Every dawn in the Himalaya, before anyone else wakes up, women set out with empty vessels to collect <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-silent-emergency-springs-going-dry">water from the springs</a>. They know these springs as intimately as their own breath.
They can tell you when the flow began to slow, how the taste subtly changed, often after a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-road-out-of-nepal">new road was built </a>nearby or some development took place upstream. They feel these changes long before anyone comes to measure them. And yet, women are almost always left out of the conversations when “experts” gather to talk about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/people-and-mountains-are-thirsty-in-eastern-nepal">saving the springs</a>.
Having spent years studying the science behind Himalayan springs, especially i<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-climate-crisis-is-a-water-crisis-in-the-himalaya">n rural hills and mountain regions</a>, I am certain it is the women who know the springs best.
Springs are not just hydrogeological features, they are vital social spaces woven deeply into the daily lives and identities of the communities that depend on them.
Women often walk long distances to collect water, wash clothes, and bathe at the springs, but the journey is even more arduous for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalits-disasters-and-discrimination">Indigenous and Dalit </a>women who are denied equal <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/access-to-water-changes-the-face-of-rural-nepal">access to water</a>. Yet, often without recognition, these women become the custodians of the springs – intuitively sensing, and monitoring changes in water quantity and quality.
But recognition rarely translates into real participation. In many water user committees, women are appointed to leadership roles, but their actual influence is quite minimal. They are often not given space to speak during meetings, <a href="about:blank">excluded from key planning discussions</a>, or merely asked to sign off on decisions already made. This is not empowerment but tokenism, and happens also at the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/women-first-in-2027-wfnchctq">institutional and policy levels</a>.
In many community meetings I attended, few women spoke even though they were the primary users of water. This gap between scientific planning and lived community realities made it clear that without inclusive processes, even the best restoration plans fall short. This exclusion is not only unjust, it is one of the primary reasons why multi-million-dollar spring revival projects often fail. Solutions designed without the sight of those who use and monitor the springs daily are bound to miss the mark.
Understanding recharge zones and aquifer dynamics is essential for springshed management. But so is the critical insight into who accesses the spring, when, how often, and for what purpose. Technical professionals often focus on the ‘where’ and the ‘how’ of water, but we must also ask for whom? Who uses this water? Who monitors it? And crucially, who is excluded from the conversation?
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-heat-beneath-our-feet"> The heat beneath our feet</a>, Sahina Shrestha&nbsp;
Moving beyond tokenism requires embedding Gender Equality and Social Inclusion (GESI) into the core of springshed management, not as a box-ticking exercise, but as a foundational approach.
It means the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/female-migrant-workers-hold-up-half-the-sky">active engagement of women</a>, Indigenous communities, and Dalits from the very beginning – mapping their access and dependence on springs, prioritising springs based on their needs, and creating safe spaces for dialogue and discussion, training them as Community Resource Persons (CRPs) and para-hydrogeologists, encouraging women to take meaningful leadership roles in local spring water user committees, and ensuring that interventions are designed to promote equitable sharing of benefits. We must monitor how spring depletion and revival affect women, children, and marginalised groups.
When these groups are involved in mapping, monitoring, and decision-making, the outcomes are more equitable. There is better local ownership, the data is more consistent, and solutions are more grounded in the lived realities of the people dependent on springs.
TOKENISM TO EMPOWERMENT
Using simple digital tools, women, youth, and marginalised groups trained as CRPs have mapped over 6,600 springs across two districts: seven municipalities of Kavre and two more in Dhankuta, tasks that were once only the domain of technical experts.
This change was made possible by engaging female trainers, scheduling sessions at times that suited participants, and fostering <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/inclusiveness-not-just-theory-in-this-school">inclusive learning spaces</a>. Their work proved that locally led science is not just inclusive, it is highly efficient. This would not have been possible if GESI was an afterthought, it was a guiding principle shaping every step of the process, from planning to implementation.
“In the beginning, I was unsure how to proceed with the training, but as I got involved, I learned that using a mobile app makes it much easier to understand and document everything. We can survey all the spring sources directly by downloading the app,” says Ganga Badal Tiwari from Panchkhal Municipality, one of the female participants in the spring source mapping training session held in April 2024.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/kathmandu-s-liquid-landscape">Kathmandu’s liquid landscape</a>, Sudiksha Tuladhar
Ganga and other women in the community now actively participate in technical tasks traditionally dominated by men, building their skills and confidence in water resource management and strengthening their role as key contributors to community-led springshed conservation. What might have taken technical team months to map was achieved in record time, driven by local knowledge and ownership.
In line with the theme for this year’s World Water Week – Water for Climate Action – we must recognise that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/mountain-women-on-the-climate-frontlines">climate action</a> begins when we move from tokenism to meaningful participation and leadership.
As a woman in geosciences, I understand the transformative power of inclusion. We need more than open doors – we need to redesign the space for women, Indigenous Peoples, and other marginalised groups in the technical and policy spaces.
Sustainable and effective <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/water-for-life">springshed management </a>enhances water availability and directly supports community resilience against climate impacts. But it demands equity and inclusion at its core, making gender equality and social inclusion essential for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-needs-to-plan-for-plenty-and-scarcity-of-water">managing water resources </a>that serve everyone.
Goma Khadka is a geologist whose work focuses on fostering community engagement and participatory approaches to promote GESI-responsive springshed management in the Himalaya. She currently works at ICIMOD on a project supported by the United Kingdom International Development.

