<a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/dhm-forecasts-above-average-rainfall-and-temperatures-for-2025-monsoon-28-10.html">This year, </a>Madhes Province received less rainfall than was forecast by the &nbsp;Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM), reducing groundwater recharge of shallow aquifers which are the lifeline for domestic use and irrigation.&nbsp; The crisis was serious enough for the government to officially declare a drought emergency during the monsoon, with the province declared a '<a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2025/07/23/cabinet-declares-madhesh-province-a-disaster-crisis-zone?">disaster-hit zone</a>' in July.&nbsp; The monsoon scarcity hit farmers hardest, a majority of whom depend on rainfall for agriculture. Data from Dhanusa’s <a href="https://add.madhesh.gov.np/noticefiles/%E0%A4%A7%E0%A4%BE%E0%A4%A8-%E0%A4%B0%E0%A5%8B%E0%A4%AA%E0%A4%BE%E0%A4%87%E0%A4%95%E0%A5%8B-%E0%A4%B5%E0%A4%BF%E0%A4%B5%E0%A4%B0%E0%A4%A3-%E0%A5%A4-1752227917.pdf">Agriculture Development Directorate</a> shows that only 33% paddy plantation was completed by mid July, in comparison to <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/money/2024/07/31/fastest-transplantation-rate-sows-hope-for-bumper-paddy-harvest?">92% planting the same time last year</a>. Only 49% of agricultural land in Nepal is irrigated — farmers in the rest of the arable land rely on rainfall, private wells and groundwater extraction. During the dry seasons and droughts, water insufficient groundwater recharge worsens the water crisis.&nbsp; Nearly 88% of households depend on groundwater in Madhes Province which has about 100,780 shallow tube wells and 60,660 deep tube wells. But in recent times, the tube wells and hand pumps have dried up every year.&nbsp; This shortage disproportionately impacts low income families and small-scale farmers, who have no other alternative to irrigate their land. And because paddy accounts for up to 7% of Nepal’s economy, Madhes’ water crisis is not confined to within the province, but has serious implications on the national economy.&nbsp; Underground water Groundwater extraction for irrigation began in the <a href="https://jvs-nwp.org.np/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Water-Nepal-A-historical-Perspective.pdf">1970s, </a>shallow and deep tube wells for irrigation were introduced with support from development partners. By the 2021 agriculture census, <a href="https://agricensusnepal.gov.np/upload_file/files/post/1731650149_1221316497_Agriculture%20Census%202021_District%20Summary%20Report_by%20Province.pdf">groundwater irrigated land had increased </a>to 41.7%, up from &nbsp;<a href="https://agricensusnepal.gov.np/upload_file/files/post/1694250757_1312300734_National%20Sample%20Census%20of%20Agriculture%202021_22%20(National%20Report).indd.pdf">29.8% in 2011.</a>&nbsp; A lack of strong policies and regulation to monitor unchecked extraction has meant that with the exception of some parts of Kathmandu Valley, domestic users, subsistence and commercial farmers, restaurants, hotels and industries across Nepal can draw any quantity of groundwater from desired depths and location. While the dependence on drilling for water has risen due to limited expansion of surface water infrastructure, there has been little attention to groundwater recharge. This competing use of groundwater threatens the fundamental right to drinking water.&nbsp; The ecologically sensitive Chure and Bhawar watershed play a crucial role in groundwater recharge. However, deforestation and indiscriminate riverbed mining has severely reduced its recharge potential over the years. In addition, widespread monoculture plantation of fast-growing non-native eucalyptus trees, replacing native sissoo and sal trees has compounded the crisis. Eucalyptus, a water intensive species indigenous to Australia, was introduced in the Bhawar region in 1978 for supplying wood. The Tarai’s recurring water crisis is not only climatic. Years of fragmented planning, inadequate budget allocation for groundwater management, as well as limited intra- and inter-government policies and coordination have contributed to the disaster just as much as droughts and floods caused by changing weather patterns. The United Nations said decades ago disasters are not natural, and they occur when we fail to prepare.&nbsp; Groundwater management is <a href="https://www.opmcm.gov.np/download/%e0%a4%86%e0%a4%af%e0%a5%8b%e0%a4%9c%e0%a4%a8%e0%a4%be-%e0%a4%b5%e0%a4%b0%e0%a5%8d%e0%a4%97%e0%a5%80%e0%a4%95%e0%a4%b0%e0%a4%a3%e0%a4%95%e0%a5%8b-%e0%a4%86%e0%a4%a7%e0%a4%be%e0%a4%b0-%e0%a4%a4/?wpdmdl=8990&amp;refresh=683b8df54ffef1748733429">the shared responsibility of federal, provincial and local</a> governments, but there is a lack of <a href="https://www.iwmi.org/blogs/stakeholders-in-nepal-work-together-to-enhance-collective-action-for-municipal-groundwater-management/">integrated planning, &nbsp;budgeting, data sharing</a>, and collective action for groundwater extraction and recharge.&nbsp; Sustainable groundwater use in the plains requires inclusive and equitable practices that combine water science-informed interventions with a long-term cross-disciplinary approach.