Qatar is one of the most popular overseas destination for Nepali workers, and because of that the Gulf state’s strict measures to stop the spread of coronavirus has had a direct impact on Nepal’s economy.On 9 March Qatar banned the entry of nationals from 14 countries including Nepal, and at least 2,000 Nepali workers in the country have been quarantined. The restriction has also affected Nepal’s economic activities beyond labour migration.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/greens-from-nepal-in-qatars-desert/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/greens-from-nepal-in-qatars-desert/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1584429126680000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHn7YwEcZztCHzoi81nGBan7Kbocg">Kalyan Ghimire’s company</a> Al Saman used to export three consignments of agriculture produce by air to Doha every week, but that business has ground to a halt since the ban on passengers and cargo."We had just received an order for 5,000 kg of strawberries from Qatar, and had sourced them from a farm in Kakani, but the order was cancelled,” Ghimire says. The company also exported vegetables and even gundruk which is in high demand from Nepalis in the Gulf state.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b78db9c7e80680e0646cajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="960"/><figcaption>The Nepali company Al Saman that sells farm produce like these strawberries have had to halt exports to Qatar because of the ban on passengers and cargo to Doha. All Photos: KALYAN GHIMIRE</figcaption></figure>Ghimire had also just started exporting Nepali bottled water from Rasuwa to Qatar, and sent especially packaged 480 bottles for test marketing in Doha to compete with Evian and other brands. However, the COVID-19 scare has put an end to that experiment as well.Ghimire was part of a 40-member team of government officials, entrepreneurs and farmers taking part in the Agriteq 2020 in Doha from 18-22 March, but the trade fair has been called off.“Such ups and downs are to be expected in any business, and I try not to lose sleep over this as it is beyond my control, but let’s hope we can resume exports,” says Ghimire, who credits Qatar’s ambassador to Nepal Yousuf Bin Mohamed for getting Nepali exporters to diversify their product range.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b78de9c7e80680e0646cbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="768"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Only Qatar Airways still flies Kathmandu-Doha after Nepal Airlines and Himalaya Airlines both suspended operations between the two capitals after the travel ban. Qatar airways is still carrying transit passengers via Doha to and from Kathmandu and Europe/North America.Ghimire's son Saman who is based in Qatar and manages the business there returned to Nepal earlier this week. "I did not want to be trapped in Qatar as business is down, likely till the end of April, so I managed to get out before the flights got canceled," he says.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-mobility/crossborder-virus-and-nepali-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Crossborder virus and Nepali migrant workers</a>, Upasana KhadkaThe Qatar Government's travel ban and Nepal's decision to stop issuing labour permits to all destinations including Qatar has put thousands of Nepalis in Qatar as well as in Nepal in limbo. Some 40,000 Nepali individuals who were set to go to Qatar to start employment are stuck in Kathmandu. An unknown number of workers in Nepal on vacation from Qatar are also stranded here, with concerns about their visas or work permits expiring.There are 401 COVID-19 cases in Qatar with four recoveries, and there are supposed to be about 2,000 Nepali workers who have been quarantined. On Wednesday there was a spike of 238 new cases in Qatar was related to quarantined expat workers but details on nationalities have not been revealed.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b78e19c7e80680e0646ccjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="1600"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>COVID-19 has not distinguished between nationals and expats, politicians and those at the lower rungs of the ladder or between rich and poor. But workers in camps neither have the luxury of social distancing nor the opportunity to work from home."There is definitely a sense of fear among workers,” says Mahesh Nepal, who has been working in Qatar for five years. “There is increased surveillance in the labour camps, and all workers have to undergo tests before and after work each day. Mobility has been restricted and authorities including emergency response teams are on call at all times."Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-economy-already-weak-takes-direct-hit/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s economy, already weak, takes direct hit</a>, Sanghamitra SubbaMigrant workers have benefited from the strong health infrastructure and containment efforts in Korea, Malaysia and the Gulf that together have about 1.5 million Nepalis. The consequences of the coronavirus pandemic goes beyond health to Nepal’s economy.As the top destination for Nepali workers in 2018/19, Qatar is important for Nepal’s remittance-based economy. Doha is also an important aerial gateway for tourist traffic and the Nepali diaspora, and any further flight curtailments will have consequences for Nepal beyond migration.The Saudi and UAE blockade of Qatar for the past two years has actually helped the country become more self-reliant and bolstered its capacity to deal with the epidemic. In addition, Qatar has announced a $23 billion stimulus package to help the private sector weather the crisis.Says Mahesh Nepal: “The impact of the pandemic on the Qatar economy could have been worse due to external disruptions on supply chains or imports.”