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Saving our springs

One of the most powerful recent examples of hyperlocal conservation in the Himalaya is the effort by two sisters from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/time-catching-up-with-timeless-dolpo?fbclid=IwAR2B6FetDVAJWvgdfdSjZMmfqm8HkNhs9111d-rxaMyDHDKU_SiVsgjQ0ew" target="_blank">Dolpo</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-leads-in-snow-leopard-study" target="_blank">Tshiring Lhamu Lama</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/trekking-to-save-nepals-snow-leopards" target="_blank">Sonam Choekyi Lama</a>, to protect Nepal’s snow leopards. Their decade-long work to save the endangered and elusive Himalayan cat in this distant district of Nepal is now featured in a compelling new documentary. <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt31034190/" target="_blank">The Snow Leopard Sisters</a> has been doing rounds of film festivals in North America to critical acclaim since its world premiere at <a href="https://www.sxsw.com/" target="_blank">SXSW</a> in Austin in March, and has been screened at <a href="https://www.mountainfilm.org/festival/" target="_blank">Telluride</a> and other festivals. The documentary received much praise for its many-layered depiction of the struggle between ecology and economics, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/image/Lucky-number-7,1036" target="_blank">tradition and modernity</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo" target="_blank">indigenous and mainstream</a>, spiritualism and materialism, gender equality and entrenched patriarchy, and <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_879.pdf" target="_blank">conservation versus livelihoods</a>. The sisters in the Snow Leopard Sisters are actually not <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Shey-Phoksundo-may-soon-become-a-bus-park,3975" target="_blank">Tshiring Lhamu</a> and Sonam Choekyi. Tshiring is the documentary’s main protagonist, and her sister Sonam is the film’s co-director currently based in New York. Sisters refers to Tshiring Lhamu and 17-year-old Tenzin Bhuti whom she takes on as an apprentice for snow leopard research in Upper Dolpo. Tenzin’s women-led household had just lost 40 of its goats to a snow leopard attack, and Tshiring knows that snow leopards cannot be saved unless the Dolpopa learn to live with the cats. The nocturnal predators have this cruel habit of entering livestock corrals and killing for the sake of killing many more goats and yaks than they can possibly eat. But snow leopards are also regarded as sacred <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ghosts-of-the-himalaya" target="_blank">‘pets of the gods’</a> in the Buddhist regions of northern Nepal. There are only about 400 snow leopards in Nepal, 90 of them in Shey-Phoksundo National Park in Dolpo where their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/guarding-the-guardians-of-the-himalaya" target="_blank">numbers are shrinking</a> because of retaliatory poisoning by herders to protect livestock and climate breakdown. Ever since she was growing up, Tshiring Lhamu harboured a deep spiritual affinity for snow leopards. At the beginning of the film, we see Tshiring playing back a camera trap clip of the trail above Phoksundo Lake when she sees a pair of snow leopards ambling past the field of vision.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250812140852_e844fff70ec3adf236b224b5ef343bc0a2435e00815479df3a95a6aa3d9b67b2.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250812140852_e844fff70ec3adf236b224b5ef343bc0a2435e00815479df3a95a6aa3d9b67b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1068" height="1498" loading="lazy" alt="Snow Leopard sisters"> </figure>  She lets out an ecstatic shriek, and narrates: “The first time I saw snow leopards, I fell in love.” Tshiring Lhamu quit her job with the national park and struck off on her lonely quest to find ways to save the cats from revenge attacks of herders. The film follows a parallel plot of Tenzin, who has just lost a sister she was close to, the family’s goat herd has been massacred by snow leopards, and her father is jailed. She is under pressure from her grandfather to get married “because it is our culture and karma”. The stories of the two women then converge: Tshiring Lhamu takes Tenzin under her wing as a trainee. Because her family is angry with snow leopards, it will help if she can convince Tenzin about the importance of conservation which she can then pass on to her