending cattle in the mountains. Why should I use <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">family planning</a> when we meet so rarely?” asks Thapa, who looks much older than her age.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=33648&amp;preview_nonce=5c7e9df60a&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Born in Nepal</a>, Sewa Bhattarai<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=33648&amp;preview_nonce=5c7e9df60a&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> </a>Like most women in the remote mountains, Thapa has never used contraceptives. <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-males-and-population-decline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Doing so carries a stigma for married women with migrant husbands</a>, and there are misconceptions about the different methods available. The result is that women suffer unwanted pregnancies, <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/globe-rallies-to-aid-nepals-women,3841" target="_blank" rel="noopener">unsafe abortions</a> and end up with large families they are  unable to take care of.Nepal’s contraceptive prevalence rate is 53%, but in Bajura it is only 34%. Although this is a dramatic improvement from 20 years ago, it is still a long way from the government’s target of 75% contraceptive prevalence by 2030. The fact that the use of modern family planning methods has plateaued since 2006 points to futher deterrences.“The family planning rate is really low in Bajura because a lot of the men migrate to India for work,” says nurse Dhankala Khadka at Bajura District Hospital. “If the husband is away and the wife wants to use birth control, she is often questioned about fidelity and may be ostracised by her community. Even husbands do not support them.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58de9c7e80680e054862jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="970"/><figcaption>Parvati Thapa went to Bajura district hospital suspecting menopause, but found out it was her eighth pregnancy. Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>Almost every woman who visited nurse Khadka on a busy day last month had the same story: their husbands were away and they did not use birth control.There were 804 abortions in Bajura in the past year, which Rohit Giri of Bajura District Hospital says is very high: “Most who come to us are married women with children, and the abortions are due to the lack of birth control, which leads to unwanted pregnancies.”<a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/this-is-how-to-upgrade-nepals-rural-health/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Bayalpata Hospital</a> in neighbouring Achham district, the story is much the same — it performed 660 abortions in the past year. Bhawana Rawal, 33, has had two abortions at the hospital in the past five years and admits she does not used birth control.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/migrating-males-and-population-decline/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Migrating males and population decline</a>, Om Astha Rai“I already have two children, and do not need any more, but I got pregnant twice by accident,” she says. “I still do not want to use contraceptives in future.” Rawal did try a Depo-Provera injection once but says it made her bleed too much. Other women have the same complaint. For those who do not want to use a permanent contraception, many felt pills were a hassle to acquire and take every day, and IUDs hurt.“Unwanted pregnancies often lead to anaemia because women lose so much blood,” says Kalawati Setthi, a nurse at Bayalpata Hospital. Nearly 40% of women in Far-western Nepal were found in a survey to be anaemic — most of them pregnant and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/back-to-the-nipple-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">breastfeeding</a>.The government has put up posters in rural hospitals to encourage contraceptive use but at this rate, it is unlikely that the target of 75% contraceptive use will be reached.<h2>Demand, but no supply</h2>According to the Nepal Demographic and Health Survey (NDHS) 2016, there is a 24% unmet need for family planning in Nepal — a quarter of women who need contraceptives are not using them. A report by Population Services international (PSI) Nepal found that unmarried youth aged 15-24 and married women aged 20-24 are the groups that use contraceptives the least.Married women like Parvati Thapa at a clinic in Bajura last month (left), normally tended to use contraceptives after their first child, and exposure to information about family planning through health workers and current users of family planning, as well as talking about it with husbands or relatives.Unmarried youth were likely to discuss family planning only with their sexual partners and most used condoms over other methods, which were bought and kept by the male partner. In contrast, married women visited health facilities themselves and chose the type of method they wanted.Unmarried youth, especially adolescents, had a higher unmet need and were more vulnerable to stigma associated with family planning. The report argues that the term ‘family planning’ only applies to married women and their plan to have children, whereas there are many contraceptive users who have no intention of having children, or use contraceptives to prevent sexually-transmitted diseases (STDs).Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/child-marriage-in-nepal-eloped-at-13-mother-by-17/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Child marriage in Nepal, eloped at 13, mother by 17</a>, Sewa BhattaraiWhen a woman goes to a public health facility for contraceptives, a register is filled out, which includes a column for ‘husband’s name’, which is another deterrent for unmarried women. Though the husband’s name is optional, there is no column for the wife’s name when it comes to male contraceptives like condoms or a vasectomy.A report by the UN Population Fund (UNFPA) about sexual and reproductive health says complications in pregnancy and childbirth are the leading cause of death among girls aged 15-19 in low-income countries like Nepal. Unwanted pregnancies also hamper women’s education and economic independence, and impact their family life, fuelling an intergenerational cycle of poverty and poor health.<h2>More choice for family planning</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58e19c7e80680e054863jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1029"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Although Nepal’s contraceptive prevalence rate has increased dramatically, from 7% in 1981 to nearly 60% today, social taboos, patriarchy and unavailability mean that many women still do not have access to birth control.It usually falls on women to take the initiative, since many men refuse to use condoms or get a vasectomy. Popular contraceptives used to be the pill or Depo-Provera, an injectable that needs refrigeration and must be taken at a clinic, but the dosage is high and the injection painful.Now, women like Shanti Adhikari, 43, in Chitwan, (pictured, right) who have always used Depo-provera for short-term contraception, have a new choice: Sayana Press.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/implant-service-providers-take-contraception-to-nepals-poor/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Implant service providers take contraception to Nepal's poor</a>, Rojita Adhikari<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58e49c7e80680e054864jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="524" height="531">Adhikari’s husband, who works as a security guard in India, will be coming home for Dasain, so she is at the health post in Nawalpur for her Depo-Provera progesterone hormone injection, which prevents pregnancy for three months.But auxiliary nurse midwife Sharada Rimal (pictured, left) tells her about Sayana Press. Its advantages over Depo-Provera are that it comes with its own small needle, the dosage is much smaller, it is less painful and can be self-injected.“Everyone in my neighbourhood comes to this health post for contraceptives, but no one told me about this new injection. The needle looks much smaller, I think I will go with this one,” says Adhikari, 43, as Rimal proceeded to inject her in the thigh.Sayana Press, a successor to Depo-Provera, is being launched in Nepal in two districts: Nawalpur and Sindhuli, by the reproductive health agency Ipas Nepal in coordination with the UK’s Department for International Development (DFID) and the Ministry of Health and Population (MoH). The drug has already been tried and approved, and is available for use in 40 European countries.What sets Sayana apart from Depo-Provera is the smaller dosage (104 mg compared to 150), it comes with its own needle, it can be stored at room temperature and is injected sub-cutaneously (just under the skin), rather than in the muscles like <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Ftnp-the-curse-of-the-contraceptive,493" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Depo-Provera</a>.Injectable contraceptives are the most popular reversible contraceptive among women, for a variety of reasons. Adhikari says she does not like pills because she has to remember to take them every day, and, because of her age, she wants to be discreet about using them.While most other methods, like IUCDs, implants, condoms and pills, are visible and can be discovered by others, an injection leaves no traces. 52% married couples use contraceptives in Nepal: 8.9% use injectables, 4.6% are on pills, 4.2% use condoms, 1.4% use IUDs and only 3.3% use implants. 9.8% use other traditional methods. Some have gone for permanent contraception, with 14.7% preferring female Sterilization and 5.5% male Sterilization.“Depo-Provera has been in use for 50 years, but it was so popular and effective not much further research was done on it,” explains Lhamo Yangchen Sherpa of Ipas. “But WHO studies found that a much lower dosage was enough.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141124/636a58e69c7e80680e054865jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="478" height="531">Health workers like Rimal confirm that Sayana Press is much easier to inject, more portable and less painful. Though it is self-injectable in some countries, in Nepal, where it has been undergoing trials in 14 health facilities of Nawalpur and Sindhuli since 5 September, it will only be administered by health professionals.Bhim Singh Tinkari of the MoH Family Welfare Division says that since 7% of pregnant women still die from unsafe abortions, making contraceptives easily accessible can save lives. Binod Bindu Sharma of the MoH links contraceptives to women’s choice and empowerment. “The availability of contraceptives is important for women’s rights, since it lets women choose when and how many children to have,” says Sharma, adding that the ministry is making Sayana Press available for free in health facilities.Lisa Honan, head of DFID Nepal, links contraceptives with women’s economic potential, adding that the country can make better use of women in the workforce if they have better choices of contraceptives. “DFID is committed to providing Sayana in any volume in Nepal until 2022 through UNFPA (the UN Population Fund), and would help Nepal scale it up all over the country if the results of the feasibility study are positive.”