Upasana Khadka

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Nepalis quarantined in Qatar

<figure><img width="1500" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937609c7e80680e03fe30jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: OM ASTHA RAI</figcaption></figure>What is it about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-lottery-of-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">labour migration</a> that keeps drawing hundreds of thousands of people every year away from their homes and families despite the evident risks?<a href="http://panosa.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Panos South Asia</a>’s new collection of reportage from the region, Uncertain Journeys: Labour Migration from South Asia seeks to answer this question through the eyes of 15 senior journalists who researched their stories in destination countries. Based on their interviews, they analyse various aspects of labour migration.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/changing-the-headlines-on-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Changing the headlines on migration</a>, Upasana Khadka<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/labour-pain/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Labour pain</a>, Om Astha RaiThe first chapter on Nepal is by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/caught-in-the-middle/migration-agency-exploitation,4003" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Upasana Khadka</a>, who has reported widely on the issue of Nepali migrants in the Gulf and Malaysia <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/changing-the-headlines-on-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">for this newspaper</a>. Khadka likens labour migration to a lottery, a culturally fatalistic view borne out of desperation to escape poverty back home. She narrates the stories of four individuals: Sharmila, Ramesh, Shama and Ram who are unlucky and are either caught, cheated, trafficked, or deported. Yet, even though they know the risks,  thousands of others take same route to seek their fortunes. <img width="200" height="174" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937639c7e80680e03fe31jpeg.jpg" alt="">‘Individuals are often aware of the common risks of migration … however, many continue to make risky decisions, not always because of lack of information, but despite it … it is possibility of being lucky that encourages so many to take risks,” she writes.Khadka also talks about the lack of bilateral agreements that have encouraged  avenues for illegal migration. Case in point is the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/homes-away-from-home/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">blanket ban on female domestic workers leaving Nepal</a>, despite which migrants continue to risk unauthorised channels to make it to their destination, setting in motion the chain of trafficking.Janak Raj Sapkota, author of the much-acclaimed book Kahar: Baideshi Rojgarile Bitholindo Samaj’ delves into human trafficking in Nepal under the guise of legal foreign employment, and the lack of laws that makes the connection between the two that has helped traffickers work behind the scenes.He argues that the political protection enjoyed by the remittance industry has aided this form of modern-day slavery to flourish, and until the ambiguities in legal structures are cleared and stronger policies are in place, Nepalis abroad will continue to be duped, or worse, abused and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/paying-an-arm-and-a-leg/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">maimed</a>. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/paying-an-arm-and-a-leg/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Paying an arm and a leg</a>, Om Astha Rai<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Killed in the line of Duty</a>, Om Astha Rai and Sonia AwaleUncertain Journeys: Labour Migration from South AsiaEdited by A.S. PanneerselvanSpeaking Tiger Publishing, New Delhi Price: INR 499<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937649c7e80680e03fe32jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="278">Filmmaker Kesang Tseten whose acclaimed 2008 documentary <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1519643/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Search of the Riyal</a> about four young Nepalis on journeys to the Gulf first bought the stark realities behind the remittances, also has a chapter about filming in Qatar and how he had to sneak behind aircraft crew to capture conversations with migrants inside the planes.Eleven years later he revisits characters from the first film for a sequel. He found that Danvir Jogi is still in Qatar and making good money, Navin Rai returned to a broken marriage and left again for Dubai, Prem Bareilly is in Dharan working as a silversmith amidst stigma of being a Dalit and Bhojraj Darzi is now a successful pig farmer in Nepal. But none of these are representative tales, Tsenten stresses, pointing out that it is vital to understand and sympathise with Nepalis opting to go abroad.The chapters on other South Asian show that there are a lot of similarities between the tragic tales of Nepali workers and those from Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and India. The case of Zulfiqar Ali of Pakistan who was charged with drug trafficking and consequently spent 13 years in death row in Indonesia reminds one of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener">conviction and incarceration of Govinda Mainali</a>, who was falsely accused of the murder and robbery of a Japanese woman in Tokyo in 1997.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nepalis-from-chitwan-to-chidoya,4110" target="_blank" rel="noopener">From Chitwan to Chiyoda</a>, Kunda DixitIn a chapter appropriately titled ‘A Return to Nothingness’, narration of an everyday scene at Indian airports, of the body bags being unloaded is not unlike <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/nepalis-killed-in-the-line-of-duty" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali migrants returning home in coffins at Kathmandu airport</a>. The migration of Sri Lankan farmers to the Gulf because of droughts caused by climate change is similar to that of <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/recharging-the-mountains-" target="_blank" rel="noopener">outmigration of people from the mid-hills of Nepal</a>. Bangladeshis overcharged and cheated of jobs in Singapore echo the plight of most <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepali migrants in Malaysia</a>. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/kleptocrats-of-kathmandu-and-kualalampur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kleptocrats of Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur</a>, Ramu Sapkota and Alyaa Alhadjri<a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/home-they-bring-the-workers-dead" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Home they bring workers dead</a>, Upasana Khadka Amidst the poignant stories of loss, there are tiny rays of hope. Following the three decades of war in Sri Lanka, women were forced to leave as domestic workers and toil hard in the Gulf, but discovered themselves in the process as individuals with rights and freedom.  