It is that time of the year again. The last-minute construction spree is underway to make up for chronic underspending of capital expenditure, right ahead of the new budget to be presented in Parliament on 29 May. The paradox is that while the government faces a severe cash crunch due to falling revenue, it spent only one-third of the development budget in the last 10 months of the fiscal year.&nbsp; The new parties in Parliament like the RSP have been trying to shake things up and urge multi-partisan consultations before the budget, but given the obsolete structure and leadership of the parties, not much is expected to change. But there is a strong argument for tax reform since the government faces a major challenge in balancing revenue with expenditure. The previous government’s ban on luxury items to augment depleting foreign reserves post-pandemic and increased bank interest led to the decline of real estate transactions resulting directly in a drop in revenue. But what makes matters worse is that the government has been profligate in spending beyond its means. Salaries, allowances, administrative expenses, grants and loans have all gone up. The government collected Rs756 billion in revenue in the last 10 months against the target of Rs1.4 trillion whereas its expenditure has exceeded Rs1.04 trillion.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/institutionalised-inequality">Institutionalised inequality</a>, Editorial Taxation is the primary source of income for any government. Contrary to what the wealthiest Nepalis think, the government is not run with their tax money but by what ordinary citizens pay in taxes. &nbsp;While tax evasion concentrates the wealth within the already privileged, the tax the poor pay is not proportional to their earnings. &nbsp; Nepal’s liberal economic policy since 1990 was expected to alleviate the income gap with trickle down effect, but the economic disparity in society is more stark than ever. A 2020 report Equality for Prosperity showed that while the wealthiest 20% of Nepalis own 56.2% of wealth, the poor 20% have only 4.1%. This economic gap is likely to have widened with the current crisis.&nbsp; This income gap is not just in Nepal. Worldwide, a skewed tax system is blamed for rising inequality. A new Oxfam report points out that two-thirds of the wealth that has increased globally after the Covid-19 pandemic is in the hands of the richest 1%. It recommends tax reforms based on wealth accumulation. “Because the tax system is not progressive in Nepal, wealth is piling up in the hands of the rich, while the income of the poor is not increasing,” explains economist Dilliraj Khanal. “We don't have a system of taxing the rich because of policy weakness and dominance of middlemen.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-care-economy">Nepal's care economy</a>, Bina Pradhan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230526050528_6fe0c49de563e6fb210c25501e835186d93ecd57b2f63f8ff8154dca49daeee7.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230526050528_6fe0c49de563e6fb210c25501e835186d93ecd57b2f63f8ff8154dca49daeee7" data-rendition-name="original" width="741" height="541" loading="lazy" alt="Rich-poor gap graph"> </figure>  Who pays taxes? Two-thirds of the government's annual revenue is collected not from corporations and industry, but from various taxes and revenue paid by the general public. The share of tax on corporate profit is in fact very small.&nbsp; In fiscal year 2021/22, the government collected a total of Rs989.62 billion in revenue. Of this, the income tax paid by businesses from the profits earned through private companies is only 5%. So while income tax did bring in Rs229 billion which is 24% of total revenue collected, this amount is largely from the income tax paid by ordinary citizens on their personal income. The tax paid from the profits of private companies is only Rs47.5 billion. When adding public limited companies (issued shares to the general public) and other types of companies, corporate income tax comes to only about Rs114 billion,which is just 11% of the government’s annual revenue.&nbsp; The government collected Rs314 billion from VAT last year, and this made up about one-third of total government revenue. Similarly, Rs241 billion was collected as customs duty and Rs155 billion as excise. “Society with unequal income and wealth, but equal taxes, burdens the poor and favours the rich, it is a regressive tax system that makes it difficult for the poor to survive,” says Khanal. For example, VAT is the same 13% for all Nepalis – rich and poor. &nbsp; “In essence, five-star hotels in Kathmandu and the poor are both taxed equally for LPG fuel,” he adds. “From a social justice standpoint, taxes must be based on income.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ground-reality-of-landlessness-in-nepal/" target="_blank">Ground reality of landlessness in Nepal</a>, Rabi Giri Taxation expert Roop Khadka disagrees, saying it is impractical to have a different VAT rate for rich and poor, and even if it was introduced it would be impossible to enforce. Instead, Khadka favours revoking VAT exemption on goods and services consumed by the upper classes, which are worth nearly Rs100 billion per year. Tax evasion by the rich is another problem that needs to be tightened, and collusion between business and politicians means that the government itself abets tax evasion. Real estate speculation has helped select groups in Nepal to become immensely rich immediately, but the government collects a bare minimum in tax from profits made in land transactions. &nbsp; A real estate sale within five years is required to pay 7% of its profit. If the transition happens within 10 years, only 5% of the profit is taxed. This means most of the astronomical profits made in real estate sales in the past years have