&nbsp; Groundwater is mainly available either in shallow unconfined aquifers that are close to the surface and directly linked to rainfall and rivers, and deep confined aquifers between semi permeable or impermeable ground layers. Locating and mapping such aquifers would help us find what depth they lie at, how much water they hold, what we can do to recharge them and how much time recharging would take—enabling sustainable use of groundwater. Construction of surface water projects such as the Sun Kosi Marine Diversion Multipurpose Project, which serves a dual purpose of expanding irrigation and recharging groundwater, must be expedited.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251027071020_a9442084bc412998d3e7417cf0d057cae8a2b98f5e47ac1a8cc0630612ff2a55.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251027071020_a9442084bc412998d3e7417cf0d057cae8a2b98f5e47ac1a8cc0630612ff2a55" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mitigating the Madhes water crisis NT"> <figcaption>Photo: ONION FILMS / IWMI</figcaption> </figure>  Such infrastructure have a conjunctive use recognised by the National Irrigation Master Plan 2019 and the National Irrigation Policy 2023, wherein farmers can rely on canals for irrigation during monsoon and groundwater during dry seasons.&nbsp; Nature-based solutions such as rainwater harvesting, managed aquifer recharge techniques, restoration of wetlands and retention ponds, and floodwater reservoirs, particularly in ecologically sensitive regions like the Chure Bhaban, should be explored. &nbsp; The management of green water — the water stored in soil and vegetation — is equally as critical as that of blue water (rivers, canals, and groundwater). Green water is lost through evapotranspiration, which contributes to nearly half of the rainfall on land. Deforestation, soil degradation, poor land use practices, and loss of wetlands contribute to the disruption of the evapotranspiration cycle, affecting rainfall patterns and groundwater recharge. Solutions Rising temperatures compound this situation by increasing evapotranspiration. Soil water conservation, vegetation cover, wetland restoration, and nature friendly land use practices must therefore be prioritised. Water-efficient technologies and practices including drip irrigation use of sprinklers, mulching, and soil fertility improvement should be scaled up.&nbsp; At the same time, we must promote irrigation techniques and technologies along with crop choices and cropping patterns that give more yield per drop of water so that food production and water conservation go hand in hand. &nbsp; The government provides subsidised electricity for irrigation starting at Rs2.3/unit, some local governments are even supplying power for free. While such subsidies support farmers and increase productivity, &nbsp;it also poses serious risk of over extraction of groundwater.&nbsp; Flat subsidies in electricity or solar irrigation must be replaced by targeted subsidies in order to balance domestic and agricultural needs with ecological conservation. The 2015 <a href="https://kvwsmb.gov.np/public/uploads/board_act_&amp;_rules/rule-1.pdf">directive for groundwater licensing</a> developed per the Drinking Water Management Board Act 2006 for Kathmandu valley prohibits groundwater extraction from shallow aquifers for commercial and industrial uses. The directive also has provisions for licensing, and renewals, and mandates for license holders to contribute to groundwater recharge. The Madhes needs similar context-specific policies to address its groundwater crisis and safeguard water rights. Shallow aquifers in the region should be prioritised for domestic use while <a href="https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-981-10-3889-1_11">deep aquifers, which are still underutilised, should be tapped</a> in a sustainable manner for commercial, industrial and large scale irrigation and drinking water projects.&nbsp; While <a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/human-dynamics/articles/10.3389/fhumd.2023.1181734/full">technical solutions</a> are important, they are not enough to solve Madhes’ water crisis. Nepal’s Constitution and the Local Governance Operation Act 2017 empower local governments for water management in their constituencies. But beyond the letter of the law, local units require community tailored groundwater policies, regular groundwater monitoring and up-to-date data, and investment in local recharge initiatives such as retention ponds, restoration of wetlands, and rainwater harvesting. Coordination between all three tiers of government is crucial, particularly among agencies that pertain to drinking water, water resources, irrigation, agriculture, land use, environment, climate change, and urban development. &nbsp; Heeding indigenous knowledge will be crucial to understanding the water crisis in Madhes and initiating solutions that will fit the context and needs of the region. Local engagement in groundwater monitoring can help to create self -aware, accountable, cost effective and participatory groundwater management practices.&nbsp; To ensure water security in Madhes, we thus need inclusive governance, coherent policies, active engagement of citizens, integration of local and indigenous knowledge and a principle of equity that puts people at the centre. &nbsp; Sumitra KC, a policy and governance researcher in natural resources management, is the National Researcher at the International Water Management Institute (IWMI), Nepal. Manohara Khadka, PhD, an expert in natural resources management, gender equality, and social inclusion, is the Country Representative of IWMI, Nepal.