What ties all of these stories together are the shared stories of aspiration and shattered dreams. Meanwhile all South Asian nations rely on the same destinations resulting in completion with each other, allowing employers to get away with little pay and exploitation in turn.Each chapter is a raw portrayal of a migrant life, and the book gives significant understanding of the poverty and social injustice in South Asia.The book is being launched at the Nepal Literature Festival in Pokhara during the weekend. <h2>Riyal revisited </h2> <figure><img width="1400" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171148/636937659c7e80680e03fe33jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“The tidal wave of migration that began 20 years ago continues…” That is how Kesang Tseten begins his documentary sequel to the 2008 film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1519643/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">In Search of the Riyal</a>. He tries to locate migrant workers he had filmed a decade ago, to find out what has become of them.Were their dreams realised? Did the Nepali workers in Qatar and UAE find what they were looking for? Were the intervening years kind to them? In The Riyalists, acclaimed film-maker Tseten (pictured, above) spends the first five minutes setting the stage for the journey ahead. We get to revisit young Nepalis on scaffolds whom we first met in the previous award-winning documentary.Ten years ago Dhanvir Jogi, a lanky lad from Terathum left behind his three-month-old son and started training at an institute in Kathmandu. He was diligent and hopeful, but worried about falling sick in the hot desert. In In Search of the Riyal Prem Bareily who often faced the stigma of being a Dalit back home in Dharan, did not shy away from his fears: “They might be talking about killing me but I wouldn’t know… I won’t understand their language.” Bhoj Darzi was fully aware of the risk he was putting himself into. He had heard of Nepalis returning home in coffins. Yet he took a loan in the hope of trading his job as a tailor in Jhapa for a more financially secure position in the Gulf. Shy and awkard, Nabin Rai, has a sad story with a happy ending. Tseten narrates: “It was the image of Nabin in his crisp white shirt and his newly married wife sporting a blue umbrella that remained etched in my mind from the earlier film.” But after two years in Qatar, Nabin came back to find that his wife took off with another man and abandoned his twin daughters. Nabin remarried and left for Dubai. Today, he is a foreman at an offshore gas rig and earns a good salary. He gets to visit home every three months where he is building a new home for his family.Dhanvir, who is with the same construction company in Qatar, has managed to acquire some land, get his sisters married, send his son to school, but missed out on his upbringing. “I was thin and young when I came,” he says on camera, “I’ll go back old.”Prem left Doha because he was not paid on time and mistreated by employers, and now works as a silversmith but faces stiff competition. He proudly shows the best worker certificate he received in Qatar and often regrets his decision to return. “I make good enough living here but there is no saving for future,” he rues.In Bhoj, there is no trace of a young man who once explained with wonder how the food tray inside planes worked. He was deported from Dubai for going on strike, framed by fellow workers. He left for Qatar next but returned shortly afterwards when his wife fell sick. His mother and wife run a local garment factory and he recently overtook his dead brother’s profitable piggery. He believes Nepalis can make it at home if they work hard. The four men are just a few of the hundreds of thousands of Nepalis toiling abroad. Their lives are mostly fascinating, not tragic. But what draws audience to these individuals is Tseten’s simple but compelling storytelling, his poignant narration, flawless direction interwoven with clips from ten years ago. Viewers will be struck by his compassion for less fortunate compatriots.There are moments of laughter, of camaraderie, of loss and farewells. Through it all, Tsenten is with us, uncovering men’s lives, sharing their grief and intact hopes, bringing us an intimate portrayal of Nepali migrants away and at home. The day this documentary will be launched, another 1,500 young Nepali men and women will fly off, forsaking their fields and families for the hopes of a better future. This film will help us understand why they leave despite real risks, and the need to create opportunities at home. The Riyalists Directed by Kesang Tseten Sunyata Film Productions, 2018 61 minutesSonia Awale

Sonia Awale

Shared stories, shattered dreams of South Asian migrant workers

Sudan Gurung is dancing. It is 2009. He has an emo fringe falling over one eye and is spinning on a polished floor. His dance shows dedication — moves that take years of bruised elbows to land. The clip is 16 years old, and had been sitting in the dead archives of YouTube and old Facebook pages, watched by almost nobody. This month <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@4gr4j/video/7621892206902725909">it has 1.9 million views</a>. Gurung became Home Minister on 27 March and resigned on Wednesday, barely a month into office. His<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@aayvik/video/7626069452177542408"> pre-political life had been put back into circulation</a> at industrial speed -- the b-boying, the DJ sets, and the YouTube video of him dancing in a music clip.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026042202040_71df4d531423e7c941abde95fb8106346c70ab0afb71bbeb520cc570f14ba178.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026042202040_71df4d531423e7c941abde95fb8106346c70ab0afb71bbeb520cc570f14ba178" data-rendition-name="original" width="2300" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit"> </figure>  The youth of Nepal, well-versed in snappy TikTok edits and aura compilations, turned the archive into a meme economy almost overnight. TikTok remixed the footage to trap beats. The comments settled on a nickname that crossed into everyday speech within days: 'Homie Minister'. <div class="embed-block"><blockquote class="tiktok-embed" cite="https://www.tiktok.com/@yalexthwreal/video/7622325255792512276" data-video-id="7622325255792512276" style="max-width: 605px;min-width: 325px;" > <section> <a target="_blank" title="@yalexthwreal" href="https://www.tiktok.com/@yalexthwreal?refer=embed">@yalexthwreal</a> <a title="sudangurung" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/sudangurung?refer=embed">#sudangurung</a> new home minister of Nepal😎 <a title="fyppppppppppppppppppppppp" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/fyppppppppppppppppppppppp?refer=embed">#fyppppppppppppppppppppppp</a> <a title="sudangrg" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/sudangrg?refer=embed">#sudangrg</a> <a title="home" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/home?refer=embed">#home</a> <a title="minister" target="_blank" href="https://www.tiktok.com/tag/minister?refer=embed">#minister</a> <a target="_blank" title="♬ original sound - •⪨н є α я т ❤н α ¢ к є я ⪩• - Music Universe 🎧" href="https://www.tiktok.com/music/original-sound-•⪨н-є-α-я-т-❤н-α-¢-к-є-я-⪩•-7308733170064231170?refer=embed">♬ original sound - •⪨н є α я т ❤н α ¢ к є я ⪩• - Music Universe 🎧</a> </section> </blockquote> <script async src="https://www.tiktok.com/embed.js"></script></div> As Home Minister, Gurung was in charge of the Nepal Police, Armed Police Force, Department of Immigration, and the country's internal security apparatus. Calling him 'homie' collapsed the distance between that office and the Discord server where the movement that brought him into power had organised itself. What is harder to explain is why the nostalgic clips did the narrative work for Gurung's political standing right up until the moment the paperwork did not. A teenager on a dance floor in a Thamel club, filmed before smartphones had decent cameras, was functioning as political currency for a powerful home minister, while a share registry was quietly filling the other column. The footage was not an argument. Gurung was not doing anything in it that related to home affairs. He was just dancing. The comments compared him to <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@4gr4j/video/7621892206902725909">Korean film heroes</a>. A separate <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@tandavyt7/video/7622151050128018708">48,000-like edit</a> was captioned 'Our New Home Minister Aura'. The replies were full of people saying they got chills listening to him speak. Even after his resignation, most comments on his Facebook page were supportive, saying he had been punished for pursuing truth and justice.