<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fa99c7e80680e0c252ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"/><figcaption>A healthy, diverse natural forest in Chitwan with three vegetation layers. All phoos: LILA NATH SHARMA.</figcaption></figure>It was sunny afternoon in December in 2018, I was sitting on a pile of logs at the Janakalyan Community Forest Office in Nawalparasi, waiting for its chair Kabiram Bhandari. I had just finished a three-day survey in the forest that his community had protected since 1996.It had not been easy to formally manage and protect aforest on which villagers depended on for fodder and fuel. At that time, the forest was severely degraded due to Illegal felling, encroachment, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/protecting-nepals-forests-from-fires/">wildfires.</a>It took Bhandari, with support from the District Forest Office (DFO), 20 years to formally hand over the management of the forest to the local community. The logging mafia was livid, and he got multiple threats.With the declaration of the community forest, encroachment stopped, logging declined, villagers collectively controlled wildfires, and underserved communities at the edge of the jungle were provided access to forest products.Women and indigenous groups were represented in forest management, local institutions were strengthened and revenue from the sale of forest products were channeled into maintaining roads, water supply and supporting schools.This story of one community forest in Nawalparasi is shared by thousands of such locally protected forests around Nepal, and is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests/">a success story</a> that has won international acclaim and contributed to Nepal’s forest area <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous/">doubling in the past 25 years</a> through forest protection and restoration for biodiversity conservation though decentralised and participatory management.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fad9c7e80680e0c252bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kabiram Bhandari arrived, smiling as usual, and asked if I had finished my assessment of his forest. I could sense that he was expecting an affirmation of his struggle to protect and manage his community forest.A forest is not just a clump of trees to count and measure their girth in cubic feet, and convert that at prevailing hardwood timber prices into rupees. A forest is a social, ecological and evolutionary organism. Instead of counting trees in a forests, my training in biodiversity made me count the number of species: how many of them are rare and threatened species of plants or animals, how many are non-native.The condition of a forest is different depending on what parameters we use to examine it. Tree data within a forest is therefore a manifestation of national priority of community forests, and in this case a report card for the effort of people like Kabiram Bhandari in Nawalparasi – and the paradoxical goals of protected and unprotected forests and Nepal.To protect, but how?Nepal’s community management of forests started with <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12130#.YsmZvi9Q1CA">a few pilot projects in the late 1970s</a>, and was soon <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/community-forest-comes-in-handy-earthquake-reconstruction,2927">replicated nationwide</a> in later years. It has since been widely hailed as a model of forest protection and biodiversity conservation.However, the protectionist approach of forest management is also biased in favour of high value species to the detriment of varieties that are deemed or perceived to be of inferior value.The Dipad Community forest in Makawanpur district had recently been subjected to the much contested concept of ‘scientific forest management’. The custodians of the community forest regarded its shrubs, vines and climbers as not being ‘good’ for the forest. In fact, the undergrowth in this ‘scientifically managed’ forest was made up of only sal seedlings and saplings.Further east, the Jalthal Community Forest of Jhapa district looked more like a monoculture plantation of sal trees. “See, there are no bushes, no thorns,” said the management committee’s Chiranjibi Poudel.Be it Nawalparasi, Makawanpur, Jhapa or other other community managed forests of Nepal’s Tarai, the story is the same ­— the drive to protect sal at the cost of other species. There were fewer tree species with higher commercial value in them.In the Nawalparasi forest, for example, of the 141 tree trunks I measured, 133 were of sal. The other eight species were badkamle, kyamuna, siris and putalikath. Sal makes up 94% of the species also in other Tarai community forests, which are devoid of shrub or liana.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb19c7e80680e0c252cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="624" height="416"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12130#.YsmZvi9Q1CA">The greening of Nepal</a>, Marty LoganThe Jalthal Community Forest in Jhapa is a rectangular block 10 km long and 5.5 km wide, spanning about 6,000 hectares and located at the lowest elevation in Nepal. Jalthal is currently being managed by 22 community forest user groups and has biodiversity that is disproportionate to its physical area.Jalthal appears at first glance to be well conserved by communities. Encroachment by squatters and influential people has been stopped. Tree density has increased, with thicker canopy cover. There are fewer forest fires, poaching of wildlife and timber have been controlled. Collection of fuel and fodder is regulated, and revenue from the forest is invested in inclusive local development.The downside is that forest biodiversity has not been adequately protected, and degradation has continued. Invasive plants are affecting the indigenous vegetation of which there are only a handful of mature individuals left. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/protecting-pangolins-from-being-eaten-to-extinction/">The critically endangered pangolin</a> is still being illegally hunted. Community forest management does not adequately consider these biodiversity aspects of protection.The very name Jalthal implies that the forest has wetlands within it, but not much priority is given to protecting these water bodies which support biodiversity. Wild stands of latahar tree found in Eastern Nepal and eastward up to Malaysia are being depleted, with an absence of its sapling layer.Tree density has increased, but with an overwhelming share of sal. The forest is therefore homogenising. Even old growth stands of sal have been modified to make them look like a plantation forest. Healthy forests are supposed to be mixed species, but the story of Nepal’s community forestry is one of selective protection of certain species to the detriment of others.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb39c7e80680e0c252djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A clean monoculture forest that looks like a plantation of exotic species is not what a community forest is supposed to be. Local people rely on forests daily for diverse products, with fodder being the most important. On typical day this spring, more than 2,000 people entered the Jalthal forest mostly for fodder and firewood.In the monsoon, over 500 people visit the forest everyday just to collect fiddlehead fern and other leafy vegetables.We found that people entered the forest for 12 types of products ranging from mushrooms to medicinal plants, edibles to timber.A ‘scientifically managed’ forest does not support these needs, and prioritises timber species for special protection. Liana like bhorla and bebre lahara and small trees like khasreto are not seen much anymore. Important fodder trees like kutmero, sadan and khanyu have declined. In fact, besides sal, there is a proliferation of eucalyptus and teak.Community forests are designed to support local needs, while managing and improving the vegetation. Given their multifunctional nature, Nepal’s community forests were supposed to promote diversity and coexistence of multiple species. Higher diversity entails wider ecosystem services and resilience.Managing forests only for timber overlooks the dependence of local people for a wider spectrum of ecosystem services. Besides timber, high value introduced medicinal plants are also the focus of forest management like lemon grass and citronella, turmeric oil to bio briquette, rhododendron juice to paper plates.Promoting enterprise and generating income is not a bad thing in itself, but this cannot be done at the expense of protecting an indigenous forest. I have seen a dozen or so community forests where local people have benefited from these new forest products, but only from daily wages, not to fulfil their traditional needs. Promotion of fodder trees, for example, would have been much more useful.