community. But the family gives Tenzin a two-week ultimatum, she will have to get married to a cousin after the apprenticeship is over. Directors Ben Ayers, Andrew Lynch and Sonam Choekyi Lama have used Dolpo’s stunning landscape as a backdrop for a nuanced and sensitive portrayal of the bond between the two women in their quest to find snow leopards — with Tshiring’s baby son Sontse strapped to her back. There are spectacular drone shots of the three as they cross the high passes to Komang and Shey Gompa. The cinematography evokes the sweeping scenery of films shot in Dolpo like <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8861" target="_blank">Éric Valli</a>’s 1999 documentary <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13437" target="_blank">Caravan</a>, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/min-bahadur-bham-s-cinematic-quest" target="_blank">Min Bahadur Bham</a>’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2EXOwDgrIg&amp;t=25s" target="_blank">Shambhala</a> last year. The snow leopard is up there in the crags somewhere, sleeping. But in the mornings and evenings, they are so well camouflaged they are invisible. All this is also reminiscent of <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/peter-matthiessens-the-snow-leopard-in-the-age-of-climate-change" target="_blank">Peter Matthiessen</a>’s 1974 book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Snow-Leopard-Penguin-Classics/dp/0143105515" target="_blank">The Snow Leopard</a> about his unsuccessful quest with zoologist George Schaller to sight the animal in Dolpo. The snow leopard becomes a spiritual and existential symbol of something much greater than just the cat. There is a similar transcendental undertone in Snow Leopard Sisters, as the camera follows the two scouring the jagged horizon through binoculars. Tshiring patiently mentors Tenzin about data-keeping, analysing tracks in the snow, sniffing urinary markers, deciphering fresh scat, finding fur stuck to rocks, and installing cameras.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250812140848_62407d923f1d10bc5021b7a89ba1f6293aa2365ee650a49528e9b132b31704ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250812140848_62407d923f1d10bc5021b7a89ba1f6293aa2365ee650a49528e9b132b31704ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="675" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Snow Leopard Sisters"> </figure>  Tshiring Lhamu and Tenzin Bhuti pin their hope on monks, hoping that they can convince their congregation not to kill the predators. But in Shey-Saldang, monk Tondup Lama tells the two women the snow leopard is a “demon, possessed by the devil … it has only sin its heart”. The dejected women and baby press on over the 5,010m Shey Pass to where head monk Lopan Dawa Tenzin in Tsakang Monastery has declared Dolpo a haven for all animals. “Everywhere people are violating the rights of animals, we destroy forests, we hunt, we set fires, fight wars, and drive animals away,” the monk says. “People have too much greed.” It is karma that has brought the two women together, he tells them, and their karma is now intertwined with the karma of the snow leopard. As the two-week internship nears its end, the prospect of marriage looms for Tenzin. But it is clear that the time with Tshiring has empowered her, she is now more confident and is determined not to get married. She visits her father in the prison in Dunai, who does not insist on marriage anymore. In an abrupt change of scenery, we see Tshring walking down a street in San Francisco with Sontse in a baby carrier on her back. Instead of towering mountains there are skyscrapers, and a sad snow leopard in the zoo. She is at a <a href="https://wildnet.org/" target="_blank">Wildlife Conservation Network </a>conference to speak and fundraise for her work in Dolpo. The Snow Leopard Sisters Impact Campaign is building new leopard-proof corrals for herders in Dolpo made by assembling light weight metal frames and gabion wire designed by Tshiring and Tenzin. This feature-length documentary needs to be screened in cinemas across Nepal not just to spread awareness about snow leopards, but the essence of what nature conservations mean for a society marching mindlessly in the pursuit of ‘development’. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE_l098CFIc" target="_blank">Snow Leopard Sisters</a> 90 min Cinematography: Sonam Choekyi Lama, Andrew Lynch Producers: Joanna Natasegara, Ian Davies, Tshiring Lhamu Lama, Torquil Jones Directed by Ben Ayers, Andrew Lynch and Sonam Choekyi Lama