&nbsp; Political legitimacy in Nepal has been built out of many things over the last 70 years, but it has never been built out of this. The question was always: what happens when the job starts demanding things his style, boldness, and swag cannot provide. Political aura in Nepal used to be a slow harvest, now it isn't. B P Koirala spent eight years in prison under the Panchayat. He wrote fiction at Sundari Jal. The writing survived, the prison sentences survived, and that experience became the template for what a serious Nepali politician looked like: someone the state had tried to break and failed. Legitimacy was accumulated by having their lives taken away, and refusing to bend the knee. The old mechanics of legitimacy produced politicians who could be audited. The record was made of words, dates, votes, and years behind bars. A voter who wanted to know what a leader stood for read his writings. A journalist digging for inconsistency could find it. The system was slow, often corrupt, and frequently boring. But boring was part of the job description. A minister was supposed to be slightly dull — evidence that the person was doing the unglamorous work of reading files and sitting through committee meetings. Today, boring is a disqualification. The attention economy rewards velocity and visual charge, and a politician who cannot generate either does not exist in the feed, and that means does not exist at all. The legacy parties are still issuing press statements criticising the new guard in the grammar of paper trails and procedural failure. But the audience has stopped reading, users scroll for their next viral bite. Sudan Gurung, unlike the old parties, understood exactly which grammar the feed rewarded. On his first evening as Home Minister, he posted a photo of himself sleeping on a sofa inside the ministry. Caption: creation cannot be greater than the creator, government is not above the people. The image travelled further in 12 hours than any ministerial press release has ever done.&nbsp; A minister napping on a sofa, phone-shot, zero production, read by the public as evidence of a minister who had skipped the motorcade and got straight to work. Gurung used Facebook to announce the names of former ministers and businessmen he intended to arrest. The feed was used to pre-announce state security action.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260422010456_2fa1918e1dd031d01f38b4001ee306d9414073cec0b795fa43a75cb5a8deb8c7.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260422010456_2fa1918e1dd031d01f38b4001ee306d9414073cec0b795fa43a75cb5a8deb8c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="926" height="868" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit"> </figure>  INFLUENTIAL INFLUENCER This is not how the Ministry of Home Affairs has ever operated. It is how a YouTuber releases a series. Sudan Gurung was a political content creator. As home minister, he was an influential influencer kinetically doing something in the visual medium. Much like Prime Minister Balendra Shah's sunglasses, Gurung's aura, authenticity and swag were a brand asset, instantly recognisable at thumbnail size. Balen's rap career supplies a pre-political archive that authenticates him the same way Gurung's DJ sets and b-boying clips authenticated him. The aesthetic is doing the work a manifesto used to do. The work is authenticity, and the strategy is auramaxxing. The emo fringe predates the ministry. The DJ sets predate Hami Nepal. The b-boying predates the earthquake, the NGO, the September uprising, the interim cabinet, all of it. Whatever Gurung is now, he was already that person before the office existed. This was the real spectacle of the Homie Minister: authenticity. Nepal's youth have grown up watching heavily-polished, talking-point ministers speak in a language aimed at nobody in particular. But that grainy archival clip of the Home Minister from 2009 was honest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260422010456_5d6dff3a09e8b7e77dc60c3aa567c9e02b6bd5f90f94e20737ec05cc9a09023b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260422010456_5d6dff3a09e8b7e77dc60c3aa567c9e02b6bd5f90f94e20737ec05cc9a09023b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="When aura meets audit NT"> </figure>  The effect transcended GenZ. <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@ektapokharel/video/7623242573481561365">A TikTok trend</a> captioned NOT ONLY OUR HOME MINISTER, WE ARE ALSO FROM THAT ERA <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@sonykhadka/video/7624106790266948872">has millennials posting their own</a> archive photos from the same period, aligning themselves with Gurung's pre-political aesthetic. The aura did <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@_thakuri/video/7623397397556645141">cross-generational work</a>. It was a shared legibility, spanning at least 15 years of Nepali youth culture, with the Home Minister standing at its centre.&nbsp; The traditional politician's entire adult life is a performance of identity. Every photograph is lit for the media, every statement is vetted. The persona is the product, and the product has been in development for 30 years. This makes the old guard legible but suspect in the attention economy. A generation raised on authenticity-as-currency reads the decades of careful performance as evidence of something to hide. The polish is the problem. The nostalgic Sudan Gurung party clips inverted this. The polish was absent. The footage could not be performance aimed at the viewer, because the viewer did not exist in 2009 and neither did the political stakes. The clip was therefore read as real, in a way a press conference can never be. It was just a kid dancing, and he happened to grow up to be the Home Minister. But Sudan Gurung's job was never to go viral. The Ministry of Home Affairs requires the person running it to file a complete asset declaration and to avoid holding financial interests in crony entities.&nbsp; None of that work is content. A correctly filed asset declaration does not get remixed into a trap beat. A functioning immigration database is not a TikTok. The paperwork that constitutes actual governance is structurally boring in exactly the way the old parties are structurally boring, and for the same reason. It is the slow, procedural, checkable apparatus that the old system was built to produce and that the new system has not yet learned to replace. And it is painstaking follow-the-money paper trail investigative journalists in the legacy media who uncovered the evidence. You cannot auramaxx your way out of a share registry. You cannot post your way past a conflict-of-interest statute. No amount of fire outfits and wild DJ transitions does anything for you when a journalist pulls the initial shareholder list of Star Micro Insurance and finds your name at number 49, with Rs2.5 million in shares alongside investors linked to Deepak Bhatta and Sulav Agrawal — two men currently at the centre of a Rs 3.7 billion money laundering investigation. <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@blox.drop/video/7622173520981658900">Auramaxxing was engineered</a> for the mechanics of reaching office. It is the reason Sudan Gurung became Home Minister and Gagan Thapa did not. The question that had not yet been tested, until this week, was whether the same weapon works when the terrain changes. The terrain does change when you assume power. This week, the answer arrived. TWO CLOCKS Two clocks had been running, and they did not sync. The first clock was built for auramaxxing. A clip posted at eight in the morning peaked by noon. A sofa photo was remixed before the minister had left the building. The feedback loop is fast and legible, and a politician playing this clock gets real-time data on what to post next. The old guard never learned to read it, which is a large part of why they lost the election. The second clock was the one the ministry actually runs on. It measures in quarters, court calendars, and the slow grind of investigation files moving