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fb69c7e80680e0c252ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>How we understand a forest shapes our management objectives, decisions and routine activities.What was the original goal of Nepal’s community forestry program? Why have forests in the Tarai and elsewhere adopted similar management methods irrespective of local conditions and needs?Out definition of a forest seems to be restricted to having as many high value trees and medicinal plants as possible. There is rarely any attention paid to preserving biodiversity. The status of a forest does not just depend on a tree census, but past management of community sal forests focused mainly on maintaining or increasing tree density and cover. A ‘successful’ forest was one with increased density of sal, overlooking the forest as a complex ecosystem.Preferential protection of sal is an outcome of our policies and worldview on forests that treats a forest only as an economic resource, not an ecological treasure. The result is promotion of only high value species, be it timber or herbs, and overlooks wider spectrum of forest ecosystem services.Hariyo Ban Nepal ko Dhan was a popular slogan in Nepal’s forestry development in the 1980s. The word dhan ended up monetising forests. A new motto now is Ban Marfat Samriddi (prosperity through forests)and this is the thinking that has turned forests into a resource to be mined for timber.Nepal’s decade-long scientific forest management initiative was finally abandoned last year, but not before it hailed regeneration density in logged areas as a success, even when it was found that the original forest had been replaced by sal saplings. Treated blocks were poorer in species diversity compared to the original forests.The original conservation-oriented approach of forest management in community forests focused on retaining trees, and increasing crown and tree density. But the increase in density of the common most structural species was an outcome of the preferential protection by both Forest Department and user groups.A native sal forest is truly diverse in its associated flora and fauna with at least three vertical layers of vegetation. The canopy later has the taller trees, medium-sized trees make up the sub-canopy layer, and then there are shrubs and grasses in the forest floor which changes with the seasons.In tropical forests, liana, vines and climbers make up another important component, with some of them woody, massive and long lived – mainly in sal riverine forests. Old growth trees also support orchids and ferns with some sal supporting as many as seven species of orchids. Some trees have up to four species of ferns.Old growth forests are also rich habitats for birds, amphibians, reptiles and many insects like beetle and spiders. Old trees have cavities in the trunks and branches which shelter for animals like monitor lizards, owls, wood peckers, parrots and hornbills. Higher up in the food chain are the bigger mammals. Diversity in vegetation entails diversity in fauna as well.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/protecting-nepals-forests-from-fires/">Protecting Nepal’s forests from fires</a>, Dev Narayan Mandal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413118/63722fba9c7e80680e0c252fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1333"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal’s forests are multipurpose, and people depend on them for a range of direct and indirect products. A sal is itself a multipurpose tree. A mixed and diverse forest not only delivers multiple services we need, but also has higher resilience to cope with climate uncertainty and plays a vital role in meeting food security.Today’s high value timber forest could not be further removed from the concept of what a natural forest should be. But it also has to be said that without community management, even these forests would probably be degraded and encroached.Our forests need to reflect the need to adapt to the climate emergency, and not just meet the economic needs of communities and the nation. We should build on Nepal’s community forestry success to restore natural woodlands.We therefore need to reimagine our forests. How an ecologist regards a forest is different from how an economist sees it. Nevertheless, sustainable forest management can balance diversity with meeting the need for revenue.This means conserving a forest with original biodiversity that also meets local needs. Such a forest would be diverse enough to sustain a wide spectrum of biota. Maintaining diversity does not cost more, in fact it protects Nepal’s natural wealth for this and future generations.Lila Nath Sharma has PhD in ecology from University of Bergen Norway and is with ForestAction Nepal.

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Safeguarding the soul of sal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd1KeYcDjcg&amp;feature=youtu.beKathmandu was described by early expats as an ‘emerald valley’. During the monsoon, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/not-so-soon-monsoon/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">terrace paddy fields</a> and forested hills carpeted the basin in verdant shades of green.Today, there is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-vanishing-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">barely any green spaces left</a>. But in a small way, Spanish artist Iñigo Iriarte is out to change that. ‘Indi’, as the Pamplona native likes to be called (in photo below), paints walls with a palette of living plants.His geotextile canvas is a moist fabric wall alive with leaves and roots, flowers and fruits, water, air and colonies of tiny living creatures. The vertical gardens are living art with broad strokes of a variety of green and tufts of vivid moss, daubs of purple, orange or white where flowers have bloomed.Read also:<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rooftop-gardens-kathmandu,1415" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hanging gardens of Kathmandu</a>, Santa Gaha Magar<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-vanishing-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Vanishing land</a>, Taylor MasonIriarte borrows heavily from expressionist tendencies when he paints on stretched canvas. Similarly, these living compositions speak of the artist's dual love for the city and nature, but also of how they struggle to coexist.Iriarte moved to Kathmandu two years ago with his wife and found reasons and an opportunity here to venture beyond his indoor paint-and-canvas studio into open space. It all started after he was invited to not just paint the inside wall of a spa at Shaligram Hotel, but also cover a blank white wall in the courtyard with a vertical garden.The result was a stunning green wall stretching across a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">dhara spout</a> and basin like an oasis. A sudden calming presence, perfect preparation for a spa client to experience a restful treatment to come.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814114/636a54729c7e80680e0523adjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="836" height="1400"/>Kathmandu’s latitude is subtropical, but its altitude lends a distinctive climate, rich with summer rain and cooled with dry winters. There is enough moisture and warmth for plants to thrive, so a cityscape of blank walls and hard surfaces could easily be regreened by vertical gardens.Iñigo Iriarte is inspired by French botanist Patrick Blanc, a pioneer of vertical gardens, but takes an ecosystem approach to his selection of plants. Many vertical gardens fail because they are ornamental and used for a wow effect, with little regard for how individual plants like to grow.Iriarte optimises nature’s own tendencies to create resilient ecosystems and microclimates that regulate themselves. He selects plants and places them according to natural growth patterns: those that prefer drier root biomes are higher, where there may be less water. Plants that thrive in wetter conditions are placed lower on the wall.He does not pander to those who just want a green wall — he will leave space free for moss and other unidentified free loaders to take residence on nutrient-rich walls. Sometimes, parasitic plants hitch a ride on their nursery hosts and take root alongside them, becoming part of the family. Occasionally, plants fail and need to be replaced.One of Iriarte’s sites, at the rooftop Rain Restaurant in Jawalakhel, is alive with over 25 varieties, from orchids to monstera, ferns to succulents, bromeliads to bamboo and surprisingly — on a wall of matted fibre and root substrates of crumpled fabric — fruiting citrus plants. There is also rosemary, happily sticking to its sunny spot on the south facing wall. “Plant health and happiness, and their ensuing resilience, is key,” explains Iriarte.