gone into the pockets of brokers and large landowners. On the other hand, the 60th report of the Auditor General's Office says many evade tax by showing less than the actual value of the property. The VAT bill scandal 10 years ago also revealed the widespread tax evasion by the commercial sector. The politics of patronage means that businesses are now colluding with politicians and bureaucrats to loot the treasury. The Tax Settlement Commission decided to collect Rs9.54 billion from businesses that have not paid tax for a long time, but the Auditor General's Office later revealed that the decision was made in cahoots with the businesses themselves who actually needed to pay Rs30.52 billion. The most egregious and blatant wrongdoing was by former Finance Minister Janardhan Sharma who was making backroom deals with select business groups importing steel rods and electric vehicles so their products got customised tax breaks in the budget last year. The deal cost Sharma his ministership but the unholy nexus between politicians and business continues with impunity.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/state-sponsored-economic-crisis-ikcxxmnp">State-sponsored economic crisis</a>, Ramesh Kumar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230526050528_60a9385914649170d0496b8864bcb751477820b43554c68bec524f6e2412d39b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230526050528_60a9385914649170d0496b8864bcb751477820b43554c68bec524f6e2412d39b" data-rendition-name="original" width="6124" height="4082" loading="lazy" alt="Kathmandu labourer NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Alternative to the wealth tax In this state, the only sector keeping Nepal’s economy afloat is the estimated $9 billion Nepalis abroad send home every year. Still, Nepal’s debt has reached 43% of GDP, a sharp rise from 28% a decade ago. This will have a direct impact on the tax system. Sooner or later, the government will raise taxes. But for whom?&nbsp; If the status quo continues, and the poor are subjected to more taxes the income gap will widen further, inviting social unrest. Taxation relative to the size of the economy is about 22% in Nepal, one of the highest in South Asia. But for every Rs100 the government receives as revenue, only Rs23 is collected through income tax. The rest is made up of common citizens paying for the consumption of goods and services.&nbsp; All over the world, different levels of income are distinguished and income tax exemption is given to the lowest which is known as a basic exemption. Welfare states also have a weighted system of taxes of the richest that ensures socio-economic equality. But even though there is a flat tax on salary and allowances, windfall profits including from real estate transactions are not taxed properly, leading to a consolidation of wealth among certain groups. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-great-income-divide">Nepal's great income divide</a> Experts have proposed wealth-based taxation to reduce the disparity between rich and poor. Economist Keshab Acharya says that the government should levy an inheritance tax on ancestral property to children as is done in the US, Japan and Europe. This encourages entrepreneurship and inspires the new generation to find creative ways to earn money. But the historical distribution of land in Nepal was largely unfair where families close to the ruling class were granted ownership exempt from tax. These assets have been handed down through generations and ownership of a large part of it is still limited to certain families.&nbsp; Historian Mahesh Chandra Regmi in his book Land Ownership in Nepal states that before 1951, more than one-third of the total arable land had been handed down intergenerationally in that manner. An inheritance tax will also reduce corruption because the mentality that wealth should be passed on to children will be weakened if such a tax is implemented. Meanwhile, land prices in Kathmandu skyrocketed thanks to the government. Since the state has spent on infrastructure that led to the rise in value of property, it should get a share of the profits “The government should get the benefit of increased property valuation in the form of taxes which will increase the spending purse for the welfare of the poor,” explains Khanal. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21822&amp;preview=true" target="_blank">Some are more equal than others</a>, Anil Chitrakar

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Nepal’s tax system widens rich-poor gap

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222e29c7e80680e0c031ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1086" height="724"/><figcaption>Charikot Hospital. Photo: NYAYA HEALTH NEPAL</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s medical industrial complex has modernised healthcare in the country, but it has also pushed treatment out of reach of most citizens.Collusion between politicians and medical magnates has made it so expensive to become a doctor that it has set off a chain reaction to make hospital treatment unaffordable.Meanwhile, government hospitals are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/at-the-covid-19-frontlines-in-rural-nepal/">under-funded, under-staffed and under-motivated</a>. Most medical personnel in district hospitals and health posts moonlight in private clinics, and patient treatment is substandard.Desperate families have to sell property, jewelry and other assets <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-healthy-state/">to afford private treatment</a>, pushing even some middle-class families below the poverty line.