Kunda Dixit

Sisterhood of the snow leopard protectors

The Kangchenjunga Trek in far-eastern Nepal is a remote and less-crowded adventure that offers raw wilderness, diverse cultures, and breathtaking terrain below the world’s third highest mountain. Kangchenjunga (8,586m) grabbed the world’s attention before Mt Everest ever did because its imposing rampart dominated the northern horizon from Darjeeling, the summer refuge for the British in India. The Kangchenjunga massif is more a mountain range rather than a peak, its high ridge stretching 25km from Nepal to Sikkim.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_1f51f10becbb6bd01248f5845c6055479201365b1357fbbc6479b6724ea2185c" data-rendition-name="original" width="938" height="726" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga trail map"></figure>  Sikkim considers the mountain sacred, and has banned mountaineering expeditions. But the various prominences of Kangchenjunga are increasingly popular for climbers via the north face in Nepal. For non-mountaineers, even the Kangchenjunga trek can be arduous, especially in winter. It is one of the last pure wilderness areas in Nepal, traversing sparsely populated valleys that are rich in biodiversity because of the high annual rainfall. Even when Nepal was a forbidden land, among the first foreign visitors was British botanist J D Hooker who explored the Nepal side of Kangchenjunga in 1850 to collect plant samples. The peak was first climbed in 1955, two years after the first ascent of Mt Everest.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251215071228_7dd4ddc943554012654df0a2f5065ed364b8349c31888ac8cbe175b4540d1dfd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025121509128_a857e5e9cfc7fea2f5f0b060b8f6e9f6582abc1ac1fd1a60abad90a9d55adbff" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The establishment of Kangchenjunga Conservation Area in September 2006 was accompanied by tragedy when 24 people, including Nepal’s nature preservation pioneers were killed in a helicopter crash. The Conservation Area is now the only one managed completely by the local indigenous people. It has 70 varieties of orchids, 30 rhododendron types, and 15 out of 28 endemic plants of Nepal. Kangchenjunga still gets very few of the 200,000 foreign trekkers who visit Nepal every year, but improved road access in recent years is making it more popular. Trekkers have a choice of exploring the North Base Camp (Pangpema) or the South Base Camp (Yalung Glacier), or combine both for the full Kangchenjunga Circuit (map). This trek is considered strenuous, with long walking days, high altitude, and tea house accommodation that is much more basic than the Everest or Annapurna regions. Trekkers have to be fit and with prior hiking experience. Most teams take tents and camp, and carry most of their food.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025121509128_895ccc1d918f88c255dbeccea19c990bcaa792f384750559cb7257b99f177be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  FULL CIRCUIT Because the region is restricted, trekkers must obtain a permit and be accompanied by a licensed guide. A full circuit can take three weeks, while doing only the North or South Base Camps will take two weeks, including flying from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur and jeep to Taplejung or a rough trail to Hellok. The lower forested stretches are teeming with wildlife, and this is red panda and snow leopard country. The streams and ponds have amphibians and reptiles, some of which have not yet even been classified. The route also passes the homelands of the Limbu, Rai and Tibetan communities with the local culture and architecture more intact than in most other mountain areas of Nepal.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025121509128_90c129a639376621ece0aa067a601573f8b06d934c089a0fa929a7ce9c12018b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="597" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>   <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025121509128_f51e595e5a18d573365cc611dbf1a49cfb19b2b8ee40164ed500179e2a2b04f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="720" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Kangchenjunga in winter NT"></figure>  The best seasons to trek are spring (March–May) and autumn (September–November). There are fewer trekkers and climbers in winter, and many of the birds and wildlife have migrated down to warmer climes. Despite its beauty, trekkers should be prepared for challenges like long distances between villages, unpredictable weather, and limited emergency rescue options due to the remoteness of the area — all even more challenging in winter. Norbu Lama is an international hiking guide with www.dolpocaravantreks.com and just returned after leading a trek to Kangchenjunga Base Camps.