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/something-fishy-in-new-nepal-farm/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Something fishy in new Nepal farm</a>, Hrijata Dahal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110814114/636a54759c7e80680e0523aejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The wall at Rain is based on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/something-fishy-in-new-nepal-farm/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">aquaponics</a> and recycles water from a fish tank below the plants to the microbially dense geotextile wall. The wall acts as a biofilter to convert water rich in ammonia from fish waste into water rich with nitrates and other nutrients that the plants can absorb, thus making it clean and safe enough to be returned to the fish tank in a water cycle.Rain’s managing partner Tara Adhikari plucks sprigs of rosemary or fruits from the tiny lime tree for some of his classy cocktails, saying: “We make good cocktails because of the freshness of the ingredients we use, some of which come from Indi’s wall. A vertical garden is a new concept in Nepal, and we took a risk, but the guests like it.”Every installation is different, tailored to its context, taking into account aspect, exposure to the elements and purpose. For the three walls Iriarte has installed in Kathmandu, including a testing bed at home, all the hardware and plants are locally sourced.“It would be great to see plants of the surrounding mountains here to green the city using the least space possible and with maximum effect in cleaning the air and creating calm living environments for people and other living creatures,” says Iriarte.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Between existence and extinction in Nepal</a>, Sonia AwaleNot many other countries can boast a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/between-existence-and-extinction-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">landscape as three-dimensional and vertical</a> as Nepal, and it is fitting that even as Kathmandu is built up, vertical walls can help it reclaim some greenery and bring back plants, birds, insects and microbes to coexist with humans.Instagram: the_vertical_ garden_architect

Garden walls

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a218d9c7e80680e041748jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1052"/><figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>After degraded forests were leased out to local communities to protect and manage 40 years ago, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7116#.XC7zVFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s community forestry program</a> has won international praise for restoring the country’s tree cover.Barren hillsides have been replaced by thick forests, wildlife has returned, and farmers have prospered because of ample fuelwood and fodder. The 2015 Forest Resource Assessment showed that Nepal’s canopy cover increased from 29% in the 1990s to 45%, representing more than 1 billion tons of carbon stock.Although depopulation of rural Nepal due to migration played a part in reducing the pressure on forests, much of the credit goes to the 22,000 or more Community Forest User Groups across the country.“Community forestry under the 1993 Forest Act was an exemplary participatory model and a highly democratic exercise that gave villagers a clear mandate to protect, manage and utilise their forests,” says Bharat Gotame of WWF Nepal. “This gave local communities a sense of ownership, and they put in a lot of effort to protect and expand Nepal’s forest cover.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19200&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fixing what ain't broke</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19252&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's silent emergency: springs going dry</a>, Ajay DixitNow, as the trees mature into commercially valuable timber, the emphasis has shifted from forest protection to its management. The question is: who should manage the forests in Nepal’s federal structure?<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21909c7e80680e041749jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2544" height="1222"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some forestry experts believe not enough was done to train local communities in the scientific management of trees to prevent degradation and fires, and picking suitable tree species.“We focused solely on preservation, and as a result forest coverage increased without contributing to the economy,” says Krishna Acharya, joint secretary at the Ministry of Forests and Environment. “Our next step should be to see how natural resources can yield economic benefit for local communities.”However, environmentalists argue that nature should be protected for its own sake, and to look for narrow economic returns from conservation is myopic. If the contribution of new growth forests to eco-system services for water supply, tourism and as a carbon sink are calculated, they say the economic contribution of Nepal’s community forestry is vast.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Municipalities want to manage Annapurna</a>, Yuvaraj Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19229&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hiking up the benefits of tourism</a>, Sangmin KimThey also add that forest management works well in countries with greater transparency. Given the level of corruption in Nepal, especially after many <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">contractors got themselves elected</a> mayors, rural municipalities have been exploiting natural resources. Allowing community forests to be ‘managed’ would destroy the forests.The 2015 Constitution placed national forests under the authority of the provincial governments, but it also listed national forests as the common right of federal, provincial and local governments. Then the Local Government Operation Act of 2017 provided rural municipalities the right to protect, use, manage, monitor, regulate as well as formulate and implement laws. These contradictory provisions have created confusion about who now owns forests.To make matters worse, the recently drafted Forest Bill curtails the rights of Community Forest User Groups, the very elected local committees that were responsible for protecting the forests under the 1993 Forest Act.For example, the new bill purposes that local user groups cannot sell extra forest products without permission of the government, unlike in the past when they could independently fix prices, sell timber and other products from their protected forests.“Greater accountability at the local level helped us save the forests, but the new bill attempts to undermine that very foundation of our success,” says Bharati Pathak, chair of the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN). She warns that the bill will result in widespread deforestation, with negative impact on the environment, biodiversity, tourism and local livelihoods.Community forests have been threatened ever since local and provincial elections last year. Many contractors, loggers and quarry owners got themselves elected to local councils, and cases of poaching, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17226#.XC7zVlUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">illegal logging</a> and encroachment into community forests have shot up.Back in Singha Darbar, joint secretary Krishna Acharya says forests will actually thrive under federalism because elected governments will be closer to community forests, and thus have better oversight over its protection.In theory, that makes sense. But activists argue that stricter laws have never translated into conservation. Federalism has decentralised corruption, and the forests do not stand a chance.The reason Nepal’s community forestry program worked was because of local user committees. Transferring ownership and management to municipal or provincial councils, or interference from Kathmandu, will invite corruption and destruction of forests.Activists say such confusion over jurisdiction could wreck Nepal’s achievements in community-based forest conservation, and add that some things ought to be left alone.“Whoever ends up managing the forests, the functional modality of the community forestry program that transcended political and administrative boundaries should not be dismantled,” states the former Director General of the Department of Forests, Bijaya Paudel. “If we do, all our efforts and investment will come to naught, and the very thing we take pride in, our green forests, will be lost once again.”Paudel recommends that the government include local communities for consultation in decision making, because without user groups there will be no preservation, let alone sustainable management for economic benefits.The advice of the WWF’s Bharat Gotame is similar: “Give credit to local people for the protection of forests for the last four decades, and build on that with better management and ensure communities are accountable.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/climate-climax,3651" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Climate climax</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/climate-for-change/the-great-himalayan-thaw/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The great Himalayan thaw</a>, Ajay Dixit

Sonia Awale

Who now owns Nepal's forests?