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Mitigating the Madhes water crisis

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3509c7e80680e0d3055jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1041"/><figcaption>CALVING OFF: In the past 30 years, the Imja Glacier in the Khumbu has grown into a lake 2km long as the permafrost and ice melts. Photo: KIRIL RUSEV</figcaption></figure>The Himalaya is the largest storehouse of water as ice after the polar regions, which is why it is called the Third Pole. The world’s highest mountain range is also referred to as the Water Tower of Asia, but the roof of the world is running out of water.Sky rivers bring moisture from the ocean and precipitate it as rain or snow on the mountains. Much of it seeps into the ground with the mountains acting like gigantic sponges. The rest is stored as ice and melts slowly in summer when glaciers bring them down.But climate change is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">heating up the Himalaya</a> faster than the global average, disrupting this water cycle. The rains are becoming more erratic, either coming in torrents or not at all, groundwater is depleting, and glaciers have shrunk.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3549c7e80680e0d3056jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="109">Rivers originating in the Himalaya and the Tibetan Plateau that sustain the inhabitants of the mountains as well as 1 billion Asians downstream will have less water in the dry season in the coming decades.If greenhouse gas emissions are not reduced, scientists predict that two-thirds of Himalayan glaciers will be gone during this century. Already, there is a river running through Everest Base Camp, and runnels in the Khumbu Icefall may turn it into a waterfall in the not-too-distant future.Khim Lal Gautam, who was part of the team that measured the height of Mt Everest to greater accuracy in 2020, has climbed the world’s highest mountain twice and has noticed the changes.“The moraine and permafrost here at the Everest Base Camp is melting dangerously. The glacier is collapsing, every time I come here there is less and less ice,” says Gautam.He adds: “The accelerated melting means there is now this big river running through Base Camp. In the last six years, the average temperature here has increased by six degrees.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/it-is-getting-hotter-on-the-roof-of-the-world/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">It is getting hotter on the roof of the world</a>, Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd3569c7e80680e0d3057jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3000" height="671"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Across the Himalaya, iconic peaks like Mt Machapuchre have turned into bare rock during some seasons. Between October 2008 to October 2020, Mt Saipal at 7,031m in far west Nepal lost most of its ice, shocking mountaineers, scientists and locals alike.In 2006, the serac below the summit of Ama Dablam that gave the mountain its name broke off killing six climbers. “Ama Dablam means mother’s necklace, and a chunk of this big block of ice collapsed and thundered down,” says environmentalist and entrepreneur Dawa Steven Sherpa. “We are not just losing our mountains but a large part of our identity and what they mean to us.”Researchers have made similar observations in the Karakoram in Pakistan, in the Tibetan Plateau, Bhutan and India where the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-mountains-are-melting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">permafrost is melting and glaciers receding</a>.“In the past, glaciers in the Karakoram were more stable than elsewhere in the Himalaya … but now even these glaciers have started melting,” says Pakistani remote sensing specialist Sher Muhammad, who is with the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).Accelerated melting has also meant that the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/danger-nepals-glacial-lakes-are-filling-up/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">number of glacial lakes is increasing</a>. Nepal’s longest glacier, Ngozumpa below Mt Cho Oyu, now resembles Swiss cheese, riddled with melt pools and debris. Imja Glacier has turned into a glacial lake in just 30 years.“Imja didn’t used to be a lake, it used to be a solid glacier,” adds Dawa Sherpa. “My father camped on the glacier 60 years ago with a Japanese expedition. Today, we need a rubber boat to be where he was back then.”There are 3,252 glacial lakes in Nepal, and they are shrinking three times faster than in 1998. Many of these are filling up with melt water and are in danger of bursting. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/tracing-past-glacial-floods-in-kangchenjunga/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs)</a> are a threat not just to human settlements but to infrastructure projects, many of them hydropower plants which are built along rivers downstream.The massive debris flow on the Melamchi River in June 2021 that killed at least 30 people, submerged settlements, and nearly destroyed Nepal’s biggest infrastructure project to supply water to Kathmandu, was caused by a heavy monsoon downpour bringing down glacial sediments no longer cemented by permafrost.While melting mountains are more visible, many more people are affected across the Himalaya by springs going dry and reduced flow on rivers. People are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-prepare-for-climate-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">abandoning villages and homesteads</a> because of prolonged droughts and dry springs.Women left behind are having to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/women-and-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">shoulder the burden</a> of household chores including fetching water from further away, even as there is less water to irrigate terrace farms. In parts of Nepal, this has led to an increase in child marriage and the school dropout rate for girls, undermining the country’s past gains.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/global-heating-melts-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Forests replace glaciers in the Himalaya</a>, Tufan Neupane<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd35a9c7e80680e0d3058jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4288" height="2848"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The theme of this year's International Mountain Day on 11 December is 'Women Move Mountains'. Climate change in the mountains is not just a crisis but also an opportunity to empower women and local communities.From rainwater harvesting, reviving ponds, and drip irrigation to planting sugarcane and Napier grass on riverbanks to reduce flood risks, there are many successful examples in Nepal of local adaptation.But much like air pollution, tackling the impact of climate change in the Himalaya needs a cross-border and regional collaboration. In fact, worsening regional air pollution is leading to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/a-terrifying-assessment-of-himalayan-melting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">an acceleration in melting</a>.Black carbon and soot particles from vehicular emission, industries and fires are reaching higher altitudes and increasing the melt rate of glaciers already thawing due to global warming.Says <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/we-have-not-respected-the-fragility-of-the-himalaya/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ICIMOD Director General Pema Gyamtsho</a> from Bhutan: “We need to put more focus on building transboundary cooperation. That has always been our mandate, but I think now, we need to fast forward these initiatives.”The Himalaya has more biodiversity than any other place on earth because of its elevation and moisture range. Researchers say this makes it an extraordinary place for species to flourish. But climate change is impacting on this diversity of plant and animal life that have evolved in the sensitive mountain ecosystem. Many have never been studied and could have immense medicinal and utilitarian value.The recently concluded <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/make-or-break-climate-summits/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">COP27 Climate Summit in Egypt</a> agreed on a mechanism to compensate poorer countries for loss and damage from climate change, but fell short of required decarbonisation targets. There is now serious doubt if global average temperature can be limited to 1.5C above pre-industrial levels.Scientists and governments are meeting in Montréal this week to find ways to avert what they call the 'sixth extinction' -- the largest loss of biodiversity in the planet since the meteorite strike that wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago. Some of this is due to the climate crisis, but human settlements and consumption is also destroying habitats. Just as at COP27 in Egypt, the UN Biodiversity Conference (COP15) in Montréal will also set targets for the global biodiversity framework.Himalayan geographer Alton C Byers who has been studying the impact of climate change on the ecosystem of the Kangchenjunga region warns: “People think mountains are invulnerable, invincible. They are not, they are some of the most fragile ecosystems in the world which is why we need to give them special consideration and protection.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/mountain-women-on-the-climate-frontlines/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mountain women on the climate frontlines</a>, Torun Dramdal and Pema Gyamtsho

