Growing up in Gulmi district, I was obsessed with football. Our village was perched on top of a staircase of terraced fields, none of them large enough for a football field. We played improvised, barefoot games in vacant rice paddies every day after school, running after a deflated volleyball while modelling ourselves after our favourite international stars. Mine, of course, was the Brazilian legend, Ronaldo. In 2002, I had &nbsp;watched the 2002 World Cup on a tiny colour television at home. The event gripped the country, and brought almost everything to a standstill. Growing up, the pressures of life in an impoverished country began to set in. Many joined the workforce, or went to India. By a stroke of luck, my father, a high school teacher in the village, won a diversity visa lottery to the United States. My family left Nepal when I was 13. When I was in medical college in Texas, most of my childhood friends back home were looking for jobs as menial labourers abroad. Nepal’s economy had stagnated during and after the decade-long insurgency, endemic corruption and political failure. Jobs were hard to find. The Persian Gulf was hiring, but the work required long hours in the heat for a few hundred dollars a month to send home. Others took less well-paying jobs in India, working as domestic help or in agriculture. One of them was my uncle, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pitambar.bhattarai.73/photos_of" target="_blank">Pitamber Bhattarai</a>, whom I met after years in 2010 while on a study trip to Delhi. He was working in a restaurant, and travelled hours to find me. We met in a sweet shop because he wanted me to try the famous Delhi confectionery. We spent hours reminiscing about my late mother, his older sister, whom we both missed dearly. I was seven years old when we had lost her to an unknown illness. The hope of preventing such tragedy from befalling others is what later drove me to become a doctor. For those few hours with my मामा in the sweet shop my mother was alive again, and I felt profoundly moved. As we parted, my uncle told me about his plans to take a better-paying job in Qatar. He was the sole provider for his mother, wife and three young children back home. Two years later, I learned that my uncle had died while working in Qatar, and his body was being repatriated to Nepal for the final rites. I was shaken to the core. It felt like I had lost my mother all over again. His death made no sense to me. He was young and healthy, full of life. The death certificate provided by his employer in Qatar only listed ‘cardiac arrest’ as the cause. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230112100128/63bfd2aa9c7e80680e0d3030jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2247" height="3399">The author's uncle Pitamber Bhattarai</div> I was just starting my medical studies, and I knew that cardiac arrest is not a cause of death but rather the end itself. Despite our family’s efforts to find answers, there were none. I started reading up on the conditions of migrant workers in<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/sep/25/revealed-qatars-world-cup-slaves" target="_blank"> The Guardian</a> and other papers. It led me to wonder if my uncle’s death was also due to working conditions. <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/11/14/qatar-rights-abuses-stain-fifa-world-cup" target="_blank">Human Rights Watch</a> and <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde22/5388/2022/en/" target="_blank">Amnesty International</a> released reports at that time detailing some of the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/labour-rights-legacy-of-the-fifa-world-cup/" target="_blank">atrocities migrant workers face,</a> including the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-welcomes-qatar-labour-reform/" target="_blank">kafala system</a> that permitted employers to seize workers’ passports, effectively making them bonded labourers. I also learnt that on average one coffin was returned to Nepal with the remains of somebody’s family member every single day from Qatar. It was not just Nepalis, workers from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and numerous African countries faced the same fate. As a physician, I travel to Nepal frequently to conduct global health work in emergency care. On a recent flight from Kathmandu to Qatar, I sat next to a 27-year-old man from a remote village in eastern Nepal. Nervous and excited, he told me how, through connections from relatives working in Qatar, he found an agent in Nepal who arranged a two-year contract to work for a company called Ipas. They had promised to pay him $275 a month with a $82 food stipend. To arrange the job, he had already paid an agent in Nepal $1,500 -- more than four months’ salary. His first job would be as a paint scraper, and he was promised 8-hour-day shifts with a day off every week. His story was not unique. The flight, one of four from Kathmandu to Doha every day, was full of men like him. Many Nepalis <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/payupfifa-campaign-launched/" target="_blank">died constructing infrastructure</a> for the FIFA World Cup, but accurate statistics are impossible to find. Some estimates put the number at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pay-qatars-world-cup-workers-2/" target="_blank">more than 6,500</a>. Every one of them leaves behind a bereaved, bereft and already destitute family, now with fewer options for survival than before. Meanwhile, FIFA is estimated to earn nearly $6 billion from this year’s World Cup. World Cup stadiums built in Brazil, Beijing and South Africa had raised similar concerns. The Qatar experience has affected my family personally, but the issue of FIFA turning its back on human rights violations is not new. The football governing body must be held accountable. When the world learnt in 2010 that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/" target="_blank">Qatar had won the FIFA </a>hosting bid, questions were raised about how a country with only three stadiums would host the globe’s biggest sporting event. But Qatar had a plan. That plan included the blood, sweat and the lives of migrant workers. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/fifa-a-chance-to-improve-welfare-of-nepali-workers-in-qatar/" target="_blank">Desperate workers</a> plucked from South Asia and Africa were flown in, their passports taken, and they were put to work. So what if a few died? There would always be other desperate people trying to provide for their families. In fact, young men have headed out to work in Qatar <a href="https://time.com/magazine/south-america/6234377/november-21st-2022-vol-200-no-19-europe-middle-east-africa-south-america/" target="_blank">even after their own families have received dead bodies </a>of their loved ones, or their uncles or fathers were sent back due to ill health caused by the heat and poor on-site conditions. Nepalis are quick to blame their own government also for this situation. The country’s economic instability has affected millions for decades. Successive governments in Nepal must be held accountable for allowing hundreds of thousands of workers to be exploited in these overseas worksites under false pretenses, and for not advocating more for the rights of its citizens abroad. But employers in Qatar and FIFA must also be held to account, especially for the indignities and injustices wrought upon these workers after they landed in Qatar, and began toiling on infrastructure for the World Cup. I am not watching the World Cup this year because cheering on games being played in buildings that so many of my people died constructing feels a bit like I have cheated them. And because memories of my uncle do not allow me to. My personal boycott will not mean much, but I hope my uncle’s story will provide perspective about the individual human tragedies involved. Was there really a need in this day and age for the World Cup to rely on egregiously unsafe bonded labour? By placing profit over justice and decency, FIFA has undermined the positive values that give football its global appeal. I love football. I want Messi to win. Football is a religion in Nepal. This year, however, the joy I once found in the beautiful game is haunted by the ghosts of workers. Ramu Kharel is an Assistant Professor at Brown University in the United States and an emergency medicine specialist. He is the founder of &nbsp;Health Advance Programs to Serve All, &nbsp;<a href="http://hapsaglobe.org/" target="_blank">HAPSA Nepal</a>.&nbsp; TikTok <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@namastedoctor" target="_blank">@namastedoctor</a>, Instagram @<a href="https://www.instagram.com/namastedoc/?hl=en" target="_blank">namastedoc</a>, Twitter <a href="http://www.twitter.com/erdockharel" target="_blank">@erdockharel</a>.&nbsp; This is a <a href="https://southasiapeace.com/category/sapan-news-network/?fbclid=IwAR2Yi7NjhRViUUtnjcoHR8VK0MzsxuoJoNXOYx9hV1aJYmY4IklNAAEq-8E" target="_blank">Sapan News</a> syndicated piece.