From stone spouts to cast-iron mains, Nepal’s water system and its struggle to provide safe water tells a larger story of power, disease, dependency — and lessons for the future. From 1823 to 1891, the Nepali state made just two notable interventions in Kathmandu’s drinking water system. The first was when Prime Minister Bhimsen Thapa commissioned a stone pout (hiti) to tap groundwater within the valley’s traditional supply system. The second came nearly 70 years later with Nepal’s first industrial-era water system, the Bir Water Works in 1891 under Prime Minister Bir Shumsher Rana. Linking these two milestones was the spectre of cholera. From the 19th century on there were seven global cholera pandemics. <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0264410X19309995#bb0325" target="_blank">Originating in Asia</a>, the disease reached Europe and the Americas, the Vibrio cholera bacillus breeding in poor sanitation wherever it found it. The first wave erupted in 1817, followed by others in 1829, 1852, 1863, 1881, 1889 and, finally, in 1961, the seventh pandemic which still lingers on. London, the epicentre of the Industrial Revolution, was repeatedly stricken. In Britain ‘miasma’ foul air was blamed. &nbsp;In Nepal, cholera was seen as divine damnation. By the late 19th century, as Nepal’s relationship with Britain deepened, the Bir Water Works was inaugurated in 1891 as a defence against cholera. Whether cholera also shaped Bhimsen Thapa’s decision in 1823 is less clear. Contemporary records note the commissioning of Sundhara, but do not refer to the cholera epidemic raging at the time. The silence itself is telling: Nepal’s elites were ruling in the shadow of the disease. Bhimsen Thapa first resided in Thapathali Palace, which was built in 1802 by Nain Singh Thapa, father of Mathabarsingh Thapa, who would briefly become prime minister in the 1840s. In 1806, Bhimsen Thapa moved to Bagh Durbar, a new complex on the western edge of Tundikhel. Historians are vague about the water supply in the residences of the nobility, but wells and water hauled from rivers, ponds, canals, and other sources were likely the primary sources. A small hiti north of Bagh Durbar, near today’s Sun Dhara, may have supplied the palace. In 1823, Bhimsen Thapa had it enlarged, making it the last and largest state-built hiti in Kathmandu. Even as Bhimsen Thapa was involved in palace intrigues and border conflicts, Britain was engineering pipelines. By the late 18th century, Sir Thomas Simpson had invented the bell-and-spigot joint, making long-distance pipes viable. Fluid dynamics, dealing with pumps, pipes, and filters, was becoming a foundational discipline. In Kathmandu, the scourge continued. Cholera struck Kathmandu repeatedly, in 1862, 1867, 1872, 1874 and 1875. The 1872 epidemic, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-in-the-time-of-cholera" target="_blank">according to historian Tom Robertson</a>, claimed between 200 and 250 lives a day. On average, cholera killed between 1,200 and 1,500 people annually in Kathmandu Valley, an enormous toll for its small population. The summer of 1885 was especially calamitous: a cholera epidemic ravaged Kathmandu and its periphery from the beginning of June until late August. The disease even breached the royal palace, reportedly killing 23 people, mostly young girls. Records show that 909 people received treatment at the British Residency dispensary, and estimates suggest that as many as 10,000 people perished in a city of 50,000. In November that year, Bir Shumsher seized power in a coup. He inherited not only a premiership but a Valley ridden with disease. Cholera was endemic, and it was accompanied by typhoid, smallpox, goitre, syphilis, and chronic dyspepsia. The The British Residency dispensary at Lainchaur was inadequate. “In a poor country like ours, wealth means health,” Bir Shumsher remarked, an unusually pragmatic admission that epidemics were not divine punishment but structural afflictions of urban life. He soon pledged to expand health care. In 1889, he opened Bir Hospital and staffed it with Indian doctors to treat cholera, typhoid, smallpox, and other prevalent illnesses. PIPED WATER Bir Shumsher also recognised the need for safe drinking water. Between 1866 and 1872, he had served as Nepal’s ambassador in Calcutta, and he must have seen water mains already in operation there, and a filtration plant inaugurated in 1870. Madras had installed such a system as early as 1800, Bombay constructed the Vihar and Tulsi reservoirs in the mid-19th century. In Kathmandu British Residency personalities such as George Gimlette must have urged Bir’s government to quicken the construction of the hospital and water system, yet the archival traces of such exchanges still await historical scrutiny. By the late 19th century, the British had developed a technological ecosystem for water supply, intakes, pipes, fittings, reservoirs, and trained engineers. Bir Shumsher appealed to the British Government in India for engineering assistance. A British engineer named Mr Feigneur surveyed Kathmandu to prepare maps, and estimated the volume of water that could be brought from the Rudramati River. In 1889, a more experienced engineer, Lockhart Matthew Sinclair arrived. He was a Scotsman educated at Wellington College and the Royal Indian Engineering College, with prior experience in constructing waterworks in Jubbulpore and the Viceregal Palace in Shimla. Appointed State Engineer of Nepal (1889–1892), Sinclair reviewed Feigneur’s plans, updated them, and chose the Bishnumati River as the source of the city’s drinking water. Sinclair’s design included a reservoir at Panipokhari, at 1,330m elevation and 30m above &nbsp;Tundikhel, thereby enabling gravity-fed distribution in pipes. With a capacity of 7,327 cubic metres, the reservoir could store nine days of supply.&nbsp; The system was designed to serve about 70,000 residents through both private connections and public standpipes. The reservoir was a single-compartment tank with an arched brick roof covered in earth and turf. Its brick walls were bonded with lime mortar and aggregate, and its floor was dressed with fly stone. Work on the valley’s water supply began in 1888, three years after Bir Shumsher seized power. The following year, Bir Hospital and the Bir Water Works took shape. The project involved some 40km of imported cast-iron pipes, weighing 1.866 million kg and inscribed with the marks of Scottish foundries ‘Ally and McLean’ and ‘Glasgow’. Construction required 620,000 man-days of labour and cost over Rs600,000. Transport costs inflated prices: <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">a load of cement</a> costing Rs10 in Calcutta was worth Rs33 by the time it reached Kathmandu. Bir Water Works was inaugurated in September 1891, six years after the cholera epidemic. Water flowed out of 131 taps, including eight in Lainchaur, six in the royal palace, eleven in the prime minister’s palace, sixteen around Tundikhel, thirteen in Thapathali, seven in Thamel, and two in Naxal. The system’s designation, the term ‘works’ , echoes the Chelsea, Calcutta, and Glasgow Water Works, underlining its industrial pedigree. Water was also supplied to Phora Durbar, Bir Shumsher’s palace of music and dance whose fountains sprayed rose-scented water in a display of opulence. The <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-" target="_blank">Bir Dhara Works</a> was more than an engineering scheme: it was Nepal’s first modern public-health intervention. Safer drinking water curbed waterborne