Sonia Awale

The climate crisis is a water crisis in the Himalaya

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d137b9c7e80680e0a9924jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1365"/><figcaption>Kathmandu shrouded in smoke and smog from stubble and industrial pollution from northern India, as well as the valley's own vehicular emissions on Monday morning. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>Just as the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/copout-at-cop26/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">deadlocked climate summit in Glasgow</a> was being extended by a day last week, Kathmandu was once again shrouded in smoke and smog from stubble burning and industrial pollution from northern India, as well as the valley’s own vehicular emissions.Nothing could have drawn the link between <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-greenwashing-in-glasgow/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">global negotiations in Scotland</a> to save the planet from catastrophic heating, and the clear and present danger stemming from flawed policies of national governments.India was blamed for watering down the final resolution by changing ‘phaseout’ to ‘phasedown’ of coal, while rich countries like Australia, the US and others did not have to put their cash where their mouths were to make up for historical emissions.There were two Conference of Parties (COPs) going on simultaneously in Glasgow last week: one where mainly male politicians in suits protected their <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/sino-american-impacts-climate-action/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">national interest to negotiate</a> commas and brackets, and the other dominated by young women trying to warn world leaders that it was their future they were messing with.The toxic air covering northern India and Nepal while COP26 was taking place was a stark reminder that developing countries cannot go around hectoring industrialised countries about ‘climate justice’ when their own policies poison their air, water and soil.With winter approaching, it looks like this year’s Indo-Gangetic smog will only get worse since India does not have to ‘phaseout’ coal, and there is no mandatory timetable even for ‘phasing down’.Nepal is not doing much better. Its petroleum import bill is doubling every few years, and we do not see the political commitment to implement provisions in the updated Nationally Determined Contribution, or the Climate Ambition at the Top of the World report that was unveiled in Glasgow.Nepal was praised internationally (and also modestly patted itself in the back) for its three pledges in Glasgow: to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/will-nepal-ever-be-paid-for-saving-trees/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">increase forest cover</a> to 45% by 2030, start reducing emissions to become carbon negative after 2045, and ensure climate resilience for all vulnerable people by 2030.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016114/636d137d9c7e80680e0a9925jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="3600" height="2400"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The forestry target is the most do-able, because Nepal’s total forest area is already at 44.74% -- we just have to make sure no more trees are cut in the next nine years. So, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-save-nijgad-forest-to-receive-climate-funds/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">no Nijgad</a>.But we have no idea how the government expects to help all Nepalis adapt to climate impact. That goal is so vague and non-measureable as to be meaningless.And then there is the aim to be ‘net-zero’ by 2045. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/net-zero-is-not-zero/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Net-zero is an excuse</a> to keep burning fossil fuel, hoping that forests somewhere will absorb the carbon. Besides, net-zero will not protect citizens from toxic emissions car tailpipes and smokestacks.Nepal’s commitment is conditional upon financial support, and there may be a strong moral argument for ‘loss and damage’ compensation because the country only contributes 0.5% of total global greenhouse gas emissions.However, we do not have to wait for donors in order to switch from petro-energy to hydro, solar and wind. Tax rebates for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/from-a-fossil-past-to-an-electric-future/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">electric public transport</a>, subsidies for cooking appliances, switching industries like cement, steel and manufacturing to electricity just need political will.As we have argued here before, Nepal needs to do this not so much to avert a planetary emergency, but to save our economy from collapse, and to protect the public from breathing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/air-pollution-is-more-dangerous-than-smoking/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">poisonous air</a>.Every year, Kathmandu’s pollution level sets a new record. This spring, the Valley’s air quality index (AQI) <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/kathmandu-air-pollution-hits-record-high/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hit nearly 700</a> because of vehicular emissions combined with wildfire smoke. This was 40 times the level deemed safe to breathe by WHO’s new guidelines. Covid patients at ICUs across the country are being replaced by people with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).Given Nepal’s small carbon footprint, we might even attain net-zero status before 2045 because vehicles manufacturers are going electric, so we could not import diesel buses after 2030 even if we wanted to. But government policy must align with our Glasgow pledges. The on-again-off-again tax rebated on EVs in the past four years does not bode well for the future.In addition, Nepalis need help to adapt to cope with the water crisis and resulting food insecurity as well as the impact of weather-related disasters like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/still-chasing-the-melamchi-mirage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Melamchi</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/himalayan-floods-a-sign-of-worse-to-come/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Manang</a> this year.After returning from lobbying rich country delegates in Glasgow, Nepali activists and scientists should now turn their attention to putting pressure on our own government to get climate smart.Sonia Awale