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My uncle died in Qatar

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022120710124/639057989c7e80680e0ce164jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="667" height="1000"/><figcaption>Mural in Lalitpur highlights the human cost of FIFA World Cup infrastructure building.</figcaption></figure>On 18 December 2022, the Men’s World Cup football final will be held at Qatar’s Lusail Stadium. It will mark the end of a journey that started in December 2010 when Qatar was awarded the tournament hosting rights.18 December is also International Migrants Day, a day set aside to honour migrant workers for their contributions and sacrifice. It is also Qatar’s National Day.Over the past 12 years, millions of migrant workers have toiled to make the 2022 World Cup possible, building key infrastructure, including the stadiums in Qatar. However, these workers have always been at the margins, and the authorities have been less than responsive to their abusive work conditions.Qatar’s Labour Minister recently <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">rejected</a> proposals for a remedy fund for abuses faced by migrant workers, including uncompensated deaths, further highlighting the lack of recognition for the people who perform the vast majority of the country’s labour. FIFA, football’s governing body, has not made a decision.But South Asian governments, too, share responsibility for these abuses. They wasted many opportunities to collectively push for reforms to address shared concerns, including numerous unexplained, uninvestigated and uncompensated deaths, high recruitment fees, and wage abuses.The preparations for the tournament owe a lot to South Asia. It is not just that the footballs are made in <a href="https://dailytimes.com.pk/954864/sialkot-made-footballs-to-be-used-in-fifa-world-cup-2022/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dailytimes.com.pk/954864/sialkot-made-footballs-to-be-used-in-fifa-world-cup-2022/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1NzGeZj8KixiILH3AFfWMZ">Sialkot, Pakistan</a>. Every state-of-the-art stadium in Qatar, and all of the <a href="https://dohanews.co/why-is-qatars-fifa-world-cup-the-most-expensive-in-history/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://dohanews.co/why-is-qatars-fifa-world-cup-the-most-expensive-in-history/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw36QhvzvoqCzGDLJL6mPe2s">US$220 billion</a> in surrounding infrastructure, is largely built by South Asians. Migrant workers from the region are also employed in stadiums, hotels, malls, and airports, providing key services. The remittances these workers send to their families are critical to make ends meet—often the only source of income for many families.FIFA, football’s global governing body, has been a complacent enabler of abuses, while Qatar, the host country, has faced well-deserved criticism for the high human cost of the Road to 2022. FIFA did not carry out human rights due diligence over the abusive kafala labour sponsorship system in Qatar, or the prohibitions in Qatar that keep workers from forming unions or striking.After years of pressure over the conditions, the Qatari government introduced reforms that partially addressed key abuses. The government set up a Workers’ Support and Insurance Fund that became operational in 2020 to ensure that workers are paid even when companies fail to do so. Over $320 million has been disbursed as of September 2022 — an indication of the wide-scale nature of the problem.Such initiatives have had immediate impact on families far away. One South Asian worker <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/08/12/fifa/qatar-commit-compensate-abused-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/08/12/fifa/qatar-commit-compensate-abused-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3rObbFC7ovQisdJ9ep2geO">told</a> Human Rights Watch in July that he waited months for the system to process his request and send his money, even contemplating suicide, knowing his family had to take loans for his children’s education and parents’ health bills.Furthermore, only a small fraction of workers secured jobs without paying illegal recruitment fees.  One lucky worker <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/10/20/qatar/fifa-reimburse-migrant-workers-recruitment-fees" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/10/20/qatar/fifa-reimburse-migrant-workers-recruitment-fees&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2Lo8cYNRViKeJkCdZGqNyn">said,</a> “If I had not come for free and had paid recruitment fees as is common for Indians, my first paycheck would be going to the local money lender back home, and not to my mother.”But most of the migrant workers ‘paid to build’ the multibillion infrastructure project in the scorching heat. A 2020 <a href="https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---ro-bangkok/---ilo-dhaka/documents/publication/wcms_766198.pdf" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.ilo.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/---asia/---ro-bangkok/---ilo-dhaka/documents/publication/wcms_766198.pdf&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0Brh7VArawHHhAGhRxsxTK">survey</a>found that the  average recruitment costs for Bangladeshis going to work in Qatar was around $3,863, equivalent to 18 months of  earnings in Qatar. A significant portion of the remittances are simply spent to pay off loans taken to get these jobs.Companies affiliated with Qatar’s Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy, the body responsible for planning and delivering World Cup infrastructure, have committed to reimburse over $28 million in recruitment fees to 48,814 workers in Qatar. While a positive initiative, its impact is inadequate considering that it does not cover most migrant workers who helped build and service the necessary infrastructure for the World Cup. At any given time, there are over 2.2 million temporary migrant workers in the country.Qatar deserves credit for attempting reforms, but the benefits have been limited due to their late introduction, narrow scope, or poor enforcement. This is why Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and other organisations have called on FIFA and Qatari authorities to remedy past and ongoing abuses during World Cup preparations, including deaths, injuries and wage theft.Despite growing pressure from sponsors, football associations, former players and fans, FIFA is dragging its feet while the Qatari Labour Minister rejected the call last week, labelling it “a publicity stunt.”Qatar and FIFA still have a chance to shape the legacy of the World Cup. They have the resources and responsibility to remedy these abuses.The labour minister <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">said</a> that “every death is a tragedy”. But the greatest tragedy is that the authorities failed to properly investigate the causes of many worker deaths, deeming them ‘natural’, ‘unexplained’, or ‘cardiac arrests’, leaving their families without compensation because these causes are not considered work-related. Without adequate investigation, deaths caused by working conditions such as heat stress have gone uncompensated.FIFA has provided a total of $260 million of what it calls ‘legacy funds’ for humanitarian causes to host countries for three previous tournaments: in South Africa (2010), Brazil (2014) and Russia (2018). Qatar should be no different. It needs to set up a remedy fund for abused workers and the families of those who died unless it wants its legacy for the 2022 World Cup to be about worker abuse.There is one last opportunity for South Asian governments to back the call for a remedy and to work to ensure stronger protections for their workers. In particular, they are well placed to respond to <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">Qatari authorities</a> who claimed there is no data to establish these funds, with the Qatar Labour Minister <a href="https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://amp.france24.com/en/live-news/20221102-qatar-rejects-compensation-fund-for-world-cup-migrant-workers&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2RSS1_VHsjjDGpSpqbAe8P">asking</a>: “Where are the victims, do you have names of the victims, how can you get these numbers?"South Asian governments can be an important resource to connect FIFA and Qatari authorities with families of migrant workers. This requires a detailed review of the existing databases and welfare systems. The Qatar government and origin country governments also have <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/07/11/families-bring-home-migrant-worker-remains-qatar" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/07/11/families-bring-home-migrant-worker-remains-qatar&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1667731753799000&amp;usg=AOvVaw119geBHsZHFpkVL5gX3A6_">data</a> of worker deaths because of the bureaucracy that families have to navigate to repatriate deceased loved ones. Origin country governments can also seek support from local civil society groups and media to locate families of deceased workers and other victims, putting out calls for information on national media outlets and government websites.The problem of establishing a compensation fund for migrant workers and their families has never been about data, —which is available, but about political will.Only if there is remedy will this tumultuous, 12-year journey end on a more humane note on 18 December 18, the day of the final of the 2022 World Cup, and more important, the International Migrants Day and Qatar’s National Day.Meenakshi Ganguly is the South Asia director at Human Rights Watch and Mohna Ansari is former member of Nepal’s National Human Rights Commission.