disease, and the number of cholera outbreaks declined, but were not eliminated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260103020144_d5c22de54c0eaab680a166c5a7482839fdc09b60679109021d0504252a810254" data-rendition-name="original" width="865" height="535" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260103020144_a46075b6d759585df56a2bb8e5a07d85de7d9a69406165c32784fe30012c9971" data-rendition-name="original" width="2791" height="3859" loading="lazy" alt="Cholera and drinking water in Kathmandu"> </figure>  “Now we have water to fight cholera, and I believe cholera will no longer prevail. After four years of piped water, the benefits have been greater than expected,” Bir Shumsher said in a proclamation. Despite this, the prevalence of poor sanitation, open defecation, cramped housing, and malnutrition meant that typhoid, smallpox, and dyspepsia remained endemic. The Bir Dhara system marked Kathmandu’s transition from reliance on wells, rivers, springs, and hiti to piped water, operating for several decades and laying the foundation for the expansion of drinking water services across the country in the late twentieth century. <a href="https://commons-nepal.com/the-first-kaldhara-in-the-four-cities-of-the-valley/" target="_blank">Extensions followed in Patan</a> under Chandra Shumsher, and Bhim Shumsher later added the Tri Bhim Dhara. Piped water systems were subsequently constructed in towns such as Kirtipur, Bhaktapur, Dhankuta, Pokhara, Dhulikhel, and Jajarkot which itself saw a deadly cholera outbreak in 2009.&nbsp; CHOLERA METAPHOR In 1933, Nepal’s first water bureaucracy, the Pani Goswara, was established, formalising state involvement in urban water supply. Yet even till the late 20th century, households continue to rely on a mix of sources, including public water networks, private vendors, rooftop storage tanks, borewells, wells, hiti, and household filtration. The lack of reliable water supply places disproportionate financial, physical, and psychological burdens on low-income households, underscoring how decades of infrastructure expansion have not translated into universal, reliable service. during challenges in governance, investment priorities, and regulation. Bir Shumsher also attempted to introduce <a href="https://www.ukaalo.com/news/cholera-in-kathmandu-1958/" target="_blank">basic hygiene measures</a>, such as pit latrines with squatting slabs. However, there is no record of these facilities being built in his palaces, later built palaces, or elsewhere. Sanitation conditions remained poor for both the elite and the general population. Open defecation or the use of crude pit latrines without proper waste disposal was common. With no drainage or sewer systems, human waste accumulated near homes, contributing to the spread of waterborne diseases. In 2019, Nepal declared itself ‘open defecation free’, a policy milestone, but this achievement masks the persistence of deeper problems. Urban areas generate some 867 million litres of wastewater daily, yet only 7% of it is treated before being discharged. Sewage flows untreated into rivers and streams, spreading cholera, typhoid, dysentery, and other diseases, particularly among children and vulnerable communities. Safe disposal of faecal sludge continues to be a major struggle for many communities and local governments. Besides Jajarkot, Godavari in Kathmandu Valley had a localised outbreak in 2024. This year, Birganj was struck by a cholera outbreak caused by a lethal combination of unreliable water supply, groundwater overpumping, poor drainage and hygiene, and unsafe waste disposal. And Nepal’s peacekeepers deployed after the earthquake in Haiti in 2010 were blamed for spreading cholera that ultimately killed 30,000 people in the Caribbean nation. The Bir Water Works was more than a reservoir and pipes. It was Nepal’s first brush with modernity, mediated through engineering and haunted by cholera. More than 134 years on, cholera remains a threat and a reminder of Nepal’s challenges in water and sanitation governance. The issue is not merely ensuring access to safe water but also building public trust that quality essential services can be delivered equitably, sustainably, and with resilience. Ajaya Dixit is a Kathmandu-based researcher exploring Nepal’s water history since the mid-eighteenth century to inform ethical water and river management in a changing climate.

Life in a time of cholera

As someone born and raised in Patan, I knew that the city was rich in art, architecture and intangible heritage. But I never realised just how rich, and how little I knew about its hidden treasures until this book. Yala Mhasika/Exploring Lalitpur/Lalitpurko Chinari is published by the Lalitpur Chamber of Commerce &amp; Industry and introduces the city to the world, as well as to its own inhabitants. Lalitpur is popularly known as Patan, probably because of the pastures for livestock in its outskirts. Its original name in Nepal Bhasa is Yala, and is a blend of urban and rural, old and new.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_700fb4c7b27d78813f69347846403c492cd1d54e2f62e4ec097013714c4a2022.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260101120152_700fb4c7b27d78813f69347846403c492cd1d54e2f62e4ec097013714c4a2022" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Patan Dhoka</figcaption> </figure>  Like other kingdoms in the valley of Swoniga, the dense urban cluster of houses, temples, monasteries were situated along the higher ground, while the farmlands were on the slopes leading to the rivers below. This unique townscape combined an urban lifestyle within a distinctly agriculture-based rural setting. The fertile soil, replenished by organic nutrients washed down from the streets above, as well as Kathmandu’s location on the ancient trade route between India and Tibet, provided the Valley’s kingdoms with prosperity – and thus the flourishing of art and culture over centuries. Most of Yala’s residents were farmers, traders, or artisans. Chinese visitors who came to Nepal in the 6th century saw that there were more traders than farmers, and more temples than houses. An entire street is inhabited by the descendants of Lhasa traders. Arniko is supposed to have been born in Yala.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_0fb490355fac9b8252c9abfbf5ef1bbac844b29103744a421eb6ef6dbc77dff7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260101120152_0fb490355fac9b8252c9abfbf5ef1bbac844b29103744a421eb6ef6dbc77dff7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1332" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Kwonti area which houses five-storey Kumbeshwar temple dedicated to Shiva and Baglamukhi temple dedicated to Dasa Mahavidya shakti peeth.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal exported goods and even minted coins for Tibet, and had a virtual monopoly of the major trans-Himalayan trade routes. This prosperity was reflected in monuments and shrines like the Kwa Baha Golden Temple. More so than the other three kingdoms of Swoniga, architecture flourished in Yala making it the centre for metal, stone and wood craft. The name Lalitpur means ‘city of fine art’ but with its sense of community, it might as well be a city of fine living. Legend also has it that the name Lalitpur comes from a farmer called Lalit who helped bring the rain god Karunamaya from Assam when the Valley was suffering a prolonged drought. Lalit’s shoulder beam stands to this day in Jhatapol. Disasters, invasion and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-in-a-time-of-cholera">epidemics</a> were a recurring theme in Patan.