Good COP, bad COP

<figure><img width="640" height="427" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8779c7e80680e0737e2jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SONIA AWALE</figcaption></figure>Haphazard urbanisation, a continually growing population and long delays in the finalisation of the Melamchi Project have resulted in an increasing water scarcity in Kathmandu Valley. But these are not new issues. What is new is that they have become the subject of renewed discussion during the Covid-19 outbreak. The state authorities have repeatedly told people over the last few months to reduce transmission of the virus by washing their hands ‘properly’ (michimichi), scrubbing with soap and water. That this is very difficult to do without easy access to water. Also, this new demand for water comes on top of the usual requirement for safe drinking water and water for other household uses. Most residents of Kathmandu Valley own or rent small dwellings, and only a few are able to find the space for a storage tank on the roof, in the garden or underground. More than 70% of the Valley’s population relies on piped underground water sources officially maintained by the local authorities. Just before the monsoon started this year, the Kathmandu Upatyaka Khanepani Limited (KUKL) was distributing piped water once every 11 days. When the monsoon is over in a month the situation will become acute. Last year’s annual report of the agency shows that the average water supply, after deduction of the 20% losses through leakage, is 103mld/day (million litres per day) as against the total requirement of 430mld/day. Kathmandu has only a quarter of water that is needed (see chart). <figure><img width="512" height="408" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba8799c7e80680e0737e3jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Source: KUKL 2018-19</figcaption></figure>Kathmandu Valley has been suffering from a shortage of water, especially drinking water, since at least the 1980s, and the situation has been getting worse year by year. Policy-makers, engineers and others consider the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/melamchi-coming-to-kathmandu">Melamchi Water Supply Project</a> as the long-term solution. The project was designed to divert fresh water to Kathmandu Valley from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/light-at-the-end-of-the-melamchi-tunnel/">Melamchi River in Sindhupalchok District</a> through a 26km tunnel to Sundarijal. Work on the scheme started in 1998 and it is still under construction, having suffered innumerable delays owing to problems with lending agencies, contractors, and corruption, and, most recently an accident in the tunnel that killed two staff.  When completed, the Melamchi project will be able to supply about 170 mld/day of water, but this will not meet even current demand, let alone future requirements. Since the state utility has not been able to meet water demand, people have come to rely on alternative sources, including wells and boreholes. An  increasing number of households now purchase water as a matter of course from commercial water tankers or, for drinking water, buy plastic jars. Some still rely on <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/renew-commitment-to-preserve-ancient-water-spouts,2931">‘traditional’ sources</a>, such as springs, wells and rivers, water spouts or tanks. Many of these underground water sources, however, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/water-of-the-ages/">have been damaged by the development of urban infrastructure</a> and extraction of underground water on an unprecedented scale in the past three decades.  The <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100">unregulated extraction of underground water</a> by both private operators and KUKL, has lowered the groundwater table. Similarly, new construction has reduced the open spaces that would allow recharge of the water table. One consequence is the destruction or degradation of traditional water systems that have dried up stone spouts and wells that had served the people of the Kathmandu Valley for hundreds if not thousands of years. This water supply system in Kathmandu Valley can be traced back at least to the Licchavi era more than a thousand years. It was not built during a single regime, but gradually improved upon over the centuries. It is only in recent times that it is threatened. <img width="650" height="573" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba87a9c7e80680e0737e4jpeg.jpg" alt="">The major source of water for the stone spouts was the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=9129#.X0yYDSgzaUk">raj kulo (Royal Canal)</a> which started from the foothills on the Valley rim, and fed into ponds which stored and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-must-keep-water-on-its-land/">recharged water for the aquifers</a>, which were themselves largely dependent on rainwater. A single stone spout may have had a single or multiple sources of water. Many were fed by either an individual spring or a local aquifer. Some sunken spouts were fed by shallow aquifers using percolated surface water, others were located near or far from a source. A single aquifer might supply water to a single spout, or to multiple spouts serving a number of communities. Water was channelled through burnt clay or wooden pipes to the stone spouts through passages so that the water could flow easily. Most of the stone spouts had a base platform to capture discharged water, and a drain it through the side which served to supply another stone spout downstream, or irrigate nearby farms, before finally flowing into a river.  When the springs and other water sources went dry and the water level in  shallow aquifers went down, the stone spouts also discharged less water or became dry. In this way, a complex and heterogeneous system was gradually developed over the centuries that utilised water from different sources, channelled it, often over considerable distances, and discharged it eventually through the spout, acting as a tap, for use by local communities.Centuries after they were built, water from these sources are still being used by households, hotels, restaurants, factories and tanker operators, for laundry, personal hygiene and cleaning vegetables. Residents fall back on the traditional systems when there is not enough available water from the government piped system. However, the water is not potable anymore.It is late, but not too late, however, to recognise the potential value of these systems with their multiple water sources, complex distribution channels and stone spouts. With proper conservation, they continue to supply much needed water to people of the Kathmandu Valley, in addition to maintaining an important archaeological heritage and the rich cultural associations of these living monuments, particularly for the Newa people whose forebears built them.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RggblppqixsSince people in Kathmandu Valley still use these water sources for cleaning, washing, bathing, irrigation, they could play an important role by integrating them with modern technologies. Water from these historical systems could contribute to a sustainable solution to the Kathmandu Valley’s increasing water scarcity. The first pre-requisite is that there is no interruption in the water’s source, route and eventual outlet at the spouts by new physical infrastructure. An effective system needs to be devised for adequate water storage in reservoirs or tanks to maintain water supply throughout the year. Along with storage, the water must also be treated appropriately. If these prerequisites are met, water from these age-old spouts could be easily accessible, of good drinking quality, and be free of cost. Given the right storage, the spouts can supply water continuously, complementing the official piped water system or public water tankers -- particularly for low income households which cannot afford to buy water.   <figure><img width="1379" height="748" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba87c9c7e80680e0737e5jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Iku hiti where water from stone spout is still being used for drinking, bathing, washing and cleaning. Photo: RIISHTA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>One working example of just such an outlet with a viable storage system is Iku Hiti in Dhobighat of Lalitpur, where water from the sunken spout flows into a storage tank of 80,000 litres operated by the KUKL, and distributed to people in the nearby communities. Shree Krishna Dongol of KUKL says water is distributed to communities every alternate day from 5AM- 6.30AM, in addition to its own supply which is once a week. Water supply is extended to 9AM-12.30 and 2-4PM during the monsoon. The same pipe is used at homes to distribute water from both the sources and the communities pay according to the meter fixed by KUKL at their homes. The management committee also charges Rs5 / jar for those who collect water for restaurants or hotels. Families pay less, and those who live near the area do not pay at all. The money is used for cleaning and maintenance of the stone spout and its premises. The committee is also constructing a separate pond to wash clothes so that the stone spout area can be clean and safe. <figure><img width="1378" height="689" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141116/636ba87f9c7e80680e0737e6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Washing facility at the Iku Hiti with water from the spout. Photo: RISHTA SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>There are grounds to justify serious initiatives and additional efforts by state and local authorities, non-state entities, private organisations and local communities, to protect, rehabilitate and renew these traditional water supply systems, and to ensure their survival and maintenance, so that they can, once again, meet the needs of the modern residents of Kathmandu Valley. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/positive-alternatives-to-federalism,350">David Seddon</a> has undertaken research and consultancy on development issues in Nepal over several decades.Ranjan Prakash Shrestha, PhD,  has research experience in climate change and indigenous knowledge and practices related to urbanisation and sustainable water resource management.

