<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110101152/636cc9e09c7e80680e08bb35jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1279" height="822"/><figcaption>Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>My mother is grieving.She has lost a chunk of her childhood. Loss is sometimes unnamed. But this loss, she likes to talk about. They’re gone, she tells me.The water hyacinths and lotuses. There were pink and white lotuses and lavender water hyacinths. We could sit by the side of the pond and wait for the fish to flip. Sometimes, one floundered for a bit on the surface before finding the way back below the water’s surface. Sometimes, we would see snakes and frogs and confuse them for fish. We even confused tadpoles for fish, she says.She likes to talk, my Mother. She goes on:There weren’t just ponds. There were springs, that had been fenced in by walls of red bricks, turning them into कुवा that served as community wells. There were three of them at a distance of six minutes’ walk from the house. Father had built one of those for the community. There were two others built by others, who also wanted to be of service to the community.These were places of doing—there were always women washing clothes. The dirty water was led away by a gutter to meet the canal that irrigated the fields that sprawled as far as the eyes could see. The fields always stayed irrigated, the कुवा always had plenty of water. On days when no one washed clothes there, the water would flow out, clear, clean water that glittered in the sun. Sometimes, its reflection made you squint.There were fish, and sometimes snakes. Sometimes, a toad. When the water overflowed, the fish would often show up at the brim, stare in fright at the human encounter, plop and dive back quickly into its depth. Children waited to catch them. हिले माछा ! They would catch some, thrust them in a bottle and take them home, but would bring them back eventually because the Horlicks jars didn’t make good aquariums.There was something soft about the way the water lapped against the walls when women leaned down to draw water out with dippers. Children helped their mothers with smaller utensils. Fathers helped carry buckets full of water home—walking sideways as the weight of the water dragged them down. Some women would bring their गाग्री and fill them slowly to the brim. But there was never a wait. There was always plenty for everyone.The springs were located 6m from each other, the one at the farthest end, called मुहान, the main source, was bigger than the other two and always overflowing. Young men would dip in the pool. Women only went to that one if the men were not around.Sometimes, a boy pinning for a sight of his beloved would wait by the springs, hoping to catch a moment of privacy with her—to look into her eye directly without having to say anything. Sometimes, a girl sat on the roof, prostrate, surrendering herself to the sun, in deep contemplation about a life that was momentarily stolen to be free of surveillance. The कुवा were so much.But people in the neighbourhood planted pipes and used machines to pump the water out to fill private tanks. Then houses started going up in the vicinity. Wells were being dug for each household. The water level started to recede so people had to tie their buckets to a rope to draw out water.There was never enough water. And their platforms where women formerly sat, washing clothes, became scattered with colourful plastic bags, discarded toothbrushes, soap wrappers, and whatnot.They are like empty temples now, says my Mother. I hear they no longer hold water. And with that, a chapter of my childhood has also closed.*We decided to abandon the play halfway. It was excruciatingly long drawn and boring. Through much of it, we had sat sighing. In longing for something else. It was during the interval that we ran into one another in the Ladies. How’re you liking it? She asked.Meh.Want to take a walk?Where?Kamal Pokhari?Ummm. Okay.She was carrying a bouquet of flowers in her arms. For the cast, perhaps. She brought it along when we left the theatre. We bought a big bag of fries and crossed the road to arrive at the side of the pond. Kamal Pokhari, the one dedicated to the lotus. We found a little gate that let us into the area, marked off by walls to enclose the pond. There were walkways around it. Some people were walking, too. Brisk walking. And a couple on a date, walking slowly, their fingers twirled in one another’s.The pond had been cordoned off by a barbed wire fence. But we managed to find a niche and stepped in and sat by the edge of the water. We were so close to the water hyacinths. Closer to the center were lotus in bloom— still, as Kathmandu moved around it in a thousand sounds.Ah! This is pretty. I’ve never done this before.That’s the whole point, isn’t it?Then she extended her arms and dropped the bouquet in my arms gently, like it were a baby.Yesterday was your birthday.It was.We smiled at each other and nibbled on the fries. She asked me at some point about my heart. I told her I was healing. Only, there isn’t healing for some wounds.True. True.But we can make it lighter. Therefore, these moments.And there, at Kamal Pokhari, in twilight, two awkward girls, introverted to the extent of withdrawing from the world, sat in silence a long time, eating potatoes and looking at flowers, until the guard came and told us we had ten more minutes.Even moments were timed.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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Be water

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

New year revolutions

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

What is invisible is more dangerous

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

water-conservation

Be water

New year revolutions

What is invisible is more dangerous

The healer of far-western Nepal

82 in २०८२