Nepal far from hitting contraceptive target

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

The Himalayan mountains are also known as the Third Pole because it is the largest repository of water stored as ice outside the two polar regions. However, it is divided by political boundaries that nature does not recognise – be it the air pollutants that flow or migratory birds that fly over the peaks. The Himalaya is also a geopolitical and climate change hot spot. In these geopolitically and environmentally challenging times, it becomes even more important to create oases of conversations, where candid and future-oriented discussions can take place at a people-to-people level. Platforms dominated by inter-governmental agencies have been able to do little. The Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) aims to be a platform that stands at the crossroads of climate, community, and connectivity, fostering dialogue and promoting citizen-led action. Growing up in the Indian Himalayan town of Kalimpong and spending the nascent stages of my career helping in setting up offices of the award-winning Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) that fostered community involvement in conservation, I have witnessed transformations both good and bad.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5559" height="3711" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  There are initiatives like Nepal’s forest cover doubling in 30 years, or Bhutan’s drive for high-end sustainable tourism. At the same time, I have seen landscapes destroyed by bulldozers and tall buildings competing for air and sunlight in expanding cities. From crony capitalists patronised by political leaders engaged in plundering natural resources to citizen-led initiatives on cleanliness drives and waste management, the Himalayan region is full of stories from both ends of the spectrum of disappointment and hope. Life is about observing and, in one’s little sphere of influence, taking baby steps towards catalysing positive transformation. This is why, Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) had been hosting the Himalayan Consensus Summit in Nepal from 2014 to 2020 following which the Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) was incubated since 2023. HFF is an initiative to encourage multi-faceted dialogues on the topics of climate, community, and connectivity in the Himalayan region by bringing together leaders, experts, institutions, and practitioners from different countries and sectors.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09" data-rendition-name="original" width="5364" height="3581" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  In this year’s edition, there are a series of sessions on 6 February with 34 speakers including ten international panelists. On day two the Himalayan Haat aims to showcase a variety of local, indigenous, and sustainable products. As in 2024, it is believed that the conversations and interactions at the HFF will lead to more partnerships and collaborations from climate financing to managing disasters to taking Himalayan brands global. YOUNG FELLOWS Beyond this, there are sessions on topics such as geopolitics and the Himalaya, as well as on migration which are especially relevant considering the past few years that have seen many events which impacted the global world order. One of the key features of HFF, guided by our ethos of bringing together experts, experiences, and enthusiasm, is also to ensure stronger youth representation through the HFF Youth Fellowship. This year, following a rigorous screening process, youth fellows were selected out of an overwhelming response. Those chosen will be able to attend the events as well as collaborate in future research and publications. Selected fellows will also be provided with full scholarships to the public policy program at Takshashila Institution, an independent centre for research and education in public policy in Bangalore. In a region where half of the population is under 25 years, it is important to get the future generations also in the room.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="5273" height="3520" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  Nepal presents an ideal location to hold meetings such as this, where no-holds-barred conversations can take place face-to-face. The country has good air connectivity and one of the most liberal visa policies in Asia. And while Davos is a good example to follow for convening global voices, we need not have so many private planes burning fossil fuel, as we can have participants take scheduled commercial flights or have regional participants simply take a road trip. Ultimately, the Himalayan region is also about festivities. No exchange of ideas is complete without immersing in art, culture, culinary experiences, and music. This is why HFF envisages graduating to a Himalayan Jatra, rooted in a region where people smile from the heart, and teach the world to smile with them. Join us at HFF 2026 as we move closer to this vision. See the schedule <a href="file:///Z:/%231297%20February%206/pix/page%209/HFF%202026%20Program%20Schedule%20(1)_compressed.pdf">here</a>. Sujeev Shakya is Chair of Nepal Economic Forum and Convenor of the Himalayan Future Forum.

