<figure><img width="624" height="468" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a59c7e80680e0ac77bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>China's Nepali students still stuck in Kathmandu stage a demonstration requesting for their return to their universities. </figcaption></figure>Nepali students in Chinese universities who had come home for holidays during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/learning-during-the-pandemic-in-nepal/">pandemic</a> have been stuck for two years, unable to return and complete their degrees. Since China formally closed its doors for international students in February 2020, those who had come to Nepal for the winter break in December 2019 and the initial days of the pandemic are still stranded in Kathmandu. Their hopes of completing their studies and career prospects are in limbo.  “My gap year is coming to an end but I’m confused about what steps to take next, I haven’t received any guidelines on conducting medical internships in Nepal,” says Praveer Raj Singh, a medical student at Peking University who has been stuck in Nepal for nearly two years.Away from universities and having to attend <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lockdown-gives-distance-learning-a-boost-in-nepal/">online classes</a> has left Nepali students deeply anxious and desperate, prompting some of them to join WeChat groups like ‘Nepal-China Returning Students’ to organise discussions and initiating petitions to apply pressure on the governments of both Nepal and China as well as their universities. <figure><img width="624" height="351" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a79c7e80680e0ac77cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Nepali medical students studying at Chinese universities stage a protest.</figcaption></figure>Across these WeChat groups, there are new petitions every few days asking students for personal information, which is redundant as every international student studying in China is already required to complete their registration procedure with their details.Since the beginning of the pandemic, China has introduced strict rules for foreign arrivals. Although the novel coronavirus appears to have started here, China has been more successful than most countries in bringing the pandemic under control.The Chinese Communist Party, which recently celebrated its 100th anniversary, does not want to jeopardise its domestic stability ahead of the 2022 Winter Olympics. Hence, China is unlikely to allow international students to return anytime soon, notwithstanding protests or petitions.A more effective approach would be for official in Kathmandu to talk to their Chinese counterparts at a government-to-government level, since that fits in better with China’s top-down approach to doing things.Furthermore, due to the existing language barrier and China’s restrictive internet policies like ‘The Great Firewall’, concerns that are primarily raised in English through platforms like Twitter and Instagram have little to no reach in China. Students have managed to raise awareness, but among themselves and not on the right platforms.  Articles written in Mandarin by Chinese authors about the situation of international students do not have enough reach either, since they have mostly been from personal WeChat blogs. Mainstream Chinese media on the other hand has not touched the issue of international students, and there has been no discussion on popular interactive social media platforms like Weibo, which has over 500 million active users. Similarly, the complaints and petitions brought up by students are mostly conveyed in English or Nepali, which are not effective with a Chinese audience. Student protest is a widely used tool to pressure the authorities and fulfil demands for change in Nepali colleges and universities. That process will not work in China, or with Chinese universities. The petitions and protests may be heard, but do not guarantee sufficient pressure for those in decision-making positions. In fact, students who once believed in protests have since lost hope. An informal survey on WeChat groups by over 100 Nepali students waiting to go back to universities revealed that the majority no longer believe it is a route that can help them return to China. <figure><img width="542" height="413" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d17a99c7e80680e0ac77djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>“Nepali Students in China” Twitter account campaigning to return Nepali students back to China</figcaption></figure><a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&amp;rct=j&amp;q=&amp;esrc=s&amp;source=web&amp;cd=&amp;cad=rja&amp;uact=8&amp;ved=2ahUKEwi4lfifvqvzAhWi83MBHaD0AtsQFnoECAwQAQ&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fenglish.khabarhub.com%2F2021%2F30%2F200079%2F&amp;usg=AOvVaw0XGPpCjNLLSeJI0wihXTdA">Nepali political leaders and the Nepal embassy in China also have been raising the issue with the Chinese authorities</a>, but so far to no avail. Most international students in China do not seem concerned about classmates from other nationalities not returning, and do not raise the issue with their respective universities.  Students who remained in China in 2019 feel lucky to not have rushed back home during the peak of the pandemic. One of them is Aayush Maskey, an undergraduate student of Xidian University in Xi’an.   “There are several opportunities for international students who stayed on  campus, the universities sponsored several city tours,” says Maskey, whose classes are still mostly online but he has a better prospect of jobs and internship opportunities. He is now the face for his university’s promotional campaigns, and has benefited from in-person interactions.  China will eventually let international students in, but only when its government wants to. Until then, the only thing the students can do as what they have been doing since the beginning of the pandemic: wait for further notice. Suniva Chitrakar is an undergraduate student majoring in International Political Economy at Peking University. Aneka R Rajbhandari is pursuing her Master’s degree in Chinese Politics from the Silk Road School, Renmin University.