between offices. A share registry takes weeks to pull. A money-laundering case moves at the speed of the prosecutor's office, which is to say, it often does not appear to move at all, until one morning it does. The legacy mass media is fed leaks, and the second clock does not care whether the minister is currently trending. The two clocks collided this week, and the second clock got there first. Faster than anyone expected. The first clock put Gurung in the Home Ministry in weeks. The second clock put him out of it in less than a month. On Sunday evening, Diyopost and Janaastha published documents showing Gurung as a founding shareholder in Star Micro Insurance and Liberty Micro Life — companies licensed by the Nepal Insurance Authority in 2022 following what reporting identified as political lobbying by Bhatta and Agrawal. A photograph also surfaced of Hami Nepal, the NGO Gurung chairs, honouring Bhatta as a donor on 21 December 2021. Gurung's first response was auramaxxed. A Monday Facebook post distinguishing ‘rumours’ from ‘facts’, insisting the shares were disclosed within his broader Rs20 million securities portfolio, promising to cooperate with any investigation. "Allegations and truth are not the same thing," he wrote. "Decisions should be based on evidence, not sentiment." It was a coherent clip, but it did not stop the clock. By Wednesday, Prime Minister Balendra Shah had sought written clarification. Leaders within the RSP itself were calling for his resignation. The opposition Nepali Congress had framed the question as one of democratic transparency.&nbsp; Gurung resigned, posting his decision to Facebook as he did everything else. Ethics, he wrote, hold more weight than any position. There is no power greater than public trust. He ended in English, invoking ‘my country … the respect of our security forces … the youths of Nepal’. Even the exit was content. And this is the asymmetry the office exposed. A politician whose legitimacy is built on fast 30 second videos is structurally exposed to a process that runs slower than the news cycle, because the archive of aesthetic proof was not engineered to answer documentary evidence.&nbsp; It was engineered to displace the demand for documentary evidence in the first place. When that demand returns, as it always does once a politician takes office, the digital archive keeps performing, but the documents keep getting uncovered. And the two tracks do not communicate. The old guard knew this clock because they had no other clock to know. What they lost in charisma they gained in durability: a politician built over 20 years of parliamentary record is harder to dislodge with a single document because they have already survived thousands of documents. The new guard has not been stress-tested against its own paper trail. Sudan Gurung has now been tested, and the test is over, and the template has been written in his exit rather than his survival.&nbsp; A politician can enter office on the strength of a dance clip, and the same class of evidence — share registries, company filings, founding-shareholder lists at number 49 — that would have ended the career of a politician in a previous era of Nepali politics has ended his. The second clock got there. The feed did not save him. Or not entirely. Because the resignation itself is now in the feed. The Facebook post. The 46 brothers and sisters. The epic sign-off. Within hours of stepping down, Gurung had already re-enrolled his exit into the same register that put him in office. The clip of the Home Minister dancing in 2009 is still in circulation. The sofa photo still reads as sincerity. The investigation into the micro-insurance shares will move at the speed of Nepal's prosecutor's office, which is to say, at a speed the feed has long since outrun. The movement that installed Gurung in the name of ending elite capture has had its answer about whether its own hero is subject to the same audit it demanded of everyone else. He walked — or was walked — before the audit ran its course. The resignation was framed as moral choice rather than forced exit, and the framing is already winning. Whether that framing holds is the next test. Auramaxxing, it turns out, is a weapon that works in one direction only: it got him the job, and when the documents arrived, it did not save him. But it may yet save the person. These are not the same thing. If the technique is wounded, it is not yet dead. The next Nepali politician with a pre-political archive and a phone is watching how Gurung exits, not just how he entered. And the answer is: you exit the same way you entered: on Facebook. In your own voice. Before anyone else writes the caption. Whether he comes back is the thing to watch. Whether the technique does is already decided. &nbsp; &nbsp;

When Aura meets Audit

At 6 feet and one inch, Hira Bahadur Ghalan was exceptionally tall for a Nepali. In 1936, when people came to his Tamang village near Tistung looking for porters, they recruited him on the spot. This was no ordinary job, Hira Bahadur would lead gangs of 30 or more porters to carry cars bought by Rana rulers from Bhimphedi to Kathmandu.&nbsp; Those were the days when the only motorable roads in Nepal were in Kathmandu, but the capital was not connected to anywhere else by road. So, before cars could carry people, people had to carry cars. More Nepalis had carried cars than ridden in one. The porters were paid Rs5 for the job, and sometimes the Rana owners gave Hira Bahadur a Rs25 baksheesh. One of the cars his community helped carry was a 1939 Daimler Benz gifted by Adolf Hitler to King Tribhuvan to woo Nepal away from the British. The rusted dusty vehicle is now in the Narayanhiti Palace Museum.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur hauled cars for 25 years until his knees gave way, he died at age 90 eight years ago — the last surviving car porters of Nepal from Chitlang Valley.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur Ghalan had three sons and three daughters, one of them is Maila Kaji Lama, who at age 68, is a chauffeur in Kathmandu. His son, Manjil Lama is a pilot with Summit Air, flying to remote Himalayan airstrips. Three generations of one family worked in professions that followed a century of transportation history in Nepal. &nbsp; After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-long-and-winding-road-to-india">Tribhuvan Rajpath was finished in 1957</a> and the ropeway upgraded, Hira Bahadur was out of a job. He tilled the family farm, watching trucks and buses headed to and from Kathmandu on the hairpins.&nbsp; As a child, Maila Kaji was fascinated by cars and wished one day to be able to drive one. After he failed Grade 8, he came to Kathmandu in 1975 and got a Rs20/month job at a petrol station in Maiti Devi. “I watched King Birendra’s coronation and was impressed by the glamour of Kathmandu, and decided to stay here,” Maila Kaji says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1974" height="1608" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Maila Kaji</figcaption> </figure>  Former minister Ramesh Nath Pandey used to bring his Volkswagen Beetle to the station, and Maila Kaji started taking care of his car. Later, he drove a Russian Jeep for former minister and geographer Harka Gurung. Along the way, he fell in love with the daughter of a Brahmin colleague, and married her. “My father back in Tistung did not approve of our inter-ethnic marriage, and not speak to me for five years,” Maila Kaji recalls. Manjil Lama grew up in Kathmandu, and did well in science in school. He had wanted to go the US to become a pilot like his friends, but was denied a visa.&nbsp; “The visa officer told him I did not earn enough,” says Maila Kaji, “so I sold some property and sent Manjil to flying school in the Philippines.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537" data-rendition-name="original" width="1434" height="1754" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Manjil Lama</figcaption> </figure>  After returning to Nepal, Manjil Lama now flies Let 410s of Summit Air to difficult air strips like Lukla and Simkot, and has logged over 2,000 hours. He has to go to the Czech Republic regularly for simulator training. Says Maila Kaji Lama: “My father worked hard carrying cars to raise us, I started from scratch to become a driver to support my family, and my son is now a pilot with experience in flying in the world’s toughest terrain.” &nbsp; Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvT3iTi8yw4" target="_blank">video clip from S Dillon Ripley here</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="1582" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> </figure>