Kangchenjunga in winter

Ancient heritage meets dern distillery craft as the US-based The Nepali Spirit Company this month makes its global debut with Kathmandu Ayla. Inspired by Nepal’s ancient rice whiskey tradition, the product is the first of four handcrafted spirits that brings Kathmandu Valley’s 1,000-year-old ayla tradition to the world stage. “The first four products combine history, culture, and tradition and it has taken eight years to get to this launch point,” says CEO of The Nepal Spirit Company Kashish Das Shrestha, who is also publishing a book on the history of alcohol in Nepali culture. The other three ayla products are Masala Whiskey aged in Brazilian Amburana casks and spiced with black cardamom from Nepal, Annapurna Ayla, and Haku Chaku Himalayan Espresso Liqueur made with organic Nepali coffee, and chaku (dark molasses).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251216141244_ab74945dc60ce5ff83fe7a88596fc032c18705e7cda9dc62df21694d3ad83b85" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  “I started visiting international whiskey auctions six years ago and after reading about distilling, my passion for spirits grew, and I felt the urge to tell the story of Nepal’s heritage spirits to the world,” explains Shrestha. Once poured in Nepal’s royal courts, ayla is a clear rice whiskey that is a millennia-old living heritage of Kathmandu used in rituals from birth to death and traditional life milestones of its inhabitants. Ayla is distilled to capture the classic aromas and flavors, with a soft sweet after taste. It can be enjoyed neat, sipped through meals, or enjoyed as shots. With more than 15% of Nepal’s population living and working abroad, there is a cultural demand for ayla in the diaspora from Asan to Amstredam to Australia.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251216121236_0db0ec396832736fef60b636d7012a917be65471408c81383a40613f928f9e78" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1270" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251216141236_a84ede74c67a61e75af2f0cc1c985b4d04ff2292c6bd0bd0b841f4d2c7b593aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> </figure>  &nbsp;“We also believe ayla is a wonderful way to tell Nepal’s story to the world,” says Lilu KC Shrestha, Chief Operating Officer of the company. “We intend to use our platform to promote Nepal in any way we can, and also find ways to give back to the country. It was high time a world-class Nepali spirits brand entered the global market, and we are proud to take the lead.” Aside from the ayla itself, the bottle and packaging was conceived by New York-based designer Sahara Shrestha to reflect a complete Nepaliness. “Each bottle and box is a love letter to Nepal, and every detail is an expression of respect and appreciation of Nepali heritage and our desire to share it with the world,” says Kashish Das Shrestha. “And ayla itself is a sacred part of our culture, so we wanted to make sure the bottle reflects this reverence.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251216141244_d2746204c64802ff81453d7a8749f516bf3c62538fe3c98400a9b3978c03b273" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1475" loading="lazy" alt="The American Ayla NT"> <figcaption>Aylarita</figcaption> </figure>  The bottom of each bottle has an embossed Mandala representing the universe and its interconnectedness. A glass molding of Himalayan peaks Chomolungma and Nuptse signifies the earth and heaven. The bottle cap is a black and gold rendering of the metal plates that hang from Kathmandu’s temples. The logo of The Nepali Spirit Company is also inspired by the unti, a traditional vessel used to pour ayla. While its top is typically adorned with a peacock, the company’s design replaces it with rice stalks. This motif is also on the label of Annapurna Whiskey named in honour of both the mountain and the goddess, the giver of grain. For a new take, ayla can be paired with a lime wedge lathered in honey, cumin, and salt, or on the glass rim. It can also be mixed into cocktails to make Aylarita, Aylatini, or Aylapolitan. <a href="http://www.thenepalispirit.com/" target="_blank">www.thenepalispirit.com</a>, @TheNepaliSpirit