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China’s Nepali students in limbo

<figure><img width="1500" height="842" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131116/636cec6f9c7e80680e09ad65jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>China’s new batch of medical supplies for Nepal published in Global Times.</figcaption></figure>The Covid-19 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-nears-10k-daily-cases/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second wave ravaging Nepal</a> has raised concern in China’s social media platform Weibo, and prompted some to post appeals for the government to help the neighbouring country in its time of need.The coronavirus surge <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mom-in-delhi-dad-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sweeping India and Nepal</a> has been creating a significant buzz on China’s social media platforms, with comments expressing compassion as well as nationalistic outbursts at the situation in India. Recent news that China was sending a new consignment of medical equipment to Nepal, as well as posts about mismanagement of the Covid-19 surge in India has sparked discussion among the Chinese netizens. The news of the steep rise in cases in Nepal started being reported in the western media mostly after Covid-19 cases were detected at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/everests-covid-dilemma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mt Everest Base Camp</a>. It was only in the past week that the alarming news from Nepal started gaining traction here.The posts appear to reflect residual nationalism from the India-China border conflagration last year, and geopolitical tension between the two Asian giants -- which could not be more different in the way they have tackled the pandemic.One of the most prominent <a href="http://s.weibo.com/weibo?q=%23%E5%B0%BC%E6%B3%8A%E5%B0%94%E7%96%AB%E6%83%85%E4%B8%BA%E4%BD%95%E8%BF%85%E9%80%9F%E6%81%B6%E5%8C%96%23" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hashtags, </a> #尼泊尔疫情为何迅速恶化 (translation: ‘Why the pandemic is rapidly worsening in Nepal’) gained 55 million engagements in 24 hours this week. Even though the hashtag concerns Nepal, most of the posts and replies using it centred around India’s failure to contain the second wave.  <figure><img width="677" height="839" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cec739c7e80680e09ad66jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>CRI News coverage of the rate of positive cases in Nepal at 44% high using the hashtag #尼泊尔疫情为何迅速恶化（Why is the pandemic rapidly worsening in Nepal）</figcaption></figure>Some deliberately derogatory posts that seemed to rejoice in India’s tragedy were taken down after outrage on social media. One post tagging ‘China Lighting a Fire’ showing China’s rocket launch last week side-by-side with ‘<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-56963996" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">India Lighting a Fire</a>’ showing a mass-cremation site in Delhi drew so much backlash from Weibo users inside and outside China that it was deleted.The post was traced to the official Weibo account of the Central Political and Legal Affairs Commission, which is under the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party.   <figure><img width="895" height="936" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cec769c7e80680e09ad67jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>A Weibo post tagging ‘China Lighting a Fire’ showing China’s rocket launch last week side-by-side with ‘India Lighting a Fire’ showing a mass-cremation site in Delhi was deleted after backlash from users.