Labour rights legacy of the FIFA World Cup

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131144/637238c19c7e80680e0c73a2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1366" height="614"/>With two-month to go for the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar, human rights groups have urged FIFA’s sponsors to compensate workers involved in building stadiums and other infrastructure.From 20 November, football fans across the globe will be glued to their tv screens but few viewers will be aware of the human cost to migrant workers mainly from South Asia.The eight stadiums where the games will be held are <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/">built with the blood, sweat and tears of tens of thousands of migrant workers</a>, including from Nepal. Many migrants have suffered injuries or lost lives to unexplained causes, and many more have been victims of wage theft and illegal recruitment fees.On 20 September, Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and FairSquare called on all of FIFA’s corporate <a href="https://www.fifa.com/about-fifa/commercial/partners">partners and sponsors</a> of the World Cup to press the football association and the <a href="https://www.hrw.org/middle-east/north-africa/qatar">Qatari</a> government to compensate migrant workers and their families who suffered while preparing for the tournament.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/payupfifa-campaign-launched/">#PayUpFIFA campaign launched</a>, Nepali TimesThis call, uniting players, fans, workers and activists, comes as a new global opinion poll shows that 66% of those surveyed, and 72% of those likely to watch at least one World Cup match, said that corporate partners and sponsors should publicly call on FIFA to compensate workers.The poll was commissioned by Amnesty International, carried out by YouGov, and surveyed 17,477 adults in 15 countries including Argentina, Germany, Kenya, Mexico, Morocco, UK and the USA.Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International and FairSquare wrote to FIFA's 14 corporate partners and World Cup Sponsors in July, urging them to call on the football body to compensate workers whose wages were stolen, who were injured, and to families of those who died building stadiums and hotels, roads and the metro rail necessary for the world’s largest sporting event.Four partners -- ABInBev/Budweiser, Adidas, Coca-Cola and McDonald’s -- have stated their support for financial compensation and to explore how best to build upon the progress being made in Qatar to further expand access to effective remedies for migrant workers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/the-workers-football/">The workers’ football</a>, Upasana KhadkaThe other ten, including Visa, Hyundai-Kia and Qatar Airways, have offered no public support and have not responded to written requests to discuss tournament-related abuses, despite their policies to respect human rights and environmental, social, and governance standards in their operations and business relationships, says the statement.“Brands buy rights to sponsor the World Cup because they want to be associated with joy, fair competition and spectacular human achievement on the playing field — not rampant wage theft and the deaths of workers who made the World Cup possible,” says <a href="https://www.hrw.org/about/people/minky-worden">Minky Worden</a>, director of global initiatives at Human Rights Watch (HRW).But with only two months until the tournament, she adds sponsors should use their considerable leverage to press FIFA and Qatari authorities to fulfill their human rights responsibilities. FIFA has not yet committed to remedy abuses maintaining that it is still considering the proposal.“It is clear what the public and their customers want the corporate sponsors to do," says Stephen Cockburn, head of economic and social justice at Amnesty International. "Stand up for workers’ rights in Qatar and demand compensation for every worker that has suffered to make this tournament happen.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/world-cup-stadium-workers-in-qatar-unpaid/">World Cup stadium workers in Qatar unpaid</a>, Nepali TimesA global campaign called #PayUpFIFA has also been launched by HRW, calling on the international football governing body FIFA to provide adequate remedy and to avoid the legacy of what they call a ‘World Cup of Shame’.International Labour Organisation estimates 50 foreign labourers have died and more than 500 others seriously injured in Qatar in 2021. But many more thousands have also lost their lives during construction of other infrastructure for the World Cup. In fact, at Kathmandu airport the coffins of migrants arrive on flights from Doha, and the same planes take off with more workers.In recent years, Qatar has introduced a series of important <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2021/08/02/migrant-workers-and-qatar-world-cup">reforms</a> following a <a href="https://www.ilo.org/gb/GBSessions/previous-sessions/GB326/WCMS_459148/lang--en/index.htm">forced labour complaint</a> at the International Labour Organisation. These include lifting the abusive exit permit requirement for most workers, allowing migrant workers to change jobs before the end of their contracts without first obtaining their employer’s consent, and a new law establishing a non-discriminatory basic minimum wage for all workers.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/fifa-a-chance-to-improve-welfare-of-nepali-workers-in-qatar/">FIFA a chance to improve welfare of Nepali workers in Qatar</a>, Upasana KhadkaNonetheless, human rights experts note, serious labour exploitation persist and past abuses have not been adequately remedied. Significant implementation and enforcement gaps remain. For example, workers who have already left Qatar cannot access the <a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde22/0793/2019/en/">labour committees</a> or a fund established to pay them when their employers fail to do so.In awarding the 2022 World Cup without imposing any conditions to avoid foreseeable labour rights abuses and subsequently failing to take timely and effective preventive measures, FIFA is accused of contributing to the widespread abuse of migrant workers on World Cup-related projects that followed.Compensation can have far-reaching benefits to migrant workers and their families. To this effect, rights groups are calling on FIFA and Qatar to reserve an amount at least equivalent to the US$440 million prize money provided to teams participating in the tournament that can be invested to compensate workers and to improve their protections.“There is nothing Qatar nor FIFA could ever do to make up for the loss of a loved one,” says Nick McGeehan, a founding director of FairSquare, which investigates migrant labour abuses. “But financial compensation to struggling families for migrant worker deaths could provide some financial respite and potentially reduce lasting harm.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/human-rights-referees-blow-whistle-on-world-cup-fouls/">Rights referees blow whistle on World Cup fouls</a>, Kunda Dixit