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-healthy-state/">In a healthy state</a>, Nepali TimesBut there are notable examples of government hospitals that are running well because of various models of partnership with non-profits, foundations and charities. They prove that affordable high quality healthcare is possible, and those hospitals need not be so expensive to run.There is <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18362#.YrQjS-xByrc">Dhulikhel Hospital</a> which has a tiny registration fee, treatment is low cost, an insurance scheme pays for most treatment, and patients are charged according to their capacity to pay. Despite being a government hospital, Dhulikhel has upheld a consistently high standard of care and treatment.United Mission to Nepal has run a hospital in Tansen for over 60 years, a community hospital in Okhaldhunga, and was till recently managing Patan Hospital, providing high quality care at low cost to patients.Other public-private partnership institutions that could be models to be replicated across Nepal include:<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222e59c7e80680e0c031fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h3>Bayalpata Hospital</h3>After <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal/">Bayalpata Hospital</a> was established in Achham 20 years ago, for many years it did not have a single doctor. Treatment was so poor that even emergency cases had to be taken on a grueling 12 hour drive down to Dhangadi.In those days HIV tagged along with the migrant workers returning from India, and there was a full-blown AIDS and TB epidemic in Achham and other district in Far Western Nepal. The mortality rate, already very high among women and children, soared.In 2009, Nepali and American medical students inspired by the community health model of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/paul-farmer-on-my-mind/">Paul Farmer</a> set up Nyaya Health Nepal (formerly Possible) taking over  Bayalpata under a public-private partnership with the government.Since then, Bayalpata Hospital has upgraded its facilities (left) and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/state-of-the-art-rural-hospital/">treated nearly 1.5 million patients for free</a>, some of them for complicated caesarian and orthopedic surgeries.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/is-free-health-care-possible-in-nepal/">Is free health care possible in Nepal?</a> S P KalauneeUp to 100,000 patients from Achham and surrounding districts come to Bayalpata because they get free treatment there, and many families have saved themselves from sinking into poverty.Bayalpata also runs a network of community health centres with an Electronic Health Record (EHR) system that digitally keeps track of all patients in the catchment area. The presence of just this one hospital has improved the health parameters of surrounding districts, bringing down the maternal and child mortality rates. Achham once had the highest maternal mortality rate in Nepal, today institutional deliveries make up 90% of total deliveries, and very few women die at childbirth.“We have a simple objective: to show that providing free and high quality treatment to the most underserved area of the country is possible at a very low cost,” explains Srijana Devkota of Nyaya Health Nepal.Once <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-Crowdfund-globally-act-locally,490">fully funded by international foundations</a> to run hospitals in Bayalpata and Charikot, NHN now provides free medical treatment in Achham for just Rs200 million a year, of which half now comes from the Sudurpaschim Province and local municipality.+977 - 4100517<a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/">https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/</a><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222e89c7e80680e0c0320jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="401"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h3>Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Centre</h3>The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SpinalNepal/">Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Centre</a> (SIRC) in Banepa is a public-private partnership  providing treatment and rehabilitation to people with spinal injuries. It was started by journalist and civil rights activist Kanak Mani Dixit after his miraculous survival and recovery in a trekking accident in 2000 along the Annapurna Circuit that damaged his spinal cord.SIRC now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/injured-use-internet-to-reach-physiotherapists/">helps rehabilitate up to 100 spinally injured patients</a> a year, and the numbers are going up every year due to injuries sustained in highway accidents and falls from trees and cliffs. The facility was located in Banepa because of its proximity to highways and nearby trauma centres. The hospital has also been providing community treatment and tele-rehabilitation services for follow-ups.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/poor-health-makes-nepalis-poorer/">POOR HEALTH MAKES NEPALIS POORER</a>, EditorialThe hospital has medical officers, urologists, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, nursing care, prosthetics, orthotics, psychologists and consultants. Those who cannot afford to pay are still treated for free, others are charged the same rate as Bir Hospital.“Because patients often have to stay for more than five months, it may be difficult for them to afford the cost, so we charge them according to their capacity to pay,” says SIRC’s Raju Dhakal.SIRC’s annual running cost is Rs50 million, of which most comes from grants by non-profits and other fund-raising activities. The government also chips in with a budget for the physical construction and equipment as well as occasional allocations to cover budget shortfalls.infosirc@wlink.com.np, spinalnepal@gmail.com<a href="https://www.sirc.org.np/">https://www.sirc.org.np/</a><h3>Charikot Primary Health Centre</h3>The 2015 earthquake damaged <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/unique-hospital-handover-in-dolakha/">Charikot Primary Health Centre</a> along with 98% of the medical facilities in Dolakha district. But the disaster was a blessing in disguise for the Charikot centre. It was rebuilt and upgraded to a full-scale 50-bed hospital and managed first by Médecins Sans Frontières and then by the non-profit Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN). Residents of Dolakha did not have to make expensive journeys to Kathmandu because medical treatment was available for free at Charikot.