Himalayan Futures Forum 2026

On full-moon nights in October and the Nepali New Year in April, hundreds gather to worship at the sacred pond of Mai Pokhari in Ilam. According to legend, the pond was born thousands of years ago from the union of the holy Mai and Tamur rivers in eastern Nepal. Another story tells of an elderly couple whose death gave rise to a life-giving pond meant to quench human thirst. The nine corners of the pond are each believed to house a goddess capable of granting health, fertility, good harvests, and protection from landslides and storms. In every version, one message is constant: when people polluted the water, the goddess moved away. Fear of losing her protection still shapes how people treat the sacred water body today. Besides ponds, wetlands are areas that are saturated with water, permanently or seasonally, including marshes, swamps, and bogs – representing some of the world’s most biologically diverse ecosystems, with distinctive soil, plants and animals. In 2008, Mai Pokhari earned the status of a Ramsar site – a wetland of global importance – for its ecological significance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mai Pokhari"> <figcaption>Mai Pokhari in Ilam. Photo: JITENDRA RAJ BAJRACHARYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  Its mid-elevation broadleaved forests provide habitat for many epiphytic orchids that grow without soil, attaching themselves to trees, and protected species such as the white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis), leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) and Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra). For the people of the area, this is more than a wetland. It is a living mother, an ancestral guardian, and at the heart of their cultural identity. But long before it was recognised internationally, it was already being protected through belief, respect, and traditional knowledge passed quietly from one generation to the next. This pattern of faith-based stewardship is repeated across the Himalaya. Spirituality has shaped conservation in ways no law ever could. Fishing, hunting, and polluting wetlands and rivers are strictly forbidden, not by force but by faith. When erosion threatened the pond in the 1930s, villagers planted pine trees along its edges. As forest degradation increased, the community organised itself, establishing community forests in 1992 and 2001. In 2004, the area surrounding the pond was formally recognised as a religious forest –- a recognition based on local devotion rather than outside instruction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Map of wetlands in Hindu Kush"> <figcaption>Map showing four wetlands in the Hindu Kush Himalaya. Source: RAMESH KATHARIYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  In the lowland forests of western Nepal, lies Ghodaghodi, a wetland complex consisting of large and shallow oxbow lake with 13 associated marshes and meadows surrounded by tropical deciduous forest on the lower slopes of the Siwalik range along the southern edge of the Himalaya. These wetlands and forests serve as a critical wildlife corridor between the lowlands and the Siwalik, supporting several globally threatened species of plants and animals, and rare wild rice. To the people who live around it, especially the Indigenous Tharu, Ghodaghodi is alive – a sacred presence shaped by gods, ancestors, and centuries of belief. The name Ghodaghodi, which means horse and mare, carries ancient memories. Elders tell stories of divine beings who once moved through the landscape in animal form, leaving behind a lake infused with spiritual powers. The waters are believed to be the dwelling place of gods and goddesses, particularly Lord Shiva. This belief has shaped how the wetland is viewed: not as property to be owned, but as a holy space to be respected. Each year during the festival of Agan Panchami, thousands of pilgrims gather at Ghodaghodi, walking barefoot along forest paths with offerings of flowers, fruits, milk, and water. Polluting the water or harming its creatures is believed to invite misfortune. These unwritten cultural rules have conserved the wetland for generations, long before it was declared a wetland of global importance. In the central highlands of Bhutan lies the Gangtey-Phobji in a wide glacial valley. The Ramsar site is the prime wintering habitat for the globally vulnerable, black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Black necked crane"> <figcaption>Black-necked crane