</figcaption></figure>The topic then shifted focus as Chinese netizens worried that Nepal’s Covid-19 spread and response will become similar as that in India. Indeed, the <a href="http://s.weibo.com/weibo?q=%23%E5%B0%BC%E6%B3%8A%E5%B0%94%E6%98%AF%E5%90%A6%E4%BC%9A%E5%8F%98%E6%88%90%E4%B8%8B%E4%B8%80%E4%B8%AA%E5%8D%B0%E5%BA%A6%23" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hashtag</a> #尼泊尔是否变成下一个印度 (translation: “Will Nepal become the next India’) got over 80 million engagements and counting this week. On 8 May, Toutiao News, a major information portal followed the popularity of the hashtag and ran a rather unusual <a href="https://m.weibo.cn/status/4634582304164592?wm=3333_2001&amp;from=10B5093010&amp;sourcetype=weixin" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">week-long poll asking</a> Chinese netizens' opinion on whether ‘Nepal will become the next India’. More than 85% agreed with this possibility, and some even feared that the spread of the pandemic in Nepal could be worse than in India. While most posts have lumped Nepal and India together on the Covid-19 theme, others have drawn attention to the Nepal-China friendship and urged the Chinese government to help Nepal with emergency supplies.‘Isn’t Nepal a good friend of China? All efforts should be made to help them,’ said one post, while some others asked that immediate support be rushed to China’s ‘good neighbour’. Just as the western media’s concern about Nepal’s pandemic is largely limited to Mt Everest, the Chinese social media focus is India-centered. Global Times, China’s state-affiliated media, even ran a story highlighting how Chinese enterprises in Nepal were trying to <a href="https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202105/1222721.shtml" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prevent Nepal from becoming a ‘mini India’.</a>   <figure><img width="677" height="837" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cec789c7e80680e09ad68jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Toutiao News report on Nepal's surging COVID-19 cases using hashtag #尼泊尔正在变成一个迷你印度（Nepal is becoming a mini India)</figcaption></figure><figure><img width="677" height="750" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110131120/636cec7b9c7e80680e09ad69jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Toutiao News’ week-long poll on whether Nepal will become the next India. Source: TOUTIAO</figcaption></figure>China has offered assistance to India to respond to the pandemic, and <a href="https://www.hindustantimes.com/world-news/firmly-support-india-in-fight-against-covid-19-wang-yi-writes-to-jaishankar-101619714772524.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">after a statement of concern by Foreign Minister Wang Yi</a> with an expression of support, many Chinese social media users have urged similar help for Nepal. Indeed, Beijing seems to be responding. A Nepal Airlines plane is flying to Beijing on Monday night to bring <a href="http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2021-05/08/c_139932642.htm" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">China’s offer of </a>20,000 oxygen cylinders and other medical essentials, as Nepal’s hospitals struggle to cope with the seriously ill. A similar flight last month brought back 800,000 doses of the Chinese VeroCell vaccine donated by China.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-begins-covid-19-vaccination-drive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s vaccination program</a> has ground to a halt after an early promising start after India stopped further export of the Covishield AstraZeneca vaccine manufactured by the Serum Institute even though Nepal had already paid for 2 million doses.Social media posts here quote the Chinese saying ‘A close friend is better than a distant relative’, but others have also urged Nepal to improve its governance and delivery instead of just depending on the outside world for help.One Chinese social media post notes: ‘The spread of Covid-19 will make China a ‘thin horse’ so it should not just give assistance for free.” The growing debate on China’s foreign assistance, both at policy-making level and on social media, hints that countries like Nepal should focus more on early preparedness and control as most other countries grapple with their own Covid-19 crisis. Aneka Rebecca Rajbhandari studies political science at Peking University. Raunab Singh Khatri is a graduate student in economics at Yenching Academy of Peking University.