Grandfather carried cars, son drives cars, grandson flies planes

Only 70 years ago, Kathmandu was the isolated capital of a country that had no modern surface transport link with the rest of the world.&nbsp; The idea of building a road to connect Nepal with India actually first came up during the last years of the Rana regime, after the British had left India. Construction actually began in 1952, and the serpentine route took five years to complete.&nbsp; Named Tribhuvan Rajpath, after the reigning king who initiated it, the alignment was from Thankot (1,301 m) at the western edge of the Kathmandu Valley to Nagdunga, Naubise, Tistung, Palung, Daman, Sim Bhanjyang (2,504m), Lamidanda, and Bhainse.&nbsp; At Bhainse, the highway joined the existing road to Bhimphedi and it was another 31km to Hetauda and Amlekhganj. There was a railway line between Amlekhganj and Birganj.&nbsp; After regular bus and truck service from Raxaul to Kathmandu began in 1961, the entire road popularly became known as the Tribhuvan Rajpath.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_a11b48a75c7877a0f68634f8be07d26a3f354e78ebd9adddc7d17252fddf1d1b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041610044_a11b48a75c7877a0f68634f8be07d26a3f354e78ebd9adddc7d17252fddf1d1b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>The village of Chitlang on the main route to Kathmandu before the Rajpath was built. In the distance is the Chandragiri ridge above Thankot. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Chronology&nbsp;</h2> (Based on US State Department cables and media reports) November 1945: Gen Bahadur SJB Rana asked an American official if a road could be constructed from the Indian border to Kathmandu. Nepal wanted such a road built across the mountains after first constructing an East-West artery road in the Tarai, and the government was interested in purchasing US surplus war equipment. Gen Rana inquired if there were US firms who could conduct a survey. April 1947: The Nepal government told a US official it was important to upgrade the 20-mile trail from Bhimphedi over the mountains to the Kathmandu Valley into an all-weather road and sought an estimate from the US for doing so. May 1948: Bijaya SJB Rana informed a US official that a survey for a one-lane motor road between Kathmandu and the Tarai had been completed. The road was to follow the Bagmati River to Makwanpur, then connect at Bhimphedi with the road to Amlekhgunj. The road from Tripureswor to Bhainse along the Bagmati River and via Bhimphedi would have been about 60km. (The distance from Kathmandu on the Tribhuvan Rajpath is 122 km.)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_bb531baf5d73e00d2032814ac8abb86979a87d781abc066fcb984997aad930e6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041610044_bb531baf5d73e00d2032814ac8abb86979a87d781abc066fcb984997aad930e6" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>The road climbing the hills toward its destination of Kathmandu. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  July 1948: The government decided to go ahead and build a motorable road from Amlekhganj to Thankot and complete it in two years. December 1948: Construction of the motor road from Kathmandu to Amlekhgunj via the Bagmati River corridor was started. April 1949: Gen Singha SJB Rana told a US official that the motor road from Kathmandu to the Tarai and the Indo-Nepal border would be completed by the spring of 1950. February 1950: Nepal sanctioned Rs300,000 to make the 6-foot-wide road from Kathmandu along the Bagmati River to Hetauda. Of this, Rs100,000 was allocated for road-building material and machinery. Subsequently, the road would be developed into a broader motorable road at a cost of Rs7.5 million. February 1952: Nepal’s budget speech noted that a plan was underway for a road between Bhainse and Kathmandu. PM Matrika Prasad Koirala laid a foundation stone near Teku for construction of the ‘Kathmandu Hetauda Roadway’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_e66d3b81848ec19da48be8b41cacfa8b8e2bad093719b39eda27755c9616ea9a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041610044_e66d3b81848ec19da48be8b41cacfa8b8e2bad093719b39eda27755c9616ea9a" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Rajpath winding its way north of Bhainse. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  February 1952: A party of Indian engineers came to Nepal to determine the best route for a road from Raxaul to Kathmandu. March 1952: Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru told Parliament: “So far as India’s security is concerned, we consider the Himalayan mountains as our border.” Ministry of External Affairs official (S.N. Hakar) told a US official that the Indian government was willing to proceed with constructing the Raxaul-Kathmandu road and had sent a survey party to determine the most suitable mountain route. May 1952: Swiss experts had made surveys for a proposed new road between Bhimphedi and Thankot. Nepal government requested financial help to build the road, and India was considering the project.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_35e390c1a4812f45af7892d681230e04c63727d9006b6614ed79aaa7c22c1ece.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026041610044_35e390c1a4812f45af7892d681230e04c63727d9006b6614ed79aaa7c22c1ece" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>With a constant stream of trucks, buses and jeeps, the narrow Rajpath once was Nepal's busiest highway. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  Summer 1952: Work on a new road was at a standstill, so Nepal asked India for assistance. Indian engineers surveyed two routes: one following the Bagmati River, the other road through Daman that was later adopted. July 1952: Nepal’s Ministry of Planning decided to construct a road between Kathmandu and Raxaul, awaiting Cabinet approval soon. Prime Minister Matrika Koirala said the proposed road was longer than necessary, but it was a better route ‘for strategic reasons’, because it did not require many bridges. August 1952: King Tribhuvan said road construction from Kathmandu to Bhimphedi would “begin soon”. September 1952: An Indian Military Team began construction of the Kathmandu-Bhainse road without a formal agreement being signed with the Nepal government.&nbsp; February 1953: The Indian Ambassador said the road would be hard surfaced within a year. September 1953: Prime Minister Matrika Koirala inspected the completion of a ‘jeepable track’. December 1953: The road was named ‘Tribhuvan Rajpath’. April 1954: Reports circulated that Swiss engineers criticised the alignment, arguing it would have been easier, faster, and cheaper to build over the existing foot trail between Bhimphedi and Thankot through Kulekhani. July 1954: Heavy monsoon rain damaged much of the roadway that had been built.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_b5b2a1833f1366e532f1629f47c124d877df7b6f8a34b6c83f6c21ec3e4415dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026041610044_b5b2a1833f1366e532f1629f47c124d877df7b6f8a34b6c83f6c21ec3e4415dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="1123" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Crown Prince Mahendra inspecting construction progress on the Tribhuvan Rajpath in October 1954. Photo: ROYAL PALACE</figcaption> </figure>  November 1954: The Indian ambassador said flood damage was so great that the road would be delayed by two years. May 1955: Twenty military trucks brought rice from Amlekhganj to Kathmandu on the Tribhuvan Rajpath. King Tribhuvan died in Zurich. December 1956: A gravel road was completed, with trucks and buses plying between Amlekhganj and Kathmandu. December 1956: Nepal government abolished regulations that required Nepali nationals to carry permits for travel within Nepal, except for women below the age of 45. 