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_b33b1024cb7a46f49fea35ecc9afa2740895907059d7a43c8bd6c463b1be05e7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260101120152_b33b1024cb7a46f49fea35ecc9afa2740895907059d7a43c8bd6c463b1be05e7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Ajima of Haugal Tole which is the oldest stone scripture in Nepal with the Gaja Laxmi in Chyasal.</figcaption> </figure>  The book was put together by the heritage expert team of Rosha Bajracharya, Sunil Pandey and Anil Chitrakar and provides a socio-economic and political history of Patan – how it was always food surplus, thanks to sustainable farming until recently. Ground and drone images by Photo Venture Nepal in the book give us a rare new perspective on Patan. There is an entire chapter on the chariot festival of Karunamaya (Machhindranath), a community-managed festival with Barahi carpenters assembling the woodwork, vine engineers Yamva weaving rope and rattan for the 25m tall chariot, and Ghaku drivers controlling the speed and brakes as the structure rolls through narrow streets in the annual festival.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_d27b23aeb4548b0b64ab8ed20f40baa331060498c6b5443e2cb999b876c670af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260101120152_d27b23aeb4548b0b64ab8ed20f40baa331060498c6b5443e2cb999b876c670af" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Te Bahal in Patan which houses Karunamaya six months a year.</figcaption> </figure>  WALKING, WORSHIPPING The book can help in exploring Patan along five routes starting in Patan Dhoka, Pulchok, Shankhamul, Mahaboudha and Lagankhel with maps and details of the baha and bahil, shrines, ponds, open spaces, dhyochenn, courtyards and phalcha along the way. Because of its coffee-table size and heft, however, the guidebook is not practical to carry around. And despite detailed descriptions of the past and present of each site, readers are left wanting to know more about those places. It is proof of Patan’s vast treasures that even this book barely scratches the surface.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_31a597b7dc1bcc9f67b4f6a66b8c1c0e0a9406727389699e6aed9ac6c3c50901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260101120152_31a597b7dc1bcc9f67b4f6a66b8c1c0e0a9406727389699e6aed9ac6c3c50901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1332" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Patukodom where visitors can view what remains of the ancient Kirant palace.</figcaption> </figure>  Some of the lesser-known must-visit sites include Patukodom which is all that remains of a palace of the original Kirat inhabitants of Patan. An archaeological dig here would surely unearth hitherto unknown facets of pre-Newa Patan. Then there are the slightly out of the way shrines like Mahabouha, a replica of a temple in Bodhgaya which houses 3,341 terracotta Buddhas with 90 big statues and which took 35 years and four generations to complete.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_ffb657dc254f707dc1755f6f13b1ef67bb7183b6573da9678c54482129fb3878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260101120152_ffb657dc254f707dc1755f6f13b1ef67bb7183b6573da9678c54482129fb3878" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Mahaboudha is a replica of a temple in Bodhgaya.</figcaption> </figure>  In a recent Patan by Night heritage walk, we learnt that Pim Bahal was the labour of love of a lakhe demon (now popularised as masked dancer) who had fallen for a local girl, and he dug the pond so she would not have to walk to a faraway spout to collect water. Nearby is the Charumati Chaitya, built by the daughter of Emperor Ashoka when she visited the Valley in the 3rd century BCE to spread Buddhism in Nepal. Interestingly, if Kathmandu is a city of temples, Patan is the centre of monasteries which represent a unique Tantric melding of Buddhist and Hindu forms. Examples are: the Tadham Cuka with relocated Licchavi-era chaityas symbolic of the four major events in Buddha’s life, Ajima of Haugal Tole which is the oldest stone scripture in Nepal with the Gaja Laxmi in Chyasal, and Bignantak Ganesa temple which is a manifestation of Shiva mingled with Vajrayana Buddhism.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_17a500e77f06b9881f684329e41d3482f6f6a639ffb929d8bb44e5af7934c61c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260101120152_17a500e77f06b9881f684329e41d3482f6f6a639ffb929d8bb44e5af7934c61c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Bignantak Ganesa temple.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;Besides spatial descriptions, the book also explains the temporal by curating a detailed cultural calendar of Lalitpur with dates and places of jatra, rituals, devotional dances and festivals that weave the agricultural cycle with the zodiac.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_b8e1cc03653fea85dec84a7abee4fd594c35c6ad553769f37905eb5b38774e08.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20260101120152_b8e1cc03653fea85dec84a7abee4fd594c35c6ad553769f37905eb5b38774e08" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Mipwa Lakhe of Patan which create fire in mid aid during performance.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120152_442e10bff842214e8c7522ebf6e63663599768db73bb57d999deff9de1b59375.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20260101120152_442e10bff842214e8c7522ebf6e63663599768db73bb57d999deff9de1b59375" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur book review"> <figcaption>Gan pyakhan or Astamatrika dance which is performed in Patan Darbar Squre during Dasain. </figcaption> </figure>  The very last chapter is dedicated to water and nature, what sustains lives and civilisations, and how Lalitpur continues to be the city it is because of the water supply system our ancestors left behind which function still, despite encroachment and pollution. ‘In the history of the world cities have been built, they thrived for some time and then became archaeological sites because they were not able to maintain the quality of air, water, and its soil,’ the authors write. ‘This led these cities to depopulate and ultimately die and are only referred to in history books. Lalitpur is not going to make the same mistake.’ &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260104080132_3f403388d57da82b499d6c489a8f095002bf69f11e515e92fa96fb5ca3af69e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20260104080132_3f403388d57da82b499d6c489a8f095002bf69f11e515e92fa96fb5ca3af69e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Exploring Lalitpur"> </figure>

YALA