Solution to Kathmandu’s water crisis

This year, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/quo-vadis-un-80-9vthn7mg">United Nations is marking its 80th anniversary</a> and it is being celebrated with special events across the world to commemorate its establishment on 24 October 1945. It has also been 75 years since the first UN adviser, the Swiss geologist Toni Hagen, was sent to Nepal to explore development opportunities. In 1950, there were no roads and Hagen walked on foot across the length and breadth of Nepal’s mountains, valleys and plains. This year also marks the 60th anniversary of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) in Nepal, and much of Hagen’s work laid the basis for the UN’s involvement in education, health, and connectivity in Nepal’s future development. Despite frequent changes in government and political system, Nepal has made remarkable progress. The poverty rate has gone down by half in the past 30 years to 20.27% of the population. Much of it has to do with remittances from Nepalis working overseas, but it is also a result of the Nepal government’s investment in education, health care and social welfare.&nbsp; There have been special initiatives like the Prime Minister’s Employment Program that have provided jobs to nearly 800,000 people in the country’s 743 municipalities — especially in those areas with lower Human Development Index (HDI) like the far-west and the Tarai.&nbsp; This year’s HDI report by UNDP shows that Nepal’s score had risen to 0.622, whereas it was only 0.404 in 1990. In the past 33 years, the average lifespan of Nepalis has risen by 15.6 years to 70.4 years, whereas it was only 54.8 in 1990. However, the country’s HDI ranking is still 145 among the world’s 193 countries. “Yes, there has been significant improvement in living standards in the past 60 years, road connectivity has improved, the maternal mortality rate has gone down dramatically, almost everyone has phones, there are schools,” says Saru Joshi of the thinktank Nepal Policy Institute. But, she adds: “It is still difficult to get citizenship papers, especially in the name of the mother, and this has excluded many women from banking services, inheritance. After all our progress in physical infrastructure, Nepal now needs to prioritise inclusive social development.”&nbsp; Some of this is also happening. Eighteen years ago, Nabaraj Subedi, 49, of a village in Baglung decided not to join his peers &nbsp;fleeing the Maoist conflict to find work overseas. He invested Rs500,000 to buy a diesel generator and start a small furniture business.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nawaraj Subedi"> <figcaption>Nawaraj Subedi, 49, proprietor of Tarakhola Furniture Factory. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, with the installation of the 380 kilowatt small hydroelectric plant, he does not need to depend on his unreliable generator to power his equipment anymore. There is now a road connecting his village, and Subedi has generated local jobs, opened a sales branch in the city, and gets orders from as far away as Pokhara and Chitwan. “My costs have gone down drastically because of the electricity, and sales have gone up because of the road connecting my furniture to markets. My business has expanded,” Subedi says. Back in 1960 in a report he prepared for the Nepal government on behalf of the United Nations, Toni Hagen had emphasised just this: investing in electricity generation and connectivity to uplift the remote rural areas of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Tarakhola Furniture Factory"> <figcaption>Subedi's staff at the Tarakhola Furniture Factory.</figcaption> </figure>  Subedi’s furniture factory gets its electricity from the nearby Tarakhola Hydropower, a company set up eight years ago with financial and technical support from UNDP’s Renewable Energy for Rural Livelihood (RERL) project. &nbsp; “The project completely transformed living standards in this village,” says municipality chair Dhan Bahadur BK. “It has helped create jobs locally, there is now money to invest in education and healthcare. Households can pay their electricity fees electronically through smart billing.”&nbsp; After working with the government on rural electrification, UNDP is focussed on using that power for local employment creation. A women’s group, for example, has bought an electric-powered potato processing machine that can produce chips.&nbsp; “We are 12 of us mothers, daughters, daughters-in-law who process, package and market the potato that we grow ourselves, and it has raised our income,” says Sukmaya Roka, 57, who chairs the group.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sukamaya Roka"> <figcaption>Sukamaya Roka, 57, chair of Sipa Aalu Chips Utpadan Samuha from Tarakhola Rural Municipality, Baglung. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, 6.1 million households in Nepal (92.2% of total) have electricity in their homes, up from 17.9% 30 years ago. Access to electricity has not just brought lights to homes, but improved everything from productivity, quality of education, healthcare and phone connectivity.&nbsp; “To see what electricity and roads can do, just look at our municipality,” says chair Dhan Bahadur BK, “citizens have become more self-reliant, more aware of the outside world.”&nbsp; NETTLES INTO CASH&nbsp; Just a little bit of training, resource backup and local empowerment can uplift the living standards of Nepalis. The progress made in harvesting abundantly-available allo (nettles) and turning it into household products is an example. When a landslide swept away his home and farm in a flood 40 years ago, Buddhi Purja of Parbat became destitute. But he took part in a government training program supported by UNDP and Australia to harvest the wild nettles that grew on mountain slopes and turn the fabric into bags.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Rhitu Saugat Handicraft"> <figcaption>A worker at Rhitu Saugat Handicraft making a bag out of nettles.</figcaption> </figure>  “After the landslide, we had to go hungry if we did not get a day job,” Purja recalls, “but after this training we have found that we can turn nettles into cash.” His allo bags are now hanging in tourist shops in Pokhara Lakeside and Thamel.&nbsp; The idea that nettles can be processed into useful fabric has not spread across the country, and new ecologically conscious consumers in Europe and elsewhere now import Made in Nepal nettle products.&nbsp; Purja started out with an investment of Rs500,000, and had a Rs20 million business that employed 25 workers. The Covid crisis in 2020 affected the sales, but Purja has recovered from it, sent his daughter off to study abroad, and is thinking of diversifying his product range.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Buddi Purja"> <figcaption>Buddi Purja, proprietor of Rhitu Saugat Handicraft in Pokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  While UNDP’s project has made successful businessmen out of people like Purja, nationwide it has created 187,000 jobs in rural medium-scale industries. Much of what has worked in Nepal has been at the community level with decentralised projects like these that use the entrepreneurship of people like Buddhi Purja, Navaraj Subedi, and Sukmaya Roka. It is tantalising to imagine how much more progress Nepal would have made if their work could be replicated nationside and upscaled to the state-level.