1957: Reduction in price of goods carried to Kathmandu by truck: Sugar, Rs0.13 per kg. Wheat flour Rs0.13 per kg. Kerosene Rs0.25 per litre. February 1957: An article in The Motherland newspaper in Kathmandu noted urgent action was needed to avoid Kathmandu being cut off from the Tarai during the monsoon. The correspondent wrote, ‘In a recent journey from Amlekhganj I found that almost all the bridges are in a very bad state…Now, because of the dry rivers the scores of vehicles that ply the road cross the rivers on the water level. But during monsoons… these rivers will be impossible to cross without bridges. On the road itself, landslides and big holes have made the journey a great undertaking.” April 1957: The first regular passenger bus left Amlekhganj at 12:30PM and arrived in Kathmandu completing a journey of 14 hours.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_60807e067f2d0b80bdc5e59860e9bc240b495ef606efc9301ef54ea5731d42df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2026041610044_60807e067f2d0b80bdc5e59860e9bc240b495ef606efc9301ef54ea5731d42df" data-rendition-name="original" width="5211" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Daman, one of the highest points on the Rajpath, often saw snow in winter. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_baac4747267c751ab7b0e5ef24697fb5001c4c55e04a82d92c89282bd01a325c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026041610044_baac4747267c751ab7b0e5ef24697fb5001c4c55e04a82d92c89282bd01a325c" data-rendition-name="original" width="648" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Travelers could view the Himalayas from a view tower at Daman. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  June 1957: Eight thousand Nepali workers and about 500 Indian Army personnel were at work on the road.&nbsp; 30 June 1957: India officially handed the road over to Nepal. India had spent INR32.5 million on the project.&nbsp; January 1958: The road from Amlekhganj to Bhainse was upgraded. July 1961: The gravel road from Raxaul to Birganj was blacktopped. Trucks began transporting goods from Raxaul directly to Kathmandu, avoiding the need for transshipment from train to truck in Amlekhganj, or use the ropeway from Bhimphedi. 1961: Passengers could travel from Raxaul to Kathmandu in a day, whereas it took a week by train to Amlekhganj, bus to Bhimphedi and then on foot. September 1962: Nepal’s 3-Year Plan aimed at broadening and black-topping the road between Bhainse and Raxaul, bypassing the Chure tunnel, and constructing several bridges along the route. 1963: Travelers going to Kathmandu by land: Road, 158,000, Nepal Government Railway, 66,500. Railway passenger service ended in June 1965.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_2a95eb144dad74271a0fa3a27fab6b45bbab0a1c4be59d21120ad14c08e258fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2026041610044_2a95eb144dad74271a0fa3a27fab6b45bbab0a1c4be59d21120ad14c08e258fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1344" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>A bus providing ‘deluxe service’ in 1963 is ready to leave Amlekhganj for Kathmandu. Note the railway tracks of the Nepal Government Railway. Photo: RON ELLIOTT</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_d02013692e84d6add7a6e0ce66c2b552cd53bb084db2aa8df0593bbcf84c2c04.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2026041610044_d02013692e84d6add7a6e0ce66c2b552cd53bb084db2aa8df0593bbcf84c2c04" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1352" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Vehicles found it difficult to pass on many parts of the Rajpath in 1963. Photo: RON ELLIOTT</figcaption> </figure>  1965: Tribhuvan Highway was considered a useful addition to Nepal’s economic infrastructure, but it could not act as a prime mover in the nation’s economic development. It did play a major role in the 1960s in transporting material and equipment needed to implement development projects in the Kathmandu Valley. September 1966: Nepal took over maintenance of the Tribhuvan Rajpath from the Indian Aid Mission.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_5488ba1e92f6395ff882392ccbaef2270622632682eccb412d8de7b128f6f397.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2026041610044_5488ba1e92f6395ff882392ccbaef2270622632682eccb412d8de7b128f6f397" data-rendition-name="original" width="1764" height="1184" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Trees still lined the Rajpath near Thankot in 1967. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  1971: A UN-Nepal study said the best alignment for an alternative road was from Kathmandu, Pharping, Kulekhani, Bhimphedi to Bhainse. 1975: Nepal's Department of Roads’ engineer concluded: ‘The Tribhuvan Rajpath has been built without design speed consideration… The pavement was not constructed to any designed standard… irrespective of quality of material, and later the road was black topped without consideration of traffic intensity and load-bearing capacity of sub-base… utilisation of low-quality material in the Bhainse-Thankot section… Quality control was neither maintained in Bhainse-Thankot nor the Bhainse-Raxaul section. Local materials were used irrespective of their quality to complete the work in the earliest possible time and in the cheapest possible manner. Brick work was done in negligible quantity. Cement used was ordinary portland cement…’ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_26c74f45991efb3dc29d616e8acafb3163661ae6573c5314538e59c54d5ca0a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2026041610044_26c74f45991efb3dc29d616e8acafb3163661ae6573c5314538e59c54d5ca0a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2368" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Bhainse in 2017. The road divided here, one going to Bhimphedi on the right, the main road proceeding to Kathmandu on the left. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260416100416_4d9321abf4d912796842fe963a493501e1aceff462300ecdd9bd5e0b8ba7f294.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260416100416_4d9321abf4d912796842fe963a493501e1aceff462300ecdd9bd5e0b8ba7f294" data-rendition-name="original" width="649" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Highway info NT"> </figure>  Even 70 years after it was built, there is still speculation about India's security concerns vis-a-vis China, and how Indian Army engineers purposely made the road longer than it needed to be over the 2,500 Sim Bhanjyang pass instead of following the river route.&nbsp; There is also some evidence that although the Rana regime had first requested the US for help with the highway, Nehru did not want the Americans involved in Nepal. Which is why the Tribhuvan Highway became an Indian military project.&nbsp; There was similar concern from India about the Kodari Highway linking Kathmandu to China, and King Mahednra is famously supposed to have said: "Communism will not come here in a taxi."&nbsp; Geopolitics still affects Nepal's strategic highways. After decades, links to China are still rough and often blocked. Kathmandu-Tarai Fast Track is delayed by years, and not expected to be completed during this decade. Trucks and buses still bypass the Tribuvan Highway with a 200km detour via Mugling because the other alternative routes like the Tika Bhairav or Chhaimale routes are not suitable for heavy vehicles.&nbsp; The shortcut through Chitlang that the Swiss proposed in the 1950s is still too difficult. And a 25km section of the Japanese-built BP Highway to the eastern Tarai has been knocked out by the 202 flood. Dan Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. This is the fourth instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal.