The American Ayla

Amber Tamang leads his group of trekkers through Lumsa village, past traditional houses with sturdy stone walls and hemlock tile roofs. He stops on the trail to point out his childhood home.&nbsp; He is taking the team to Pikey Peak (4,065 m), the ideal lookout from where on clear days eight eight-thousander peaks from Annapurna to Kangchenjunga, including Everest, are visible. Tamang, founder of the Three Jewels Adventures agency, takes his clients to lesser-known trails as part of his Lower Everest trekking route, on the way up to Pikey.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251211111236_baf0c06386d4fee07a2105020459033e959e30c269e6ece7338f4b28c0a44ba8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251211111236_baf0c06386d4fee07a2105020459033e959e30c269e6ece7338f4b28c0a44ba8" data-rendition-name="original" width="815" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey Peak Lumsa Trail"> </figure>  Trekkers usually do not take the Lumsa route because the quaint villages do not present as much excitement as the scenic panorama of mountains.&nbsp; But hiking through the bucolic countryside provides insight into the community’s deep Lamaist faith reflected in the chorten, mani walls, sacred inscriptions on stones, prayer flags on houses, the festivals and in the way the villagers interact with one another.&nbsp; “I wish more people would soak in the villages and their culture on their trek, rather than just wanting mountain views,” says Tamang.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091212_862b5098bec366ac32bde26b95a126889a5a1cf9b20eb8c7f09c1025fe293d72.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251214091212_862b5098bec366ac32bde26b95a126889a5a1cf9b20eb8c7f09c1025fe293d72" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="680" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091212_321cea9eab93e109efc09f45d1de9086b4626f84f77a9b2e4ae52b9fd4777be5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251214091212_321cea9eab93e109efc09f45d1de9086b4626f84f77a9b2e4ae52b9fd4777be5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  Jangbu Sherpa owns the Lama Hotel in Lumsa, one of just two accommodations in the village. There is no signage along the trail advertising his business, and guests are still few and far between. So in the evenings, he calls his neighbours over to his lodge for some beer, conversation, and dancing. And on special occasions, a group welcomes guests with a traditional Syabru dance.&nbsp; “I’m working on expanding this little lodge,” he says with a smile. “Lumsa could become a buzzing stop on the trekking route.” Jangbu’s son Nima is a porter-guide, and is preparing to take a group of trekkers to Pikey Peak and the Thupten Chholing Monastery above Junbesi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  There is a downhill bicycle route from Pikey, and lucky trekkers might even spot red pandas on the forest canopy. “I saw a red panda with my own eyes once,” interjects Pemba Tamang, a veteran guide, from across the room. He begins listing other wildlife he has encountered enroute to Pikey — danphe pheasants, their wings resplendent in the sun, ghoral blue sheep jumping nimbly on rock cliffs, a lumbering black bear, and once, memorably, a leopard.&nbsp; Amber Tamang, Nima Sherpa, and Pemba Sherpa are among the men in Lumsa who are most often away from home, leading trekking and mountaineering expeditions. Some from the village have summited Everest multiple times. To get to Pikey Peak, drive up the BP highway to Dhap, with Numbur and Karyolung towering up the valley to the north.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251214091216_2fea6bc873eed2de1ddf4d129a771bcefcb0e67c3526838b718b7f409b01c4d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Pikey trek via Lumsa in winter NT 1"> </figure>  Up in Pikey Base Camp at 3,700m is the Tunga Baje Lodge, now operated by his son Pasang Lhamu Sherpa. If they are lucky, guests will catch baje in a performance, singing and strumming his tunga.&nbsp; The trek can be made a circuit— hikers do not have to come down the same way they went up. Winter is not the best time for a Pikey hike, but the views of the mountains, especially after snowfall, are dazzling. It is best to go in early spring when forests are ablaze with rhododendron. The region is home to 32 different types of the flower.&nbsp; Says Pasang Lhamu: “Tourism is picking up, but it is tough to keep things running. I hope for stability &nbsp;so we can invest in the lodge.”&nbsp;