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Concern in China over Nepal Covid-19 surge

<figure><img width="1500" height="842" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b844e9c7e80680e067788jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>China’s new batch of medical supplies for Nepal published in Global Times.</figcaption></figure>The Covid-19 <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-nears-10k-daily-cases/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">second wave ravaging Nepal</a> has raised concern in China’s social media platform Weibo, and prompted some to post appeals for the government to help the neighbouring country in its time of need.The coronavirus surge <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/mom-in-delhi-dad-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sweeping India and Nepal</a> has been creating a significant buzz on China’s social media platforms, with comments expressing compassion as well as nationalistic outbursts at the situation in India. Recent news that China was sending a new consignment of medical equipment to Nepal, as well as posts about mismanagement of the Covid-19 surge in India has sparked discussion among the Chinese netizens. The news of the steep rise in cases in Nepal started being reported in the western media mostly after Covid-19 cases were detected at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/everests-covid-dilemma/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Mt Everest Base Camp</a>. It was only in the past week that the alarming news from Nepal started gaining traction here.The posts appear to reflect residual nationalism from the India-China border conflagration last year, and geopolitical tension between the two Asian giants -- which could not be more different in the way they have tackled the pandemic.One of the most prominent <a href="http://s.weibo.com/weibo?q=%23%E5%B0%BC%E6%B3%8A%E5%B0%94%E7%96%AB%E6%83%85%E4%B8%BA%E4%BD%95%E8%BF%85%E9%80%9F%E6%81%B6%E5%8C%96%23" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hashtags, </a> #尼泊尔疫情为何迅速恶化 (translation: ‘Why the pandemic is rapidly worsening in Nepal’) gained 55 million engagements in 24 hours this week. Even though the hashtag concerns Nepal, most of the posts and replies using it centred around India’s failure to contain the second wave.  <figure><img width="677" height="839" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b84519c7e80680e067789jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some deliberately derogatory posts that seemed to rejoice in India’s tragedy were taken down after outrage on social media. One post tagging ‘China Lighting a Fire’ showing China’s rocket launch last week side-by-side with ‘<a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-56963996" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">India Lighting a Fire</a>’ showing a mass-cremation site in Delhi drew so much backlash from Weibo users inside and outside China that it was deleted.The post was traced to the official Weibo account of the Central Political and Legal Affairs Commission, which is under the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party.   <figure><img width="895" height="936" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b84549c7e80680e06778ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The topic then shifted focus as Chinese netizens worried that Nepal’s Covid-19 spread and response will become similar as that in India. Indeed, the <a href="http://s.weibo.com/weibo?q=%23%E5%B0%BC%E6%B3%8A%E5%B0%94%E6%98%AF%E5%90%A6%E4%BC%9A%E5%8F%98%E6%88%90%E4%B8%8B%E4%B8%80%E4%B8%AA%E5%8D%B0%E5%BA%A6%23" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hashtag</a> #尼泊尔是否变成下一个印度 (translation: “Will Nepal become the next India’) got over 80 million engagements and counting this week. On 8 May, Toutiao News, a major information portal followed the popularity of the hashtag and ran a rather unusual <a href="https://m.weibo.cn/status/4634582304164592?wm=3333_2001&amp;from=10B5093010&amp;sourcetype=weixin" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">week-long poll asking</a> Chinese netizens' opinion on whether ‘Nepal will become the next India’. More than 85% agreed with this possibility, and some even feared that the spread of the pandemic in Nepal could be worse than in India. While most posts have lumped Nepal and India together on the Covid-19 theme, others have drawn attention to the Nepal-China friendship and urged the Chinese government to help Nepal with emergency supplies.‘Isn’t Nepal a good friend of China? All efforts should be made to help them,’ said one post, while some others asked that immediate support be rushed to China’s ‘good neighbour’. Just as the western media’s concern about Nepal’s pandemic is largely limited to Mt Everest, the Chinese social media focus is India-centered. Global Times, China’s state-affiliated media, even ran a story highlighting how Chinese enterprises in Nepal were trying to <a href="https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202105/1222721.shtml" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">prevent Nepal from becoming a ‘mini India’.</a>   <figure><img width="677" height="837" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b84569c7e80680e06778bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="677" height="750" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109111140/636b84599c7e80680e06778cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>China has offered assistance to India to respond to the pandemic, and <a href="https://www.hindustantimes.com/world-news/firmly-support-india-in-fight-against-covid-19-wang-yi-writes-to-jaishankar-101619714772524.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">after a statement of concern by Foreign Minister Wang Yi</a> with an expression of support, many Chinese social media users have urged similar help for Nepal. Indeed, Beijing seems to be responding. A Nepal Airlines plane is flying to Beijing on Monday night to bring <a href="http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2021-05/08/c_139932642.htm" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">China’s offer of </a>20,000 oxygen cylinders and other medical essentials, as Nepal’s hospitals struggle to cope with the seriously ill. A similar flight last month brought back 800,000 doses of the Chinese VeroCell vaccine donated by China.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-begins-covid-19-vaccination-drive/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal’s vaccination program</a> has ground to a halt after an early promising start after India stopped further export of the Covishield AstraZeneca vaccine manufactured by the Serum Institute even though Nepal had already paid for 2 million doses.Social media posts here quote the Chinese saying ‘A close friend is better than a distant relative’, but others have also urged Nepal to improve its governance and delivery instead of just depending on the outside world for help.One Chinese social media post notes: ‘The spread of Covid-19 will make China a ‘thin horse’ so it should not just give assistance for free.” The growing debate on China’s foreign assistance, both at policy-making level and on social media, hints that countries like Nepal should focus more on early preparedness and control as most other countries grapple with their own Covid-19 crisis. Aneka Rebecca Rajbhandari studies political science at Peking University. Raunab Singh Khatri is a graduate student in economics at Yenching Academy of Peking University.