in Phobji. ALEX TREADWAY / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  An annual festival at the Gangtey monastery welcomes the arrival of the cranes in November. Locals revere the birds as sacred messengers, and they are believed to bring blessings and prosperity. It is these beliefs that have helped preserve Bhutan’s flagship Ramsar site. In West Sikkim, the Khachoedpalri wetland was declared a Ramsar site in 2025. This Himalayan high-altitude wetland ecosystem and its surrounding temperate forests provide critical habitat for many species of flora and fauna, and the wetland serves as an important habitat and stopover site for migratory birds. But more importantly, it has religious significance as a pilgrimage site and is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus as a wish-fulfilling lake. It is these values that have supported its conservation from time immemorial. These wetlands are recognised internationally as Ramsar sites for their ecological and other attributes. However, the very cultural practices that preserved these wetlands, along with new external pressures, now threaten them. Many are now increasingly under threat due to growing human intervention – including misplaced practices such as the ritual release of exotic fish by the faithful. Some religious bodies now advise against these practices. Many others are drying out, silting up, or polluted by upstream activity. As these changes intensify, there is concern that not only biodiversity, but also the cultural practices and spiritual values tied to the wetlands may begin to fade. As we mark this year’s World Wetlands Day on 2 February with the theme ‘Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Cultural Heritage’ it is a reminder that wetlands are not only ecosystems – they are rich cultural spaces. Traditional knowledge and belief systems have quietly conserved these wetlands for centuries, showing that when people revere nature, protection becomes a way of life. It is this profound connection, where culture nurtures ecology that we must safeguard to ensure neither wetlands nor the heritage they hold fade away. Sunita Chaudhary is the Biodiversity Lead at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

Where culture meets ecology

When I landed in Kathmandu last November, I arrived with a Diwali hangover. Not the festive kind, but the coughing, dust-coated, throat-scratching kind gifted by North India’s winter air. After a decade of breathing in Delhi’s seasonal gas chamber, my lungs were in an open revolt. But within days of landing in Kathmandu, my cough vanished. It felt almost miraculous. The air was crisper. The Air Quality Index was kinder, and the Himalayan peaks rose on the horizon.&nbsp;
But by the third week, the familiar grey veil returned. First as a faint blur, then peak by peak the Himalaya began to disappear. Locals said it had been getting worse every year.&nbsp;
Much of this haze is not Kathmandu’s doing. What drifts into Nepal each winter is a toxic spillover from the plains of North India and Pakistan: black carbon, brown clouds, and fine particulate matter carried across borders by seasonal winds. Kathmandu’s bowl-shaped valley simply traps what the region exhales.
Abid Omar, founder of the <a href="https://pakairquality.com/" target="_blank">Pakistan Air Quality Initiative</a>, put it bluntly: “We often view air pollution and climate change as separate silos, but in the Himalaya, they are one and the same.”
Black carbon is essentially soot from diesel emissions, brick kilns, and crop burning. It may be short-lived in the atmosphere, but when ash settles on snow and ice, it reduces reflectivity and accelerates melting.&nbsp;
Omar adds, “Black carbon is a threat to the water security of the entire Indus and Ganges basins.”
What burns on both sides of Punjab do not stay in Punjab. It ends up on glaciers that feed rivers, sustaining hundreds of millions of people downstream.
In November 2024, AQI levels in New Delhi hovered near 500 and about the same time Lahore briefly became the world’s most polluted city, with the AQI count crossing 1,100. These numbers are not abstract.
According to the <a href="https://www.stateofglobalair.org/resources/archived/state-global-air-report-2024" target="_blank">State of Global Air 2024 report</a>, India recorded more than 2 million deaths attributable to air pollution in 2023. Bangladesh and Pakistan each saw over 200,000 deaths. Air pollution is now one of the leading causes of premature death across South Asia.