Going offtrek in Solu

When Winston Churchill addressed the Canadian Parliament in December 1941, he recalled that generals of Nazi-occupied France had said that England would “have her neck wrung like a chicken”. Churchill went on to quip: “Some chicken.” As the laughter and applause subsided, he added: “Some neck.” (Even longer laughter and applause) We do not know who first started calling the narrow corridor that joins India to its northeastern states a 'Chicken’s Neck', but there also was the hint of a Churcillian connotation. Akhilesh Upadhayay in his new book In the Margins of the Empires: A History of the Chicken’s Neck, uses this strip as an entry point to explore a region adjoining Nepal, Bhutan, China, Sikkim, Darjeeling, India’s northeast and the tectonics that shaped its geo-strategic terrain.&nbsp; Upadhyay’s Chicken Neck is an organic whole, connected through centuries by transboundary traders, travellers, monks, spies, missionaries, mountaineers, and more. And as infrastructure and connectivity improves, smaller countries like Nepal and Bhutan (and earlier Sikkim) are caught up in the region’s rivalries. The tri-junction of the Chicken’s Neck is a potential flashpoint that has obsessed India’s military strategists ever since Partition in 1947 and the formation of East Pakistan, and the Chinese annexation of Tibet. India found itself squeezed between Chumbi Valley in China to the north and Pakistan to the south. So, when Sikkim started acting too independent for its own good 50 years ago, India engineered its annexation and turned it into its 22nd state. The 1962 Sino-Indian war elevated its strategic importance even more. Alarm bells ring in New Delhi each time there is trouble around the Chicken’s Neck: the Naxalite uprising had to be swiftly crushed, the Indian military moved in to liberate Bangladesh, Gorkhaland and ULFA activities were dangerously nearby, Bhutan had to be appeased. Every once in a while things would flare up between India and China, as in the 2017 Doklam standoff.&nbsp; And last year’s regime change in Bangladesh has rattled New Delhi enough to deploy its Rafael fighters and BrahMos cruise missiles in the Chicken’s Neck. It is now the most densely militarised strip of real estate in this part of the world. &nbsp; As a journalist and former editor of Kathmandu Post, Upadhyay also peers at the Chicken’s Neck through Nepal’s perspective. After all, Jhapa (where the author is originally from) sits right there astride India’s strategic lifeline.&nbsp; Geopolitics is at the front and centre of the book that takes readers back to the time Nepal was a closed Himalayan kingdom.&nbsp; Nepal may be a yam between two boulders, but it may just as well be a thicker Chicken’s Neck as far as New Delhi and Beijing are concerned. Nepal’s rulers have always had to walk the tightrope between China and India. Khampa guerrillas, covertly helped by American and Indian intelligence, raided Chinese military convoys from bases in Nepal, and King Mahendra had to do some intricate diplomatic footwork. India is often described as Nepal’s closest friend, but our relations with China go back as long in terms of the Lhasa trade, Bhrikuti and Arniko, religious exchanges and people-to-people relations. While Nepali researchers are wary of touching on Chinese, Indian or American sensitivities, Upadhyay’s journalistic background means he has no qualms about tackling the subject head-on, and objectively. He spent more than a year researching the book, sniffing around Siliguri, Bagdogra, Naxalbari, Darjeeling and the villages on the Jhapa side. Then he travelled to Olangchung Gola to listen to ordinary people of the Himalayan rimlands. Despite the perception about rigid frontiers between nation states, the book hints at how absurd the notion is. The Chicken’s Neck is also a wild elephant migration corridor, disturbed by the India-Bangladesh border fence, new expressway embankments, airport runways, and expanding cities. Similarly, the people on the Nepal-tibet border used to cross over to graze yaks — this expanded the gene pools of not just the yaks but also the nomadic humans who moved with the herds.&nbsp; Despite the hard borders, trade flourishes. Upadhyay marvels that a shop in Phungling in Taplejung has embroidered saris from Siliguri and fluffy jackets from China. he finds that residents in the northeastern and southeastern tips of Nepal have more in common with kin across the border in Tibet or India than with someone from Kathmandu. Nepal was once one of the biggest trade hubs in ancient times, and our products were treated as equals in Indian border cities. People too, could move freely, especially if they were and are from bordering Tarai cities.&nbsp; Nepal’s rich history and culture was shaped by the proximity to neighbours, and despite borders it is still cemented by marriages and trade — especially in the Nepali-speaking lands to the east. Its geographical positioning makes Nepal not landlocked but land-linked, adjacent to the largest emerging economies of the world. Nepal needs to deploy its soft power with effective diplomacy to take advantage of these two empires, and not be choked by their rivalry. The book was going to press when the GenZ protests ignited in September, but Upadhyay nevertheless managed to insert the current political transition into the pages with deft editing. &nbsp;The final section of the book examines at least three possible scenarios that may unfold as South Asia continues to be shaped by great power rivalries and imperial contests that have weakened the unilateral influence of the west.&nbsp; Akhilesh Upadhyay extrapolates from the Chicken’s Neck, zooming out for a wider perspective on the Subcontinent. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025121912124_0ae772e7736a65f53a99599b5724ca133a64fdea0e61c7170ea81f9dd95c7af0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025121912124_0ae772e7736a65f53a99599b5724ca133a64fdea0e61c7170ea81f9dd95c7af0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="In the Margins of Empires: A History of the Chicken’s Neck NT"> </figure>

women-in-conservation

Saving our springs

Sisterhood of the snow leopard protectors

Kangchenjunga in winter

The American Ayla

Going offtrek in Solu

Some chicken, some neck