For daring to demand democracy, the Rana regime hanged activist Shukra Raj Shastri at midnight on 24 January 1941 by the side of the road at Teku. Across town in Siphal, Dharma Bhakta Mathema was also hanged. Four days later, Dasrath Chand and Gangalal Shrestha were executed by firing squad. These four young revolutionaries were members of the underground Nepal Praja Parishad that led the anti-Rana revolution with plans to assassinate key figures of the dynasty. The four martyrs sacrificed their lives for an unfulfilled cause. Monuments were put up in their honour (Shahid Gate) and their names glorified by the Shah monarchy that itself went on to ban political parties and persecute democracy activists. In 1950, the newly-formed Nepal National Congress launched an armed uprising against Rana rule after King Tribhuvan sought refuge at the Indian embassy to flee from the Rana regime. In 1951, the Ranas, Nepali Congress and King Tribhuvan signed a tripartite agreement that brought an end to 104 years of Rana rule.&nbsp; Thus began contemporary Nepal’s cycles of unfinished revolutions. Some 75 years later, on a sunny September morning, Nepal’s young and hopeful took to the streets demanding an end to the nation’s corrupt polity, envisioning a better democracy. They organised through digital platforms, played songs, danced, and chanted slogans. A few hours later, commandos fired on the protesters, massacring dozens. Over 8 and 9 September 2025, the government was overthrown, constitutional bodies were literally reduced to ashes, and 74 Nepalis were martyred.&nbsp; Nepal’s periodic revolutions have been ignited by anger against rulers, they have begun with great promise, spread with enthusiastic popular support despite rulers trying to crush them — but ultimately they have always fallen short of the expectations of citizens demanding reform. Through decades of dissent, Nepal’s periodic revolutions have remained incomplete, with the nation caught up in a cyclical search for stability.&nbsp; In 1960, king Mahendra staged a coup and overthrew an elected government led by prime minister B P Koirala -- a royal revolution against democracy. Mahendra is reported to have famously said to Koirala: “Nepal is not big enough for the two of us.” For the next 30 years Nepal resembled a one-party state under the absolute monarchy of the Panchayat. Elected leaders languished in jail or exile, political parties were banned, and the press controlled. This was the most frigid period of the Cold War, with Nepal’s neighbours India and China at war. Geopolitics was bound to have an impact. “After the 1816 Sugauli Treaty with British India, external forces magnified internal power struggles as outsiders played divide and rule,” explains editor and political analyst Rajendra Dahal. “Movements did not reach a logical conclusion because domestic politicians were forced to compromise.” Indeed, the departure of the British from India in 1947 meant that the days of the Anglophile Rana regime were numbered. Successive prime ministers sought patronage in Delhi, and the monarchy tried to counterbalance it with a policy of equidistance with China. The neighbours showed a keen strategic interest in Nepal’s domestic politics. “The Panchayat system did not deliver what it promised,” says Santosh Sharma Poudel of Nepal Institute of Policy and Research. “Nepalis suffered administrative and governance failure, politics was centralised in Kathmandu, leaving out the rest of Nepal.” With mainstream political parties and leaders were &nbsp;underground between 1961 till 1990, student activists became proxies for political parties. As pressure for change grew, a student-led pro-democracy movement spread across Nepal in 1979. In response, King Birendra announced a referendum to allow Nepalis to choose between the status quo and a ‘reformed’ Panchayat &nbsp;system.&nbsp; The Panchayat won by a slim margin with questions about the legitimacy of the plebiscite. The reforms never materialised and it would be another decade before street anger boiled over again. As the People’s Movement for democracy spread, king Birendra again relented, unbanning political parties and Nepal became a constitutional monarchy. Inspired by Mao Zedong, a faction of Nepal’s Communists felt that western-style parliamentary democracy was too slow to end a feudalist monarchy. They launched an armed struggle in 1996, and the war lasted ten years (editorial, page 2). “If the democratic government post-1990 had performed better, and brought real reform, the Maoists would not have a reason to launch a revolution,” says Poudel. After nearly a decade of bloodshed that left 17,000 dead and thousands still missing, the Maoists joined forces with the democratic parties that they had been fighting, to pressure king Gyanendra through street protests in 2006 to restore democracy. In 2008, an elected Constituent Assembly abolished the monarchy. &nbsp;Recalls Rajendra Dahal: “The second people’s movement did not aim to abolish the monarchy. In fact, the reinstated parliament even granted equal rights for royal daughters to be crowned queen. But eventually, the monarchy no longer fit the political framework that the parties envisioned.” It took two elections over the next eight years to draft a new Constitution that reflected Nepal’s socio-cultural and geographic diversity and met the demands of the Maoists. The new federal Constitution was finally promulgated in 2015, but failed to satisfy India and the aspirations of the Madhes communities for autonomy. The state’s effort to crush the Madhes movement cost 45 lives. The promise of the new Constitution was squandered over the next decade with rotating leadership of the NC, UML and the Maoists — all of whom had forgotten the sacrifices made in the name of revolution. Cronyism and corruption was the order of the day. And it was this never-ending cycle of political opportunism and malgovernance that brought Nepal’s youth to the streets on 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260101120128_bc50f6370ff80a6758199ea7ba9f4c214656a9322a8d2ba1c97e6cdfb88f7f62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260101120128_bc50f6370ff80a6758199ea7ba9f4c214656a9322a8d2ba1c97e6cdfb88f7f62" data-rendition-name="original" width="3372" height="1371" loading="lazy" alt="timeline"> </figure>  1951 Revolution against the &nbsp;Rana regime 1960 King Mahendra's coup, jails B P Koirala and launches the partyless Panchayat system 1979 Student protests for democracy, King Birendra announces referendum&nbsp; 1980 Continuation of the partyless Panchayat system narrowly wins plebiscite&nbsp; 1990 People’s Movement I 1996 Maoists launch armed struggle&nbsp; 2000 Royal Massacre 2005 King Gyanendra's military-backed coup&nbsp; 2006 Comprehensive Peace Accord and Parliament restored 2008 Monarchy is abolished 2015 Madhes Movement, New Constitution promulgated 2017 First 3-tier election under federal system 2022 Second elections under federal Constitution&nbsp; 2025 GenZ protests BRK ALLIANCE “The socio-political change sought in all these movements never matched the people’s expectations, because the central issue of clean and efficient government never materialised,” says Poudel. The post-September political landscape has injected new personalities and alliances still relatively new to politics, as evidenced by the new electoral partnership of the BRK — Balen Shah, Rabi Lamichhane, and Kulman Ghising (page 1).&nbsp; These leaders are not without flaws, but they have become the effective flag-bearers of the GenZ movement, hoping to represent Nepalis disillusioned by decades of democratic decay. The March election will pit them against the legacy parties. There is already criticism that BRK is behaving just like male-dominated opportunists of old parties. The troika is resembling the triumvirate of Oli, Deuba and Dahal and its culture of patronage and quid-pro-quo power-sharing between alpha males. Will this also be another unfinished revolution? Says political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal: &nbsp;“The kind of destruction that happened after the revolution should have been followed by a ground-breaking shift in Nepal’s political ecosystem, but that did not happen. Today the situation is a lot grimmer because we have players who have learned how to use the democratic facade to sound ‘equitable’ and ‘accountable’. But look closely and you see how the same political chauvinism, cronyism and nepotism still continue.”&nbsp;