Nepal’s month-long cricket carnival ended on a sunny Saturday in Kathmandu with a final game in which the Lumbini Lions dominated the Sudurpaschim Royals with both bat and ball.&nbsp; The Royals were bowled out for an embarrassing 85, thanks to Namibian Ruben Trumplemann’s three wickets for three runs, and captain Rohit Paudel’s hat-trick in the eleventh over. Only opener Ishan Pandey’s 33 run-innings was of any note.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121315120_ced9258f9503a03fe53760d5ff420136ea9cfbaf3001512399ec5cafeef25364" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="909" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251213141232_0b712b438a97b49747029e4b3884b0eeba8ec0ff0bfbc5fd3d61cbb2002a16c2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1345" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  The Lions came out with virtually no pressure on them, and Dinesh Adhikari’s 42 off 13 including 27 off the first over bowled by Dipendra Singh Airee won the match. Rohit Paudel came in to finish the match calmly, with 11 overs to spare, scoring two stylish fours and a six before holing out with the Lions on 83.&nbsp; The Lions took comically long to get the final two runs to win the game, losing one more wicket. But it was merely a matter of time, and a single ended the Royal’s misery.&nbsp; As dusk fell, the big fluffy lion mascot was on the field dapping up the Lions as red fireworks went off and Lumbini fans leaped from their seats in the packed stands.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251213141232_ba4c4fde1865c583cf324d253563a0fc96002c31e8381ee85850f71c67515ea9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  This capped off an incredible run from the Lions who had finished dead last in NPL Season 1, and had only one win and three losses after four games. They won the remaining three, finishing fourth, barely qualifying.&nbsp; This meant that they had to play an eliminator last week against the Kathmandu Gorkhas and then a qualifier against the popular Biratnagar Kings, whose squad included Sandeep Lamichhane, Faf du Plessis, and Martin Guptill. They won both in style. For the Royals, however, this was the second disappointing final in a row after being the best team in the group stage in both seasons of the NPL. National team batsman Binod Bhandari had had an excellent tournament for the Royals, but was in tears at having come this far again and fallen short.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251213141228_a90fd0afaeec366416efe314464d6b1152bd9cca011346b77914c2037b6b156e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="NPL 2"> </figure>  Despite the final being disappointingly less action-packed for the neutral viewer, the final marked the second successful execution of the NPL. The addition of seats and floodlights at the TU Cricket Stadium overlooking Kathmandu made evening games possible and improved the experience for fans.&nbsp; The floodlights also made for some gorgeous photography as the sun set behind Chandragiri, illuminating the Himalaya to the north in gradually fading shades of orange.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251205041256_280bea0db1d097c88d478f5ba7197b5e2faa05623ebf9c0438af46d85bdb891e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Adam Rossington’s 323 runs, including a century, and Sandeep Lamichhane’s 17 wickets were the standout individual performances across the tournament in the past month.&nbsp; The tournament brought out characters much loved by the vociferous crowd, including ‘Taklu’ Irish commentator Andrew Leonard who worked in a Dhaka Topi, British presenter Jess Crowe who donned a Sari for the final, and Chitwan Rhinos’ charismatic mascot Mr Gaida who entertained the crowd with enthusiastic nonstop dancing.&nbsp; The tournament was such a draw that the university grounds looked like a carnival with food and merchandise stalls. The capacity 10,000 stadium drew such a crowd that Kathmandu streets were relatively quiet on Saturday with people also watching the game live on tv at home.&nbsp; Kathmandu’s residents were genuinely delighted at being able to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/cricket-carnival">a Nepali cricket tournament</a>, and not about the Indian or English Premier Leagues. And while everyone appreciated the cricket no matter who was playing, fans showed up for their provinces in loud numbers.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251205041256_e96211da042ec3043940f2feca4cd59dd00351af41a4ca029169871f69f51957" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="911" loading="lazy" alt="Cricket carnival NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The organisers having proven themselves, future NPLs may need more stadiums in other provinces, even better overseas players.&nbsp; Sambhav Sirohiya of the Kathmandu Media Group ambitiously tweeted that he believes that the league could already become the second most valuable franchise cricket league NEXT SEASON, especially if the government would loosen up its regulations of advertising, especially that of alcohol. Nepali cricketers and fans are now better prepared for the T20 World Cup in India and Sri Lanka in February, with the experience of playing in the NPL and with the access to world-class cricket talent and seeing how they go about excelling at the sport.&nbsp;