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“Pay Qatar's World Cup workers”

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f01f9c7e80680e0359bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"/><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0229c7e80680e0359bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="360">TEAM OF WORKERS: Padam (standing, second player from right) in the documentary The Workers Cup, and Nepalis working on facilities for the 2022 championships in Qatar avidly watch a World Cup game being played in Russia last week.In a world where populist anti-immigrant narratives dominate, the diverse composition of football teams in the World Cup in Russia did not go unnoticed. Players of foreign origin including former refugees and children or grandchildren of immigrants, especially in the winning French team, stole the show.In Doha, Nepali workers busy building the infrastructure for the next World Cup found escape from their hard work watching the games in the evenings. The next championship in the winter of 2022 presents opportunities and challenges for Qatar, which is still in the throes of a Saudi-Emirates blockade, as well as for Nepal which is a major supplier of workers to the country.Qatar is expected to further ramp up hiring as it races to complete all its eight stadiums and other facilities. This is going to translate into jobs for hundreds of thousands of workers. On the other hand, given the nature of work, it raises questions about migrant rights: a topic the Qataris are sensitive about.After media highlighted human rights abuse including migrant deaths in FIFA construction sites, there have been reforms. Implementation remains murky, but they include minimum wage guarantees, lax exit visa requirements, allowing workers to keep their passports, and timely payment of wages through bank accounts under the Wage Protection System.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368f0259c7e80680e0359bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="948">The International Labour Organisation (ILO) recently opened an office in Doha and there is talk of Qatar setting up one stop centres in several migrant-sending countries including Nepal, rightly recognising that many problems faced by migrants start at home. Under this scheme, recruitment procedures like medical check-up, biometric fingerprinting, and contract signing will be completed prior to departure."There have been improvements: stricter audits and random checks by welfare officers at workplaces are ongoing with consequences for non-compliance of labour standards," admits one Nepali worker in Doha.Others, however, are less optimistic. A Nepali social worker who helps distressed and stranded Nepalis, says: “Monitoring and implementation is focused on employers working at high profile worksites, particularly the stadiums, but not in others. These are reforms made without workers in mind."A football tournament for migrants, captured in a well-made documentary <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5teswV_7S8" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Worker's Cup</a>, has been critised as a publicity stunt to appease outsiders. "It is not about the worker. It was never about the worker," one migrant labourer says in the documentary.However, the international spotlight surrounding the 2022 World Cup presents opportunities for worker welfare to get global attention so they can be redressed. There is precedent. Reports of child labour in Sialkot of Pakistan, the supplier of balls used in the World Cup, spurred big brands like Adidas and Nike as well as FIFA to take action resulting in the elimination of the practice.There has been similar reform after media publicity about worker mistreatment in the coffee, chocolate, garments, and handheld gadgets industries. This is not easily extended to the construction industry because Nike, Apple, Starbucks, H&amp;M have become household names, in ways that firms like AlJaber and Tekfen which hire migrant workers for construction work are not.With all eyes on Qatar, however, there is scope for migrant issues to be highlighted through non-conventional partnerships with players like the Centre for Sport and Human Rights that focus on labour rights in the sports industry. Because migration is receiving global attention, a strategic campaign that appeals to the spirit of the game these construction projects are tied to would also be useful.The Global Compact on Migration this month got countries to agree to cooperate on migration governance. It remains to be seen how these non-binding agreements impact on the day-to-day lives of migrants. The real challenge is in implementation, and how well the World Cup is used as a global platform for worker welfare.None of the issues of poor working and living conditions, high recruitment costs, and unexplained deaths of workers, are new. What is new in Qatar is their association with a mega-sporting event like the World Cup, and the power of sports diplomacy to give it wider relevance and potential for longer-term reform.Says Padam, one of the Nepali players depicted in The Worker's Cup: "We were players from Ghana, India, Nepal, Kenya while our coach was from Egypt. Most of us spoke broken English, in so many different accents it was hard to understand each other, yet we had a strong team-spirit, we bonded very well.”He adds that Nepalis have a very good reputation in Qatar’s construction sector where high-risk jobs on high scaffoldings needs deft and courage. He expects the demand for Nepalis will grow in the coming years.Padam, who also played at the Khalifa International Stadium with other migrant workers, hopes to visit Qatar in 2022 like many other Nepalis. And it won’t just be for the love of the game.