The long and winding road to India

The series Nepal Made profiles Nepali products and the people who make them possible.&nbsp; Named after the mythical bird-like creature, GarudX is Nepal’s first precision manufacturer of UAV platforms. They offer a wide range of drone products and services.&nbsp; Last month, GarudX won first place at the US-Nepal Startup Weekend Challenge, a three-day accelerator-style program that gathered 25 of Nepal’s most promising early-stage companies.&nbsp; These include custom drones, cinematography, virtual tours, first-person-view (FPV), drone racing, 3D reconstruction, ground control software, and drone light shows. “I think they liked that we pitched the company as a Drone Enterprise System, as a company providing large-scale, integrated drone services,” says Dipawoli Malla, an AI software engineer with GarudX.&nbsp; The company sees a lot of potential in AI-based aerial computer vision, which is already used for infrastructure planning and land surveys, and could be vital in tracking wildlife poachers and assisting search and rescue during disasters.&nbsp; “Our vision for the company has always been to be the one stop solution for every drone problem,” says GarudX CEO Avash Thapa, who also oversees video production. &nbsp; Drones have gained high profile in the past five years due to their widespread adoption in war. While they do work with the Nepali army, GarudX wants to focus on the idea of drone for good. For Nepal, the potential is great for civilian applications especially because of the country’s terrain. Past efforts have been experimental, like a project to deliver tuberculosis treatment in Piuthan in 2019, and for wildlife censuses in Chitwan. Journalists now regularly use drone footage to get a bird’s-eye view for investigative stories on illegal sand-mining or delays in infrastructure projects. Drones were vital during the GenZ protests last September, in which aerial videos provided clues about what actually happened when the crowd surged towards Parliament. They also captured the dramatic aftermath of the destruction of government buildings featured in this paper. “A lot of people do not know or appreciate that drones are also made in Nepal,” notes Malla. “We export a lot of technology as software. It is a big achievement that we can also export hardware.”&nbsp; GarudX was informally started and active on social media since 2018, and officially registered as GarudX Multipurpose in 2024. Founder and Managing Director Adarsha Raj Bhusal had experience working with robotics and FPV drones when he launched the company, as an engineering group interested in custom-built high-performance aerial robotics.&nbsp; “I design our products,” says Bhusal. “We send designs to China where they are manufactured as individual parts. Costs are low when importing from China. Then we assemble and sell them here. It's a system that works well for us.”&nbsp; Among the UAVs GarudX makes include the Skyreaper, which is a long-range drone with advanced obstacle sensing; the GX8 Pyro which is Nepal’s first cinema-grade cinelifter; and the Aether Zoom which is a 4K UAV camera designed for tactical, industrial, or reconnaissance missions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260423070452_ee600bb10eb74eedc5c9cc1ad425f201172ad987d6e0cecf1b3288220fed9b29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260423070452_ee600bb10eb74eedc5c9cc1ad425f201172ad987d6e0cecf1b3288220fed9b29" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="GarudX"> </figure>  NO CERTIFICATION The main obstacle to GarudX's growth has been the lack of a national certification system. Permits to use drones are convoluted and require applications to various government agencies.&nbsp; “We miss out on so many international projects, for national park footage for example, since there is no way to get our drones registered — even after the army thoroughly checks our craft,” says Adarsha Raj Bhusal. GarudX says it now has the capacity to export its drones overseas at competitive prices, but Nepal does not have a registration system in place. “We can’t legally ship them,” says Avaya Pokharel, Chief Operating Officer who oversees service and repairs.&nbsp; With a new RSP government in place with an ambitious blueprint for digitisation, things could soon change. Relevant bodies are the Home Ministry, the Civil Aviation Authority and the Ministry of Defence because of privacy, aviation safety and national security issues.&nbsp; “There are meetings going on, and there is hope that progress will be made. Of course we want certification to be easy, but it is hard for the government as they have to understand the technology and what is coming in future,” says Bhusal.&nbsp; Legislation could look like a Remote ID system to register every drone. It could also specify pilot verification, placing limitations on what a pilot can do based on their skill level. It could also look at revising drone policies in the capital. Most of Kathmandu Valley is technically a no-fly zone for drones at present because of the concentration of government buildings, army bases and the international airport flight path. To comply with current regulations, GarudX has focused on lightweight FPV drones: small, nimble craft that can be maneuvered at high speed in tight spaces, operated by a pilot wearing immersive goggles. This results in exciting fast-paced footage, particularly useful for clients like Redbull or vehicle companies.&nbsp; “It feels like you are flying,” testifies Bhusal, who has flown FPV for commercials and movies, and ranks way ahead of runner ups in drone races. His work can be seen @adars_fpv on Instagram.&nbsp; The company has built a community of FPV drone racers, and is working with the government to certify it as a sports competition. It holds race events at colleges in Kathmandu and also consults for FPV events in in India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260417150440_43b27b1b6890e47028c5e780c2ed0147a057f625d9d551221ddbd504dc03a356.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260417150440_43b27b1b6890e47028c5e780c2ed0147a057f625d9d551221ddbd504dc03a356" data-rendition-name="original" width="923" height="619" loading="lazy" alt="garudx"> </figure>  MULTIPURPOSE&nbsp; Drones can be versatile tools, but they are particularly helpful in Nepal and the Himalaya. Powerful drones have been used for the last two years to transport ropes and ladders up Mt Everest to reduce the dangers on the Khumbu Icefall, and to bring trash down. If scaled with many pilots and drones, this could be a complete solution to the Everest trash problem while massively reducing risk to human lives.&nbsp; GarudX has also tested its products in the mountains. A recent blog entry on their website is titled, ‘Flying at 6,120m: What We Learned Testing Drones on Lobuche Peak’. They document the process of using different battery tricks and propellers to see what combination allows for more flight time in the thin, cold air.&nbsp; It is refreshing to see a Nepali company making such progress in a unique industry while also documenting advances.&nbsp;

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