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

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

People like myself were too young during the decade of the Maoist War to remember its horrors. We often wonder what life was truly like back then. Perhaps the closest we have come to experiencing a national crisis of that scale – with the protests, violence, curfews, and political maneuvering – was the GenZ movement in September. How did people cope? What did they fear? What was it like in the cities and &nbsp;villages? How was it that the king still held so much power? What motivated the guerrillas? And, how did &nbsp;ordinary people adjust and endure the war? My curiosity about the war that ended 20 years ago &nbsp;was met with a rollercoaster of emotions with Monica Rana’s debut novel, The Paths We Choose. The novel is not a retelling of events from the vantage of leaders, rebels. It is not about the violence, but a carefully curated perspective of ordinary people caught up in it. It is a glimpse into how the war altered or defined their paths. This is the 'People’s War' from the people’s own perspective. Readers are immediately invested into the lives of two central characters, the sister duo, Sumnima and Rita. The elder radiating from the beginning with her brave and cunning aura, and the latter, more timid and obedient, much of her time absorbed in awe of her sister. The writer’s language flows as effortlessly as the sisters’ strides up the hills to steal mangoes from Dhire Dai’s trees, only to race back down to Rato Mato, carrying us through their journey into adolescence. Amidst the rolling hills, mango trees, life is filled with laughter, adventures, and everyday banter, scenes so serene that they carry an unsettling calm that hints at what lies ahead. Village life is not all painted in romantic hues. The stark reality of poverty, subsistence, and contrast with the comfort of city living are never far away. Amidst these reminders, there runs a humbling truth: happiness once rested on small things, not on the material excess that define urban life. As the pages turn, the title begins to resonate: two sisters, once bound by the same bloodline, shared dreams, and the same roof, are caught in the crosshairs of war and forced onto separate paths. One by choice, and the other by necessity. The story unfolds with the seasons: the relentless monsoon rains, the scorching heat of summer, and a liberating winter that carries bittersweet truths. The year is 2001, as the insurgency intensifies. Against this backdrop, the cousins’ lives diverge. Sumnima is drawn into the rebels’ ranks to 'fight for equality and freedom', while Rita is uprooted, carried across distances, and placed in Seto Bangala as a helping hand among the higher-ups, in her family’s desperate attempt to secure her a better life after their village is reduced to a 'ghost city' by violent attacks. There are betrayals and beginnings, high palaces and humble hills, royals and rurals, identity and ideology, loss and lament, distance and discovery. Through upheavals, tears, and struggles, one thing remains constant: both sisters wonder about the other. They care. They long to reconnect. They hold fast to the dream they once shared to open a guesthouse in their village someday. A dream to simply live with no fear. To be free. To be happy. And, to be together. The writing illuminates vital themes: innocent people caught up in strife, the vast chasm of class from royals dining on silver plates to villagers back home hiding their last grain to save it from looters. And discrimination so stark it was as if people carried labels on their foreheads, marked by caste, skin colour, and gender. The sisters eventually reunite, but their journey is not an easy one, and what lies ahead is far from the future either of them once imagined. One might romanticise it as fate, or might recoil at the harsh reality Monica Rana lays bare: it is often the innocent who bear the heaviest burdens of war. Civilians are trapped between warring sides, enduring hunger, displacement, and violence through no fault of their own. Wars continue to rage across the world. Though the novel does not particularly focus on exposing the horrifying depths of war crimes, it remains a timeless reminder of what the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish once said: “The war will end, and leaders will shake hands. The old woman will keep waiting for her martyred son. And those children will keep waiting for their hero father. I don’t know who sold our homeland, but I saw who paid the price.” &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251213031240_2f7c62e392a430082c1627719e014f82b857118e226299e1590d74503387ae93" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="The paths we choose book review"> </figure>

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Concern in China over Nepal Covid-19 surge

Lumbini gets the lion’s share

The Himalaya is not fragile

My father’s son

The war between people