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/dangers-of-privatising-health-insurance-in-nepal/">Dangers of privatising health insurance in Nepal</a>, Gaj B Gurung and Sushil KoiralaIn 2020, NHN handed over management of the hospital to Bagmati Province and Bhimeshwor Municipality which now run the facility with low cost treatment for up to 300 patients a day. The Charikot experiment has been hailed as a model for successful transfer by a private non-profit to the local government, and it has been running well despite the presence of two private hospitals in Charikot.“It has been a seamless handover from Nyaya Health to the government, and the level of care and treatment is the same,” says chief physician Binod Dangal. “We perform caesarean sections, orthopedics, telemedicine, free check-ups for the elderly, children and pregnant women, mental health counselling, and chronic illness monitoring.”+977 49 421125<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114121112/637222ea9c7e80680e0c0321jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="608"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h3>Sagarmatha Chaudhary Eye Hospital</h3>For the past 30 years, the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10071#.YrQlROxByrc">Sagarmatha Chaudhary Eye Hospital</a> in Lahan of Siraha district has been providing the cheapest cataract surgery in the world for just Rs1,200 per operation.Thirty years ago when the hospital started, it had only 12 beds. It now treats 470,000 people every year with patients coming in from as far away as southern India and Bangladesh, and they pay the same amount as Nepalis. Just in the last three years, the eye hospital has treated 321,000 foreign nationals.“It is possible to provide the services at an affordable cost because we are a non-profit, and have an economy of scale,” explains Abhishek Roshan of Sagarmatha Chaudhary Eye Hospital.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/health-tip-editorial,4032">Health tip</a>, EditorialThe hospital has <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10071#.YrQlROxByrc">also set up 15 eye care centres throughout the district, and takes treatment directly to the people</a> so they do not have to make the journey to Lahan. It has a separate department for paediatric services, care for newborn babies with vision problems. In 2021 alone, it performed 1,170 eye surgeries on children.Apart from providing treatment of retina, cornea, glaucoma, oculoplasty, the hospital also serves as an international research centre, collaborating with institutions like The London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine.The hospital subsidises its eye treatment for patients with revenue from its agribusiness ventures. A part of the hospital’s land is dedicated to fish farming, and an orchard for litchi and mangoes, as well as a bamboo grove.“Income from those ventures help us keep the cost of treatment down,” says Roshan. The hospital is also supported by Christian Blind Mission (CBM), the European Commission and Arvis.+977-33- 560080https://www.erec-p.org/sagarmathaRead more: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/national-health-insurance-not-as-easy,4028">A national health insurance scheme is not as easy as it looks</a>, Sonia Awale

Taking wealth out of health

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101152/636a26e49c7e80680e043a3ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1178"/><figcaption>Diwakar Chettri</figcaption></figure>Whatever the political ambitions of the Maoist leaders, their justification for taking up arms was the inequality historically embedded in Nepali society. The rebels lit the spark on terrain that was tinder dry with disparities. Nepal would have gone up in flames sooner or later, the Maoists just had their timing right.The tragedy, of course, is that in an allegory of Animal Farm 13 years after the war, the Maoist leaders people elected to government forgot what they fought for, and Nepal’s income and wealth gap have grown even wider. As our review of a recent report shows, Nepal’s poor are <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/Nepal-%20Multidimensional-Poverty-Index,4115" target="_blank" rel="noopener">trapped in poverty</a> while the few rich have prospered.The report by HAMI, South Asian Alliance for Poverty Eradication and Oxfam paints an alarming picture of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17298" target="_blank" rel="noopener">deprivation</a>  and disparity in Nepal: the average income of the richest 10% of Nepalis is more than three times that of the poorest 40%. Worse, the richest 10% own 26 times the wealth of the poorest 10%.Read also:<a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: 0.01em; font-size: 15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21837&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's great income divide</a>, Ramesh Kumar<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=21822&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Some are more equal than others</a>, Anil Chitrakar<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/gadfly-opinion/removing-poverty-with-jobs/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Removing