Upasana Khadka

The workers' football

“Let's have another cup of tea,” <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/ujwal-thapa-s-light-shines-on-n0tfurod">Ujwal Thapa</a> of the alternative Bibeksheel Nepali party told the young activist Pukar Bam ten years ago. The two had 12 cups of tea that day, discussing ways to get Nepal out of its political deadend. Thapa contested the Constituent Assembly election in 2013 as an independent from Kathmandu, and formed Bibeksheel Nepali to galvanise youth impatient for change, fielding candidates in the first federal election in 2017.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was a political guru who was way ahead of his time, and his protégés were among the RSP’s winning candidates in last week’s election. Pukar Bam was a core member of Bibeksheel Nepali until its dissolution, and won the Kathmandu-4 seat this time. Other former Bibeksheel members who won the election from the RSP in Kathmandu include Ranju Neupane from Kathmandu-1, Sasmit Pokharel from Kathmandu-5, and Biraj Bhakta Shrestha in Kathmandu-8. As votes were counted and the results from Kathmandu began to come in, the candidates paid fulsome tribute to Ujwal Thapa’s mentorship and in inspiring idealistic youth to become a part of an alternative political force.&nbsp; Today, as RSP members of Parliament, they are no longer an alternative, but a part of Nepal’s new mainstream politics. Thapa returned to Nepal after finishing his undergraduate computer science degree in the US at the peak of the Maoist insurgency. His foray into politics began when he traveled to Nepal’s western mountains to train communities in mediation. After the war, he started a computer design company for young entrepreneurs entering the workforce. But he became frustrated with the inability of the second Constituent Assembly to promulgate the Constitution, and the power struggle between political parties played out in the streets that led to frequent shutdowns paralysing the country.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260313120348_d18647d53a3b2927328067c35b2e3e6eecf9aefe13f23384e73a2c17211cd9cb" data-rendition-name="original" width="823" height="682" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Thapa with Pukar Bam, who was elected to Parliament last week from Kathmandu-4. Photo: PUKAR BAM / FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  PROTEST TO POLITICS Ujwal Thapa had had enough, and rallied people from across walks of life, leading peaceful, silent demonstrations proclaiming 'नेपाल खुल्ला छ' against prolonged, violent strikes. Citizens fed up with the main political parties organised to defy the shutdowns. Thapa’s activism and vision for a new Nepal drew disenchanted and previously apathetic youth into politics and to join the Bibeksheel Nepali Party in 2013.&nbsp; Thapa was the pioneer of alternative politics in Nepal, and was leading a youth force long before the GenZ became synonymous with Nepal’s September Storm. He mentored and guided social activists who are today influential youth leaders engaged in non-traditional politics. “Ujwal Thapa, with his entrepreneurial spirit, wanted to address people’s pain-points, and believed that activism was the starting point to alternative politics,” explains <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepal-loses-rare-purpose-driven-leader">Ashutosh Tiwari</a>, former member of Bibeksheel Sajha party. “He sought to build confidence, motivate, and build a community for young people, which drew a lot of people into Bibeksheel.” He adds: “ And while people might say that Bibeksheel never got big, that was never its point. Its function was to be an early talent incubator, which is what it did as evident by the result of this election.” Thapa died in 2021 of complications related to Covid-19, and Bibeksheel had two mergers with Rabindra Mishra’s Sajha Party before being permanently dissolved in 2021. But many of its idealistic members joined Rabi Lamichhane’s RSP, formed just four months before the 2022 federal election. Such was the groundswell of support for change that the RSP became the fourth-largest in Parliament. In 2017, Ranju Neupane (then Ranju Darshana) was the youngest mayoral candidate for Kathmandu at age 21, and contested the federal election in 2022. Pukar Bam himself lost the 2022 election in Kathmandu-1 as an independent.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260313120348_6302a9b534f57191d9a2cb2c31b31449873c6cc27d375344a248dd90847921dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1729" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The RSP's activist DNA"> <figcaption>Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Sashmit Pokharel also ran an unsuccessful campaign as an independent candidate in Kathmandu during the 2022 provincial election. Later, he was a member of the City Planning Commission under Balendra Shah when he was elected mayor of Kathmandu in 2022.&nbsp; Last week, the RSP swept the election with a supermajority of 182 seats in Parliament. Voters placed their trust in the party and its leaders to steer Nepal in a new direction after the youth unrest in September.&nbsp; In many ways, Nepal’s youth have decided, just as Ujwal Thapa once did, that enough is enough with corruption, malgovernance, nepotism and dynastic politics.&nbsp; In the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-man-who-shook-our-minds">documentary</a> about his life, Dimag Ghochne Manche, released earlier this year, some RSP nominees who previously worked with and were mentored by Thapa spoke of the impact he had on their lives, career, and activism. Among them is Biraj Bhakta Shrestha, former minister of Youth and Sports who is now a second time RSP parliamentarian. “I tell everybody that if it hadn’t been for Ujwal Dai, I would not have gotten into politics,” he says in the film.&nbsp; It would be unfair to attribute all the success of the hard-fought campaigns entirely to Ujwal Thapa’s protégés and former coworkers.&nbsp; But his ethos and vision for Nepal was what inspired them, and will in the coming years be reflected in national politics through the young idealists he mentored. Says Ashutosh Tiwari: “There are many Bibeksheels outside of RSP in constant and open communication with their old friends who have been elected. They will be keeping the lawmakers in check so that they do no stray too far from the values that they grew up with.”

