<figure><img width="920" height="2000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be10c9c7e80680e083e28jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A girl worships in a locked up Ganesh temple in Kuleshwor in Kathmandu this week. All photos: Rajani Maharjan</figcaption></figure>For decades, Dhanamaya Singh concluded each day at Aakash Bhairab Temple in Indrachok in Kathmandu’s historic heart, to sing bhajan hymns.As an unmarried elder, these evening prayers were her way of engaging with her community and were the centre of her social and ritual life. But, at the end of March, with the first government-mandated lockdown to prevent the spread of Covid-19, her daily practice was stopped abruptly. Dhanamaya has not seen a single one of her relatives since the lockdown began, and even after it was lifted has to be careful. While she previously visited them frequently for feasts and rituals days, her family is strictly adhering to social distancing practices, so she now spends most of her time alone at home. She says the isolation, though protective of her physical health, has been detrimental to her mental wellbeing.  <a href="https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/December-2016/The-Mental-Health-Benefits-of-Religion-Spiritual" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/December-2016/The-Mental-Health-Benefits-of-Religion-Spiritual&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605372826448000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGy1PM7H-LAzL9nOponn9G9rrlPhg">Numerous studies</a> have shown the connection between religious practice and mental health benefits. The system of beliefs, the structure, and the sense of community inherent in most religions have a largely positive impact on mental wellbeing. Regardless of the belief system, including Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, all involve rituals that help people cope with difficult life events such as the death of a loved one, lessons that arise from challenging situations, as well as regularity and predictability, all of which are highly beneficial during the uncertainty of a pandemic. Additionally, religion and spirituality create a group of people who connect over shared beliefs. The benefits of feeling a sense of belonging, a place for trusting public engagement, and social connection have been shown to reduce anxiety, depression, and other forms of mental distress. <figure><img width="640" height="853" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be10f9c7e80680e083e29jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>While the Covid-19 pandemic has affected all aspects of religious practice in Nepal, most people, regardless of their age, gender, or social position, say that it is the change in community engagement that has had the most significant impact on their lives. While many report that they are visiting temples less frequently and have reduced the scale of their rituals, people say they are still finding a way to worship and to regain the sense of community that their typical religious practice brings. To do so, more and more residents of Kathmandu are turning to technology, some for the very first time. But can tools like Facebook, messenger apps, and even virtual reality really replace the real experience?Dhanamaya’s struggle with loneliness and the way in which the Covid-19 pandemic has impacted her mental health is not uncommon in Kathmandu Valley, across Nepal, or around the world. Since the first case of Covid-19 was <a href="https://www.thelancet.com/journals/laninf/article/PIIS1473-3099(20)30067-0/fulltext" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.thelancet.com/journals/laninf/article/PIIS1473-3099(20)30067-0/fulltext&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605372826448000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGg55WQDhgR0lx9yQqWW4gYDhRhRg">recorded in Nepal</a> on 23 January, the valley has been in and out of lockdowns with varying degrees of restrictions.Although restaurants and public offices have been allowed to reopen periodically, most of the city’s temples, particularly the major ones that draw the largest crowds, have remained shuttered for over seven months.Almost every country in the world has grappled with how to manage the disease burden without causing devastating impacts to the economy, and Nepal is no different in the way it has been forced to bear this struggle. However, because Nepal’s healthcare capacity is already limited, the government of Nepal instituted even more stringent lockdown actions, particularly in Kathmandu Valley, than have been seen in many other countries, including measures such as even/odd days for vehicles, grounding domestic flights, and the complete and long-term closure of businesses. The impacts of these extend far beyond purely the economic.      For example, when Maya Dangol’s mother died a couple of months ago, she and her family struggled to conduct the death rituals due to the lockdown measures. Market closures, supply shortages, and the even/odd license plate restrictions on vehicles posed a challenge when trying to obtain all the necessary material to conduct the funeral rituals. She says her family visited the temples at four in the morning to burn wick lamps in their mother’s name to enable them to return home by six to avoid vehicle restrictions and contact with other people. <figure><img width="960" height="720" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be1119c7e80680e083e2ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Despite these limitations, coronavirus cases continue to increase daily and hospitals in Kathmandu are reaching capacity, some having to turn away even serious cases due to a lack of beds and other resources. The total confirmed cases in Nepal surpassed 200,000 this week, with nearly half of them just in Kathmandu Valley. The total deaths crossed 1,202 on 13 November, with 456 of them in Kathmandu. For the past weeks, the Valley is recording an average of 60% of the daily cases detected nationwide.Public health experts say the government has failed to effectively respond to the pandemic because there was little planning or work to improve healthcare facilities before they became overwhelmed. Now some, especially underprivileged families, feel they have few options if they contract the virus. There is also concern about how the government’s response to the pandemic has impacted the way religious and cultural events have been carried out. Dhiraj, a Newa environmental scientist is worried about the impact of the lockdown on some of the major festivals and rituals, including Rato Machindranath and Bisket Jatra. “The government has prevented these festivals from taking place, but other functions are allowed to continue. Major temples like Pashupati, have been closed since the beginning of the lockdown period, while other activities remain open, like markets and shops,” he explained.