Nepal’s incomplete revolutions

Nepal’s 2022 elections, its second under the federal system, was marked by the disruption in Nepal’s political status quo. Two figures stood out in particular: Balen Shah, whose outsider candidacy transformed urban political imagination, and the Rastriya Swatantra Party under Rabi Lamichhane, which leveraged his extensive media-built credibility to secure unexpected influence within months of its formation.&nbsp;
Their success was not an ideological victory, it was the victory of leaders who presented a vision of leadership that was different from Nepal’s political norm. It was the result of sophisticated public relations, effective message dissemination, and the careful cultivation of the credibility of these forces.&nbsp;
Last week, these once-separate trajectories formally converged as Shah and Lamichhane first joined forces, and within twenty-four hours their alliance expanded further with Kulman Ghising’s Ujjyalo Party. Ghising, who was appointed Minister in Nepal’s post-September interim Cabinet largely due to his public goodwill, has been another public figure whose reputation has been built as much through performance as through perception.&nbsp;
Together, Balen-Rabi-Kulman (BRK) now present themselves as an alternative front to the entrenched Oli–Prachanda–Deuba(OPD) power centre. But as this emerging bloc positions itself as a corrective option to “old politics”, the first substantive glimpse into its internal political behaviour raises important questions. The alliance’s Proportional Representation (PR) list provides an early indicator of priorities.&nbsp;
“The PR list of RSP showcases the utter disrespect for the constitution,” says Shailee Chaudhary, a PR candidate from Gatisheel Loktantrik Party. “It reveals that RSP at its core is an opportunistic clique instead of a political party. For them the PR list became a corporate takeover for their investors and brand ambassadors.”&nbsp;
Prospective candidates were reportedly required to pay Rs50,000 to have their names included, and the resulting roster reads less like a reflection of Nepal’s diverse social fabric and more like an inventory of recognised public figures.&nbsp;
The party’s explanation for the Rs50,000 fee requirement was that it has been raised to ensure that candidates are well off enough to not engage in corruption. But Mangpahang says this defense implies that corruption is exclusive to the poor.&nbsp;
“The PR system of RSP has been captured by elites,” says Yajaswi Mangpahang, President of Youth Congress Nepal. “The fact that one had to be affluent to be considered in the list is exclusionary.”
Mangpahang compares the PR selection process of the RSP to the Nepali Congress. The NC has exploited the PR list, she says, but the party has at the least understood the essence of the system, and why it exists.
“Nepal’s diversity, its socio-economic and political history, as well as where we are now must be understood by politicians,” she adds.&nbsp;
POLITICS OR POPULARITY CONTEST?
Actors, singers, pageant winners to business personalities and athletes in RSP’s PR list have positioned themselves as representatives of marginalised communities from dalit, adhiwasi janajati, and khas-arya communities. Notable names include: singer Prakash Saput (Dalit), actress Reema Bishwokarma (Dalit Woman), former Miss Nepal Anushka Shrestha (Adhivasi Woman), executive director of Goldstar shoes Vidhusi Rana (Khas-Arya Woman) and the once formidable contender for KMC mayoral race, Ranju Darshana (Khas Arya-Woman).&nbsp;
“The legal benchmarks of the representations are met but there is no clarity of principle in the list,” says Mangpahang.
Rather than reimagining representation, RSP’s PR list appears to extend the same reliance on visibility and public appeal that has driven the BRK’s rise so far. Reducing politics to communication tactics and profile-building not only trivialises governance, it fundamentally distorts the purpose of the proportional representation system, which was designed to broaden inclusion, not as a stage to curate and amplify personalities with pre-existing social capital.&nbsp;
“The inclusion of already established figures in the PR list meant for marginalised communities is evidence of intellectual and moral poverty,” says Chaudhary. “It signals that their approach is 100% about marketing and 0% about representation. They are not building a party, they are merging fan clubs, they confuse social media trends with grassroots movements and celebrity recognition with democratic legitimacy.”
Indeed, this strategy is akin to the dynamics of social media, where visibility translates directly into political currency. Shah’s politics has been inseparable from his online persona, carefully crafted through bold declarations, poetic nationalism, and viral digital performance. Lamichhane’s rise, meanwhile, is rooted in years of television-driven credibility, now amplified through algorithmic circulation that rewards outrage, emotional immediacy, and charismatic confrontation over deliberative politics.&nbsp;
The BRK project exemplifies how Nepali politics is increasingly being shaped by algorithmic culture. Platforms such as Facebook, TikTok, and YouTube don’t simply reflect political sentiment; they actively shape it by privileging sensationalism, conflict, and personality-driven storytelling. Their political momentum is therefore less a reflection of ideological consolidation and more a product of digital mobilisation, where “followers” begin to substitute party structures, and engagement metrics are mistaken for mass legitimacy.&nbsp;
In such an ecosystem, leaders who can command attention are rewarded more than those who can articulate policy. Indeed, political power in Nepal is increasingly determined by who commands the loudest applause, especially online. This risks reducing democracy to an algorithmic popularity contest: noisy and charismatic, but ultimately no different from the legacy political figures, just with a new facade.&nbsp;
“In the long run this subverts the constitution rendering its core components meaningless. It kills the spirit of inclusive democracy, it also erases marginalised voices, pushing the voices of women, Dalit, adivasi janajati and other marginalised groups and reduces politics to a spectator sport,” adds Chaudhary. “It teaches voters that politics is about cheering for individual heroes, not about advocating for communities or ideologies.”
Political legitimacy online may appear like that people and the leader are interacting, directly in touch with one another, but to pursue popularity over policy-driven politics is to avoid facing the public. What the RSP has done now is to make a safety valve for elites so that they do not actively interact with the people.&nbsp;
“To run an election is to have guts, you must have an understanding of your constituency, you must have a vision, and it is a gamble,” says Mangpahang.&nbsp;
When political legitimacy becomes increasingly tethered to personal popularity and digital visibility, it risks sidelining individuals who possess competence, policy expertise, and grassroots understanding, because they lack comparable social capital.&nbsp;
If the system rewards recognition over representation, leadership opportunities go to those embedded in media and celebrity ecosystems. This could consolidate power and perpetuate the marginalisation of communities who are structurally disenfranchised from politics.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.