RSP’s activist DNA

The Bell that rang in the new A daughter stands in her family's living room, frantically ringing an actual घण्टी at her father. He is a lifelong Nepali Congress (NC) voter. She tells him his party loyalty is as humiliating as a daughter eloping.&nbsp; He looks visibly defeated, and because of RSP’s landslide sweep in this election, he has no reply. She is not a party member. Nobody told her to do this.&nbsp; Multiply this actual family scene by hundreds of thousands of households across Nepal and you find the reason for the RSP tsunami. Children ringing bells at parents over dinner. Aunties shaking bells at legacy party candidates on their morning walks. Taxi drivers, lifelong UML supporters, cheerfully announcing they have switched.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026031014038_096f980a799b4f80118863174ed629680cc6c21b02e226a899ce1dc5268b4b72" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="662" loading="lazy" alt="RSP Flag prank"> </figure>  And overseas, Nepalis in Dubai and Doha, Sydney and Seattle, calling home to deliver just one instruction: “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप”।&nbsp; How did an election symbol like the Bell jump off a ballot paper and become weaponised for generational shame?&nbsp; The RSP's 2026 campaign is a case study in how a symbol becomes so participatory and instinctive, that citizens start campaigning on behalf of a party they never formally joined. It may look like a cult, but it is a phenomenon no political party in Nepal has ever pulled off. The ghost in the machine&nbsp; The 3-year-old RSP entered the 2026 race without the campaign infrastructure that legacy parties considered essential. It has no sister organisations, no vanguard student unions, no established cadre networks.&nbsp; In a country where ground reach and organisation wins elections, this looked like a fatal handicap. Established parties had spent decades building a top-down machinery: youth wings that mobilise on orders and unions within government. But it was all hollow and manufactured.&nbsp; That is why when the NC or UML posted a policy manifesto, it got barely 200 shares. When a 19-year-old posts an <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/spot-ai-generated-election-videos">AI video on TikTok </a>of Balendra Shah swinging a bell like a Kung Fu Hustle weapon, it gets 5 million views.&nbsp; The RSP’s very absence became its strategic advantage. Without a chain of command for content, every post felt peer-to-peer. Supporters built communities instead of following orders. Network effects took over: one person posts, three friends remix it, their followers adapt it for their own local context, and the message multiplies without a single directive from party headquarters. A TikTok from Kathmandu featuring Balendra Shah gets remixed by someone in Birganj who <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@bhojpuriyasuppor0/video/7596686360111484178?q=bhojpuri%20dub%20balen&amp;t=1773115199365">dubs it in Bhojpuri</a>. A supporter in Pokhara takes the same “अबकि बार बालेन सरकार” audio and films it over footage of the city’s broken road.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026031014038_56090217f5b3482fad934c4f76fc872047571b3c86331a4eda1ac19ae389c2fc" data-rendition-name="original" width="375" height="646" loading="lazy" alt="Balen Bhojpuri remix"> </figure>  A Nepali worker in Dubai films himself shaking his phone at the camera, captioning it “I can't vote but my family can”. The content stays structurally the same (bell + emotion) but the surface changes every time. The format is the constant. The context is the variable. A single post multiplies into a thousand pieces of local content without anyone coordinating it. Legacy parties spent money on reach. RSP's strategy built reach for free, because participation itself was the product. The Bell, blazer and brand&nbsp; Run the sensory test. The UML's Sun symbol is only visual. You see it on a ballot, on a flag. You cannot hear a sun. You cannot perform a &nbsp;sun. Nobody walks into a room and ‘suns’ at an opponent.&nbsp; The NC’s Tree symbol is also only seen. It communicates nothing as a verb. Nobody ‘trees’ the father across the dinner table. Ujyalo Nepal's lightbulb was the most passive symbol of all, it just sits there being always on. The Bell had rare resonance as an election symbol. It is a verb (to ring), a sound (tintinnabulation), a physical action (shaking), and a metaphor (wake-up call). घण्टी is participatory by design. You do not just see it, you perform it.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260310140312_c5580164e1f11a8466f591c4d514420bb5313a34b559554db05364065486c3b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="368" height="654" loading="lazy" alt="Classroom ghanti NT"> </figure>  It works as a metaphor: wake up. It works as a taunt: we are coming (“हामी आयौँ”). It operates across sensory channels a meme can travel through. The other party symbols are logos. The घण्टी is a multimedia verb in active voice. Poets on the frontline Politics has always been about performance. Murray Edelman wrote decades ago that political actions are symbolic acts: what politicians do matters less than what their actions represent.&nbsp; Guy-Ernest Debord argued that spectacle replaces lived experience. But the stage has changed. The social media feed is the new stage, and the algorithm is the casting director. It does not select for policy depth, but for recognisability, emotional charge, and remix potential. Poets have always been at the frontlines of political rupture. The French Revolution had its pamphleteers. The Bolsheviks had Mayakovsky. The Black Panthers had Gil Scott-Heron. Nepal's own political history is full of writers who paid for their words with prison or exile.&nbsp; Rap is rhythm and poetry. Balen Shah did not cross from entertainment into politics, his art was always political. “सडकबालक" in 2012 was already a protest song. The diss tracks against corruption were manifestos set to beat.&nbsp; So, if घण्टी was the sound, Balen was the voice. Supporters rang Bells to perform, projecting their hopes on Balen. One is participatory (anyone can ring it), the other is aspirational (representing what you want the country to become). Together, they form a complete symbolic system: an action and an icon, a thing you do, and a person you believe in. Both are algorithm-native. The sunglasses are instantly recognisable in a thumbnail at any size. The bell sound action is identifiable within half a second of a video starting. The confrontational attitude generates the emotional charge that the algorithm rewards.&nbsp; Balen was already trained in the language of the algorithm: hooks, rhythm, timing, and audience retention. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen grew up speaking it. The folk song brand kit: The slogans wrote themselves. While legacy politicians are just now trying to learn the language of the algorithm, Balen has grown up speaking it. The folk song brand kit The slogans wrote themselves. “चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप” spread through tea shops and bus parks like a folk proverb. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-ai-generated-election">AI-generated Mahabharat edits</a> positioned Balendra Shah as a warrior-hero fighting K P Oli in golden armour.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026031014038_cd7fbb8b4a97628757977b55d1244b192c233566dad268e894c7132d16cf180c" data-rendition-name="original" width="369" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti Chhap NT"> </figure>  The entire package, partly by accident, partly by instinct, was built to be remixed. Every element is modular: the bell, the sunglasses, the slogan, the attitude. Take any piece and make your own version. Like a ‘Deusi re” song, the melody is fixed, everyone knows it, but anyone can change the words to fit their occasion and mood. It survives across generations precisely because no one controls it.&nbsp; The घण्टी ecosystem works the same way. The melody is fixed: the bell, the sound, the slogan, the sunglasses, the attitude. But the lyrics can be anyone’s. Shoot it in your neighborhood. Dub it in your language. Film your grandmother's reaction. Set it to your local context. That's why it spread faster than any IT cell could manufacture.&nbsp; The generational pincer The standard narrative is that digital movements stay digital, and that memes are a GenZ thing. RSP broke both assumptions. Its content operation executed a pincer movement across generations, capturing not just the youth vote but used youth as a delivery mechanism into households where no party organiser could reach. The Generational Pincer Flowchart Three vectors of pressure, all converging on the same target: the living room and the dinner table, where votes in Nepal are actually decided. Downward: children trolling parents by ringing bells at dinner, turning family meals into campaign arenas. A bell rings as a prank, then as a joke, then as a political statement. By the third night, it's not funny anymore. It's a conversation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20260310140316_446e465f60994532e53b1786368dd025e9ad99a387b4121493f8826c46921cb7" data-rendition-name="original" width="364" height="669" loading="lazy" alt="Ghanti prank"> </figure>  Lateral: the diaspora pipeline. Nepalis in Australia, the Gulf, Japan, could not vote, but they turned every Viber call home into a campaign touchpoint.&nbsp; Upward: the bell pressured power itself. No RSP organiser gets a meeting with a UML ward chairman or a NC MP. But those people go home. And at home, they have teenagers, nieces, nephews, and staff whose kids are on TikTok.&nbsp; A party boss's son rings a bell at dinner and asks uncomfortable questions. A NC donor's daughter shares RSP content on her Instagram story, visible to her father's entire social circle. No political structure, no matter how hierarchical, is sealed off from its own household. The bell did not need to breach the gates of Singha Durbar, it walked in through the kitchen window. The result crossed every demographic line analysts thought was fixed. Memes didn't just stay in the feed. They colonised the living room, the kitchen, the long-distance phone call, the taxi ride. Content nobody commissioned&nbsp; What the RSP's organic content looked less like a political campaign and more like a football fan club. People were not posting because they were told to. They were posting because they belonged. Trace the trends as they accumulated: <ul> <li>“<a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rameshmahto065/video/7610784878174424338?q=chup%20chap%20ghanti%20chap&amp;t=1773115568686">चुपचाप &nbsp;घण्टीमा छाप</a>” started as a TikTok post, then showed up on motorcycle stickers, WhatsApp statuses, AI-remixed songs, and in tea-shop conversation as a folk proverb.</li> <li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rajjimond_18/video/7612570510508969236?q=ma%20ta%20balen%20ko%20fan&amp;t=1773115129539">Original songs composed by supporters</a>, not the party, gained millions of views. People danced to them at rallies and in the streets. People at polling booths created TikToks to RSP anthems to show their support.</li> <li>AI spectacle videos of Balen as a Mahabharat hero, filmy dialogue, stylised Nepal flag. Slapstick clips hitting 200K+ likes and 5M views. All made by random accounts, none traceable to party infrastructure.</li> <li>Supporters built Bell apps and websites on their own. One site, <a href="https://ghanti.website">ghanti.website</a>, was registered by a random supporter in January. Open it on your phone, shake it side to side, and it rings. Within weeks, crowds of supporters were walking through neighborhoods shaking their phones in unison, producing a wall of digital bell sound.</li> <li>The intimate content. A husband-wife vlog filmed inside a car, casually discussing what a lawmaker should actually do. Just two people talking, and it resonated more than any campaign ad.</li> </ul> None of this was centrally coordinated. Parties across Nepal spent money on polished graphics that looked like professional advertisements. RSP supporters spent nothing and made content that felt like conversation. The algorithm doesn't reward production value, it rewards emotional resonance. And nothing resonated more than the feeling that you, personally, could participate in this movement without anyone's permission. Now what? The RSP has a supermajority. The Bell rang louder than anyone predicted. But a movement built on open-source energy now has to deliver closed-source results: budgets, legislation, diplomacy, institutional reform. Balen built his brand by bypassing institutions, Prime Minister Balendra Shah has to run them. He communicated through Facebook posts and rap lyrics. Now he needs to communicate with India, China, and multilateral lenders.&nbsp; His midnight F-bomb post, deleted within 30 minutes but screenshotted by thousands, showed both his appeal (unfiltered authenticity) and his risk (unfiltered impulsiveness). The question is not whether the bell rang loud enough. It obviously did. The question is what happens when the supporters who posted without being asked start expecting results they did not specify. When the meme energy that won living rooms has to translate into parliamentary committees.&nbsp; For decades, the promise of democracy was that people choose their leaders. What RSP's campaign revealed is something more uncomfortable: in the age of the algorithm and remixable content, people do not just choose their leaders.&nbsp; They build the campaign, write the slogans, produce the content, convert their own families, and then show up to vote for the movement they made with their own hands. The party becomes a container for energy it didn't create and can't fully control.&nbsp; That's either the most democratic thing that's ever happened in Nepal, or the most dangerous. It might be both.