“Previously, the Newa community of Kathmandu Valley was especially strong in its religious beliefs, these days this is breaking down. For the first time in a very long time, people are not observing the rituals,” said Dhiraj, adding that this was partly due to fears about disease transmission, but also partially due to government regulation.  While most of the major religious events have been canceled or carried out with highly reduced numbers, residents of Kathmandu and people across Nepal have found ways to adapt and maintain spiritual and social connections despite the difficulty the pandemic poses. Dhanamaya, the bhajan singer, exemplifies this. Although she could no longer play bhajan at the temple, Dhanamaya realised she had another outlet to share her songs and worship with the community: through social media platforms such as Facebook. It was difficult for her to embrace the technology at first, she admits, and she needed help from her young nieces and nephews to navigate the platform. But Dhanamaya says: “Now, when I have leisure time, I get dressed up as if I am going out. I then position my mobile to record myself singing and if the video is nice, I post it.” When her friends and family give positive feedback, she feels less disconnected, and inspired to continue learning and sharing.  <figure><img width="600" height="872" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be1139c7e80680e083e2bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Similarly, Gyani Maharjan says she spends a most of her days on video calls and other social media platforms. Because she has high blood pressure and is therefore at a greater risk for a more serious infection if she contracts the virus, she too is limiting physical contact with others, including family. To stay healthy physically as well as mentally, she participates in a yoga class through a messenger application on her mobile. Like Dhanamaya, she says this has helped her regain a sense of community when she would otherwise be almost completely isolated. Gyani and her nine siblings changed the way they celebrated the festival season this year, but she says, this did not make them feel any less connected as a family. During recent festivals, each sibling would participate in group video calls where they would show what they had prepared for that particular day and joke with each other and laugh. Gyani said she feels less anxious and stressed when she gets to connect using these platforms and watch videos of her grandchildren. In <a href="https://restofworld.org/2020/hey-bhagwan/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://restofworld.org/2020/hey-bhagwan/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605372826448000&amp;usg=AFQjCNE_XGUoyhE7Wod0TspJ2h-j-QFa-Q">India</a>, virtual reality (VR) platforms are being marketed as a way to enable people to do darshan even when they cannot physically get to the temples. This began even before the beginning of the pandemic for people who have moved out of their home state or to a foreign country, because they are elderly or ill, and for those who the major traffic jams of the Indian metropolises prevented them from visiting the temples regularly. Smartphone application downloads for VR temple experiences have increased exponentially since temples were closed in response to the spread of Covid-19. VR apps enable priests to continue to perform the rituals and maintain their livelihoods while devotees can continue to engage, though from afar.Likewise, many Americans have adopted the habit of attending virtual church from their laptops every Sunday. Even after the virus is managed and in-person worship can resume, many churches report that they will continue live streaming weekly services to accommodate those who are unable to attend the service or who prefer to worship from home.However, not everyone has embraced these changing forms of worshiping and socialising though. Baburaja Bajracharya, a priest, says he has heard that some of the Brahmin priests  are instructing people to perform puja through video calls, however, he and other Newa priests that he knows have not adopted this practice. For Baburaja and many others who are hesitant to involve technology in religious practice or who reject it outright, the experience and perceived benefits of being at a temple or in the presence of a priest during puja cannot be replicated virtually. The sense of community afforded through religious practice is not felt to the same degree when those experiences are happening on a mobile phone. <figure><img width="492" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be1159c7e80680e083e2cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="492" height="1024" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109181116/636be1179c7e80680e083e2djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure> <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1745691617713052?journalCode=ppsa" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1745691617713052?journalCode%3Dppsa&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1605372826448000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHQIKJRX8DVUxp5GgqxtnVybWftvw">Research</a> has shown that social media can be effective in addressing loneliness when it is used to enhance existing relationships, like in the case of Dhanamaya and Gyani, but is counterproductive when it is relied upon to replace in-person interaction. Therefore, the benefits of this technology are largely dependent on the way they are integrated into daily lives.However, during a pandemic, many feel as though there are few other options for socialisation other than to engage on virtual platforms. This suggests that for some, the perceived benefits may end up being short-lived or unsustainable if social distancing remains necessary far into the future.  For some, though, the use of technology to conduct and share ritual, religious, and community experiences has been essential. Alok Siddhi Tuladhar, a cultural activist, says his birthday would have been a lonely and isolating day for both him and his parents if not for platforms that enable virtual connection. Because he tested Covid-19 positive, though asymptomatic, he chose to celebrate his birthday at home with only his wife and son. His elderly parents watched his wife perform the birthday puja from their house across the city over video chat. Tuladhar says he thinks “technology helped us to fill the gap that comes with social distancing when we are unable to visit each other physically.”  Although technology has helped fill that gap for some, its impact in a post-pandemic world is yet to be seen. Rajani Maharjan is an environmental anthropologist affiliated with the Small Earth Nepal (SEN), an environmental research group.Madison Wrobley is a 2019-2020 Fulbright-National Geographic Storytelling Fellow who studies water insecurity, primarily in Kathmandu Valley, and is now based in Colorado.

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With temples locked up, Nepalis improvise

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.

virtual-mass

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YALA

Nepal’s incomplete revolutions

RSP’s PR list is not good PR