poverty with jobs</a>, David Seddon<a style="background-color: #ffffff; outline: 0px; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: 0.01em; font-size: 15px;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-a-rich-mans-world/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">It's a rich man's world</a>, Ramesh KumarEconomic inequality is most evident in agriculture in which 66% of Nepalis still depend. The wealthiest 7% of households own 31% of the agricultural land, and many landless are tenant farmers at the mercy of landowners. Social discrimination multiplies the misery: 81% women are landless, as are 44% of Dalits in the Tarai.Nepal’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15026#.XGzGkOQza70" target="_blank" rel="noopener">wealthiest man</a> has a net worth of $1.6 billion and is the 1,561 richest in the Forbes list. His wealth grew by $200 million last year. A history of feudalism, a rent-seeking state and neoliberal economic policies have concentrated Nepal’s wealth in the hands of a dominant elite which has made policies and laws to perpetuate its hold on it. Rulers and hangers-on have deliberately kept the poor out of reach of new opportunities, depriving them of a chance of a better life.Such disparity also gives the movers and shakers an unfair advantage in a democracy because they can bend the system to keep getting elected, which then deprive the underserved even more. Politicians, bureaucrats and businesses can carry on with <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/red-rice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">business-as-usual</a> with no accountability, full impunity and no fear of retribution from a <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/bulldozing-democracy-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">rigged system</a>.The government’s failure to deliver on basic services like health and education have driven the private sector to fill the gap. But consequent over-commericalisation and lack of regulation have put quality schooling and medical care out of reach of the poor. The government’s reaction has been to back a populist call for nationalisation to cover up its own delivery failure.Inequality is taking its toll on the physical and mental development of children. <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-face-of-hunger-debt-malnutrition,3604" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Malnutrition</a> begins at a very young age: 36% of Nepali children under five are stunted, 27% are underweight, and 10% suffer from wasting due to lack of adequate food. There is no greater proof of chronic governance dysfunction than this: the apathy and failure of the state to protect its most vulnerable.No society or nation can have totally equal income or wealth distribution. But there must be a certain equilibrium so that all citizens can attain a basic quality of life and earn a standard, minimum income.But inequality is so bad that the 8 million Nepalis who live in poverty have shorter lifespans. A poor Nepali child is three times more likely to die before age 5 than a rich child. The poor and excluded receive unequal care at government hospitals.What is most tragic is that there is minimal recognition or commitment from successive governments to redress this injustice. Nepal ranks 138, which is nearly at the bottom of a list of 157 countries, for its Commitment to Reducing Inequality. Rampant <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/poor-of-kathmandu,2153" target="_blank" rel="noopener">poverty and extreme inequality</a> build frustration among suffering citizens, increasing the chances of social instability, and possibly renewed conflict. After a revolution to liberate the poor from poverty ended up killing 17,000 of Nepal’s poorest people, the gap between the rich and poor has actually widened.The way countries try to compensate for the inequality inherent in free market capitalism is through progressive land reform and taxation, by spending on a social safety net, and through  government investment in affordable, quality health care and education. There must be minimum wages for even those working in the informal sector, because that is where majority of Nepalis are engaged. All this would lay the foundation for a more equitable society, where the poor may not be immediately guaranteed greater income but all citizens would have a level playing field.We have seen the current government make tentative moves to address some of these issues, but they are too little and too half-hearted. The chasm between the rich and poor is so wide that it will take more than the hollow populism of the government's ‘Prosperous Nepal and Happy Nepalis’ slogan for prosperity and happiness in our lifetime.10 Years ago this weekThis passage from the Editorial in Nepali Times #439 of 19-26 Feburary, 2009 about how the still Royal Nepal Army was trying to reassert itself warns of danger to the civilian chain of command. Excerpt:The Nepal Army's 'recommendations' to the CA Committee on Protection of the National Interest has raised hackles. While it is the fundamental right of every citizen to respond to the CA's call for suggestions, an instrument of state is expected to abide by operational norms of proper procedure. The NA brass has clearly overstepped its limits by bypassing the executive to present its case directly before the legislature. Under normal circumstances, an organ of state has to access parliament through the concerned ministry. But even more alarming is the tone of the content. A civilian chain of command means the army shouldn't have a political position of its own other than that of the government of the day.

Mind the Gap

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Sacred seed feeds boom

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.