Think locally, invest locally

Public anxiety about immigration has become a powerful political currency across many liberal democracies. In Australia, as elsewhere, legitimate concerns about housing and economic fairness can be, and increasingly are exploited by anti-democratic actors who frame migration not as a policy issue but as a cultural threat.&nbsp;
When these narratives move from online spaces to public rallies, they do more than divide opinion; they erode the social trust and pluralism on which democracy depends. Understanding how populist and far-right movements weaponise migration debates is crucial to recognising the early challenging signs of liberal democracy.
Immigration has become one of the most politically charged issues in Australia, not only because of the numbers but because of its entanglement with cost-of-living pressures, housing shortages, and rent spikes.&nbsp;
The latest Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA) <a href="https://www.unimelb.edu.au/newsroom/news/2025/september/how-we-live-latest-hilda-data-gives-insight-into-a-changing-australia">data</a> shows rising household financial stress as Australian households spending more on rent and income tax. These changes likely reflect a mix of economic and policy factors but create a lot of room for people to hold inaccurate and occasionally contradictory attitudes on these issues.&nbsp;
While net overseas migration has started to decline from its post-pandemic peak, public concern remains high, amplified by populist rhetoric. Some surveys have <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/feb/04/australians-want-less-migration-but-oppose-cutting-international-student-numbers-study-finds">revealed</a> a nuanced picture: most Australians want lower migration overall but oppose cutting international student numbers, and support targeted skilled migration to address workforce gaps.&nbsp;
As former Home Affairs Minister Clare O’Neil <a href="https://minister.homeaffairs.gov.au/ClareONeil/Pages/how-australia-broke-its-migration-system.aspx">argued</a> in 2023, Australia’s migration system is “broken and un-strategic”, not delivering for business, for migrants, or for the larger population. This is a situation that frustrates both sides of the debate and makes immigration an easy political flashpoint.
The recent <a href="https://marchforaustralia.org/">March for Australia</a> rallies turned these anxieties into street-level mobilisation. Tens of thousands <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/czjmre371l1o">protested</a> at what they called ‘mass immigration’, while far-right groups seized the opportunity to inject xenophobic slogans and calls for ‘remigration’ into the public space. These demonstrations were not only about visa caps or housing and jobs; they became performances of who is entitled to belong.&nbsp;
When immigration is framed not as a policy question but as a cultural test of Australianness, it risks shrinking the demos, the very community that democracy is meant to represent.
What made the March for Australia so striking was not only its size but its composition. Recent investigative reporting <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/don-t-mention-hitler-and-you-re-sweet-the-great-march-for-australia-deception-20250909-p5mtlc.html">revealed</a> that neo-Nazi groups were not merely present at the March for Australia rallies but played a role in covertly organising them. They amplified messaging online, coordinated attendance, and sought to mask their involvement to broaden appeal.&nbsp;
This highlights that democratic erosion is rarely spontaneous; it requires actors who deliberately exploit social grievances, mistrust, and polarisation to mobilise anger for their anti-democratic ends. The banners reading ‘<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">Stop Immigration</a>’ revealed that public hostility towards migrants, <a href="https://www.afr.com/politics/federal/pressure-mounts-for-price-to-apologise-to-indian-australians-20250908-p5mt7x">particularly</a> from the Indo-Pacific, is growing.
For many migrants, these displays are more than conceptual debates about white national identity. They are experienced emotionally. Writing shortly after the rallies, Melbourne-based writer Jafrin Kabir <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">reflected</a> that she had never felt so foreign on Australian soil. She pays taxes and inflated rents, contributes skills in the national interest, cheers for the Tillies and calls Melbourne “home”, yet suddenly felt unsafe because of the origin and colour of her skin.&nbsp;
Similarly, Chinese national interviewed by media outlet <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3325127/i-feel-insecure-chinese-nationals-australia-blindsided-anti-immigration-marches">reported</a> cancelling weekend plans and feeling “blindsided” by the scale of the marches.
Scapegoating migrants especially in times of economic stress is an age-old phenomenon and is not just limited to Australia. Across the democratic world, from the United States to the UK and parts of Europe, hostility toward migrants and minorities has become a route for anti-democratic forces. Populist actors often <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/mar/27/peter-dutton-keeps-blaming-migration-for-the-housing-crisis-but-can-it-really-be-that-simple">use</a> cultural anxiety and demographic change to justify illiberal and undemocratic measures, claiming to restore order while actually dismantling checks and balances.
By analysing democratic decay, scholars like Lydia Khalil at the Lowy Institute, <a href="https://interactives.lowyinstitute.org/features/democratic-erosion/">argue</a> that democracies rarely break down at once. Instead, they incrementally weaken through vicious cycles: declining trust in institutions, entrenched division based on hate, the normalisation of political violence, and the bit by bit removal of norms and guardrails.&nbsp;
Though some of the conditions are present in Australia to be exploited by anti-democratic actors, for example, almost two-thirds of Australians believe their leaders intentionally mislead them, according to the <a href="https://www.edelman.com/au/trust/2025/trust-barometer">2025 Edelman Trust Barometer</a>, &nbsp;but their presence is not determinative.
Australia’s democratic guardrails remain strong: independent courts, transparent elections run by the AEC, and a free press continue to hold power to account. Federalism and active civil society further diffuse power and create space for contestation.&nbsp;
But if public trust continues to erode and social divisions deepen, these safeguards will come under strain. Early recognition and action are crucial to ensure that today’s street-level hostilities do not translate into institutional regression.
Preventing such outcome requires a socially embedded understanding of migration, an understanding that goes beyond simplistic optimistic and pessimistic views. Policy makers should go beyond Push-Pull models, functionalist and neoclassical and historical-structural theories.&nbsp;
Consulting the work done by <a href="https://www.guilford.com/books/The-Age-of-Migration/Haas-Castles-Miller/9781462542895#:~:text=International%20Population%20Movements%20in%20the%20Modern%20World,-Hein%20de%20Haas">Hein de Haas</a> et-el, migration should be conceptualised as an intrinsic part of broader processes of development, social transformation and globalisation rather than a 'problem to be solved'. We need more nuanced views that have an eye for the complexity of migration processes and the diversity of its causes and impacts.
Sohail Akhtar is a Melbourne- based researcher focusing on governance, public policy, and migration. He contributes to Lowy Institute Sydney.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/is-street-level-hostility-a-challenge-to-liberal-democracy-reflections-from-australia.html">the original</a> with their permission.

Is street-level hostility a challenge to liberal democracy?