Nepal, often imagined as cleaner by default, tells a sobering story of its own. Air pollution in Nepal led to an estimated <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2025/06/17/air-pollution-is-the-number-one-health-risk-factor-in-nepal#:~:text=Vehicle%20Emissions:%20Continuing%20to%20electrify,airflows%20carry%20pollutants%20across%20borders." target="_blank">48,500 premature deaths</a>, with the loss of more than 1.4 million disability-adjusted life years. The University of Chicago’s <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/post/nepal-capital-chokes-as-wildfires-rage-en" target="_blank">Air Quality Life Index</a> estimates that particulate pollution cuts 3.4 years off the life of the average Nepali. In the Tarai region, life expectancy drops by nearly five years. In Kathmandu, residents lose 2.6 years.
Says infectious disease specialist Anup Subedee: “Air pollution is killing at a far higher rate than Covid-19 did during its worst years in Nepal. People are dying in their twenties of cancer, or having heart attacks and strokes in their thirties and forties.”
Nearly <a href="https://www.icimod.org/press-release/kathmandu-choked-on-polluted-air-for-75-of-the-last-90-days/?utm_source=chatgpt.com" target="_blank">40 per cent of winter particulate pollution in the Kathmandu</a> valley originates outside Nepal. Black carbon carried from Punjab, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh in India, besides parts of Pakistan, rides the winds north, settles on Himalayan snow, and accelerates glacier melt by absorbing heat.
“The pollutants travel across borders within shared airsheds, creating one gigantic plume of polluted air over India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan several times a year,” says Subedee.
In some Himalayan regions, <a href="https://www.icimod.org/success-stories/chapter-2/black-carbon-and-glacier-melt/" target="_blank">scientists estimate</a> that black carbon can increase localised melt rates by up to 30%. Yet global climate negotiations continue to treat glacial loss primarily as a carbon dioxide problem.&nbsp;
CHINA’S APPROACH
The South Asian story is transboundary, and more immediate as well as more preventable. This is not only about emissions. It is about coordination, and China offers an instructive contrast.
Since 2013, China has dramatically improved its air quality by declaring a '<a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/12/12/what-new-delhi-can-learn-from-chinas-war-on-air-pollution#:~:text=In%20the%20following%20years%2C%20Beijing,29.3%CE%BCg%2Fm%C2%B3%20in%202024." target="_blank">war on pollution</a>'. A major air pollutant, suspended PM2.5 levels fell sharply through strict controls on coal, vehicles, and industry, massive investment in renewables, and legally binding national action plans.
Crucially, China shifted from city-by-city firefighting to a regional airshed approach. Provinces shared data, coordinated emergency responses, enforced unified standards, and tied environmental performance to political accountability. South Asian countries have done none of this.
Isolated national actions are insufficient when pollution itself ignores borders. India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan share the same airshed. Without cooperation, each country keeps breathing its neighbour’s mistakes.
“As the government representing the largest population affected by air pollution, India should lead this effort. Instead, the region has drifted away from cooperation, and the cost is becoming catastrophic,” Subedee says.
The haze over Kathmandu is not only Nepal’s burden. It is a <a href="https://sapannews.com/2024/12/27/could-climate-diplomacy-be-the-googly-a-gamechanger-for-regional-cooperation/" target="_blank">regional failure</a>. The melting of South Asia’s glaciers is not just a global warming story. It is also a local one, written in the smoke rising from our own fields, factories, and highways.
If we keep ignoring black carbon, the Himalayas will keep losing time, snow, and stability. The disappearing peaks of Kathmandu are not a metaphor. They are a warning.
And like the air itself, that warning is already crossing borders. ©Sapan News
Pragyan Srivastava is an Indian journalist and associate editor at <a href="http://www.sapannews.com/" target="_blank">Sapan News</a>. <a href="mailto:pragyan@sapannews.com" target="_blank">pragyan@sapannews.com</a>