Intricately painted Buddha, Aryatara, Krishna, and Parvati gaze serenely at visitors at the Kathmandu Art Gallery under muted amber lights. Moving from one artful devotion to the next, a quiet, profound connection to the divine envelopes the visitor. This transcends art to the realm of the spiritual. &nbsp; The gallery’s latest exhibition, Masters of Devotion, features art by 22 artists all from Bhaktapur. They also include Ajay Karmacharya, Purna Prasad Hyoju, Nhuche Kaji Bajracharya, Rajani Sinkhwal, Shashi Dhar Sainju, Surya Bahadur Chitrakar and Sundar Sinkhwal from the Khowpa Paubha Chowmi Pucha. Paubha are religious and devotional art depicting deities and mandala that date back to the 7th century, when Newa artists began to paint images of the gods on cloth. For the artists who practice this craft, the art form is as meditative as it is meticulous.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art review "> </figure>  The exhibition at the newly-opened space Kathmandu Art Gallery coincides with the festival season and is a collection of extravagant works done in mineral and stone colour, sakura and gouache. The vintage art space is located at Babar Mahal Revisited and is a fitting accompaniment to the paubha featured in the exhibit.&nbsp; Sundar Sinkhwal’s vividly painted Harihara is among the more eye-catching works. “Half of the painting is Shiva and half is Vishnu, hence the name Harihar,”explains Sinkhwal. “Together with their consorts Parvati and Laxmi, I have painted Uma-Maheswor and Laxmi-Narayan.” Nandi and Garuda, the vehicles of the two gods, complete the vibrant painting.&nbsp; In contrast, for his piece titled Lakshmi, Sinkhwal shrouds his canvas in dark colours to paint Kuber, the deity revered as the custodian to the wealth in the Hindu pantheon, accompanied by two khyak apparitions —one black, the other white— both mythical creatures in Newari folklore.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  “The black khyak is considered inauspicious, while white ones are a symbol of good luck,” explains Sinkhwal. Purna Prasad Hyoju has used mineral paint on canvas for a powerful depiction of Ardhanareswar, the composite form of Shiva and his consort Parvati.&nbsp; “I drew inspiration from the Newari Swasthani story about the separation of Shiva and Satidevi,” says Hyoju. Legend has it that Shiva, unwilling to part from his consort, reincarnated as a unified dual gender form of himself and Parvati. Hyoju has painted goddess Parvati in bright yellow, in homage to one of her other manifestations, Gauri, which means radiant.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Ratna Gopal Sinkhwal’s Kurkula Devi, done in stone pigment, is radiant on the cotton canvas. “Kurkula Devi is a tantric goddess whose traces are found in the Sadhana Mala,” says Sinkhwal. “The stone pigment is what makes the goddess look like she is gleaming.” One of Sinkhwal’s other works draws from stories in the Mahabharat to depict Bhimsen, Draupadi, Dushasan and Akash Bhairav in confrontation, expressions fierce.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  The opening of the exhibition last week also featured a music session, during which some of the artists sang traditional songs. Their voices joined the rhythm of the madal and melody of the harmonium, adding warmth to the crisp autumn evening.&nbsp; Each painstakingly detailed paubha reflects the artists’ devotion to divinity and mythology, as well as their heritage. Masters of Devotion showcases the work of veritable masters of their craft, and is a must-visit for art connoisseurs and devotees alike. Says the gallery’s Sangeeta Rana Thapa: “It is our honour to celebrate the artists’ work—to stand among pieces that embody both devotion and mastery, and to witness a tradition that continues to inspire us.” Masters of Devotion Kathmandu Art Gallery Baber Mahal Revisited Until 22 November

Artful devotion

There was a time when journalism stood as the last wall between power and the people. Facts were sacred, truth was slow but solid, and credibility was the journalist’s only currency.&nbsp;
But today, that wall is collapsing—not because of censorship or corporate control alone, but because of the seductive lure of social media monetisation.
Even seasoned journalists from respected media houses are now opening their own YouTube channels, TikTok accounts, Facebook pages, X (formerly Twitter) feeds, and Instagram reels to earn directly from clicks and views.&nbsp;
Others write paid newsletters on Substack, record sponsored podcasts on Spotify, or stream “news commentary” on Twitch and LinkedIn Live. The platforms may differ, but the logic is the same: attention equals income.
And to earn attention, one must perform.
In this economy of algorithms, the truth alone is not enough—it must be dramatic. A headline must provoke, a thumbnail must shock, and a caption must trigger emotion. Journalism has turned into theatre, where facts compete with feelings for visibility.
When every click means money, the line between journalism and entertainment evaporates. Subtlety dies. Complexity vanishes. Sensation rules. A small dispute becomes a ‘national scandal’, a harmless rumour becomes ‘breaking news’, and the private pain of individuals becomes public spectacle. The more outrage it provokes, the higher the revenue.
Even responsible journalists—those who once double-checked every fact—are now caught in this trap. They post multiple short videos a day, often with half-verified claims, provocative thumbnails, and exaggerated titles. They pick up anything that ‘performs well’—from celebrity gossip to moral outrage—because everything now has content value.
This transformation is not only embarrassing for journalism; it is dangerous for democracy.
Social media platforms like YouTube, TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, X, and Threads do not reward truth—they reward engagement. The algorithms favour emotional content, not ethical content. Outrage spreads faster than reason. As a result, public discourse is shaped not by facts but by friction.
What happens when the nation’s journalists start competing with influencers for attention? When the same person who once reported corruption stories now makes reaction videos for income? The profession loses its dignity, and the audience loses its trust.
It is not that journalists suddenly became unethical—it is that the system has turned them unethical. Platforms pay for popularity, not integrity. Those who play by the rules of truth struggle to survive; those who play by the rules of virality thrive.
This is how the soul of journalism is being auctioned—one click at a time.
Should truth depend on algorithms designed to exploit emotion and outrage?
Can democracy survive when facts are filtered through the logic of monetisation?
If journalism becomes just another hustle for followers and income, the cost will not be limited to credibility—it will be the collapse of civic understanding.
Media houses, journalists, and audiences alike must reclaim journalism from this marketplace of noise. Let news return to its true purpose: to inform, not to inflame. To reveal, not to perform.
Because once we trade truth for entertainment, we won’t just lose journalism—we’ll lose our ability to tell the difference between reality and the show.
Sunil Babu Pant is Executive Director, &nbsp;Mayako Pahichan and founder of Blue Diamond society.

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