Nobody ran the campaign. That is why it worked.

Mamata Kumari Yadav was born just before her father passed his high school exam on his second attempt. Which is why Ram Kewal Ray thinks his daughter brings good luck. Mamata is now a government civil servant, and has three sisters and a younger brother. All are doing well in their professions: one is a doctor at the Army Hospital, another has an MSc in Microbiology, and the other is working in Australia after finishing her MPh. Her brother, an engineering student, is in Kathmandu. “It was all because our parents prioritised education that we did so well in life,” says Mamata. Instead of being woken up to do household chores or work on the family farm, they were encouraged to finish their homework first. While Ram showed his daughters the way and encouraged them to study, it was Sanjeev Karn, a primary school teacher at a school near their home, who motivated them to do well. On International Women's Day, the story of Mamata and her sisters is an inspiring account of dedication, hard work and good guidance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260309070332_e15e07735cf958367ccf7457f17b181ca168def7d3c7cf01a6d1fc76559e1422" data-rendition-name="original" width="873" height="980" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Samata, Punam, Kumudini and Mamata, the four accomplished Yadav sisters from Sarlahi</figcaption> </figure>  Boys always came first in class, but that changed when Mamata and her sisters started excelling in their studies. All four sisters consistently ranked first in their classes and became widely known in the community for their performance. “My friend Sanjay Chaudhary was my biggest competition and used to stand second. He is an engineer now. We are still good friends and laugh about how we were rivals,” recalls Mamata. In a school where no girl had previously passed the high school exam with first division, Mamata became the first to do so and set a record that her sisters later followed. Her uncle in Kathmandu called her father Ram Kewal with the news that Mamata had passed in the first division. Overjoyed, her father went to school and bought Fanta for all her teachers in celebration.&nbsp; Mamata went to Chitwan after receiving a scholarship for a health assistant course. Although her school in Sarlahi was Nepali-medium, she was not able to speak the language properly and felt more comfortable using Maithili. In the new environment, she struggled with language and confidence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260309070324_030cd8d2bd9eb6334b5dac6f402253a582e4f3c64d03ef820327935b6dd2346e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata in Sarlahi with her siblings and father when she was young</figcaption> </figure>  She was surprised to learn that Maithili is not spoken all over Nepal. The course was demanding, the textbooks were in English, the student community was diverse, and academic expectations were high. But Mamata began building friendships and confidence. Her sisters later joined her in Chitwan. Mamata returned to Sarlahi and began working with an organisation as a counsellor on sexually transmitted infections. It was her first job, and was proud to be able to support her father. Her second job with a non-profit required field visits across Sarlahi district, so she bought her own second-hand scooter.&nbsp; “Some neighbours did not approve that my parents gave me so much freedom, but they did not pay much heed to such warnings or gossip,” she says. Seeking stability she prepared for the civil service exam for auxiliary health worker position and was stationed in Sindhupalchok. When her father came to drop her off, being used to flat land he was a bit nervous about the steep mountains and 90-minute commute on foot. But he was proud to hear her patients call her ‘doctor’. Later, Mamata transferred back to her home district of Sarlahi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260309070324_2a91efea2735ba33b6e7945d46ce1c8c8f014679f14909829be3247f68619f78" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="965" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Mamata Kumari Yadav</figcaption> </figure>  On a work trip to Kathmandu, on her family's recommendation she met a young man who was pursuing a master’s degree in engineering. Their first meeting was at a cafe in the presence of her brother. She found him simple, gentle, and committed to his studies, qualities that resonated with her own personality.&nbsp; “We got married, and my parents did not have to invest in dowry for me and my sisters because they had invested in us,” recalls Mamata, who then became a health post in-charge in Lalitpur. Following administrative restructuring, she found herself reporting to juniors, which limited her sense of growth. She then decided to prepare for the civil service exams in administration. Coming from a health background, the syllabus was unfamiliar and broad. Her first attempt taken without much preparation was unsuccessful, a first failure ever for Mamata.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260309070328_19fa4ca6fde0d8a9311116c64302eddc08f22280632fc16a83c489194ef06120" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="The Girl Dad of Nepal"> <figcaption>Seeing off her sister Samata who studied MPH under the AusAID Scholarship</figcaption> </figure>  By this time, she had a son and the exam took a back seat for two years while managing her health post and raising him. When he turned two, she sent her son to Sarlahi, where her mother Phul Kumari took care of him so she could focus on her studies. This time, she passed. She became the first from her family in a government administrative position. After gaining enough experience, she aims to go back to the Madhes to serve in government positions as an honest bureaucrat. Her parents continue as they always have. Phul Kumari takes care of the household while Ram Kewal runs a pharmacy and tends to the farm back in Sarlahi. &nbsp; “We daughters owe a lot to our parents because our peers were never given the kinds of opportunities we had,” says Mamata. “They were married young and now have adult children. There is nothing girls cannot do if given the right guidance and opportunities.”

The Girl Dad of Nepal

Amidst the euphoria in Nepal about the RSP’s landslide victory, the party’s future government, possibly led by Balendra Shah will plunge headlong into an energy and economic crisis sparked by the war in West Asia. Nepal gets all its diesel, petrol, gas and aviation fuel from India and lacks a strategic stockpile to buffer against shortages. The United States has unsanctioned Russian crude oil to India for one month, but India will only export refined petroleum products to Nepal after meeting its own domestic demand. As it is, India has only 10 days of stockpile of cooking gas and it is giving preference to household use. Energy experts say new oil and gas supplies from Russia and elsewhere will take another month to arrive at Indian ports. “This conflict didn’t develop overnight, yet we did nothing to augment our reserves. Clearly, we didn’t manage procurement anticipating supply disruptions,” says economist Pushkar Bajracharya. The conflict has escalated, seriously disrupting global petroleum supplies. Nearly 20% of the world’s oil and gas moves out of the Strait of Hormuz which is now blocked. The Persian Gulf makes up most of the oil and liquified natural gas supplied to Japan (75%), India (50%) and China (38%). Crude oil prices have nearly doubled to $100 a barrel this week.&nbsp; “This crisis is only going to intensify, so in the short term, it means fuel prices will increase as will the cost of goods and services,” adds Bajracharya. “This doesn’t bode well for the new government, especially when people have such high expectations from it.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260315020356_e9f97cc4e8a41bab08fb9c318be887a7eef5ac674326a9a1c878fd80109c3ec7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1315" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="Strait of Hormuz NT"> </figure>  Fuel stoppages from India have happened before, notably during the 2015 Blockade. But Nepal could be better placed this time to cushion the shock because of the proliferation of battery-operated vehicles, and electrification of household cooking to some extent. “The increase in electric vehicles provides some relief, but it is not enough,” says energy economist and former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali. “Most critical services still run on diesel, and they cannot be replaced overnight.”&nbsp; Nepal’s expanding road network means diesel and petrol consumption is also increasing. If the war drags on, there will be a critical shortage of aviation fuel that could also hurt tourism at the start of the trekking and mountaineering season. There is already a nationwide shortage of cooking gas which is used by 62% of Nepali households. &nbsp; The fuel crisis will have a knock-on effect on the economy which the RSP government will have to tackle on an emergency footing as soon as it comes into office. The priority would be to cap fuel prices with subsidies, control hoarding, and in the longer term expedite the switch to electricity for transportation and cooking.&nbsp; MONEY IN The other impact will be on jobs in West Asia and remittances. Nearly half the $11 billion a year Nepalis send home every year comes from West Asian countries. Nepal’s hard currency reserves have hit a record high $21.09 billion, but that cash will be of no use if there is no fuel to buy. A sharp drop in remittances due to the collapse of the economies of the Gulf states if the war is prolonged will have a multiplier impact particularly on Nepalis' household expenses and the country’s economy in general. This in turn will have a knock-on effect on investment, and affect the RSP government’s main agenda which is to create jobs at home. The vicious cycle will then mean that more Nepalis will want to migrate for overseas jobs, but options in the Gulf may not be available. The RSP’s ministers in government will have to come up with innovative ways to re-integrate Nepalis forced to return because they lose their jobs, or for safety reasons. There are nearly 2 million Nepalis across the UAE, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and another 7,000 mainly women caregivers in Israel. “Other than the impact on remittances and the economy, there could be the additional challenge of rescuing over 2 million Nepalis in West Asia if it comes to that,” says Bajracharya. “We don’t have the resources, and we will have to rely on India’s logistical help.” The RSP’s main vote bank was among global Nepalis, who could not cast &nbsp;ballots themselves but influenced families and friends back home to choose the party. Social media was abuzz with slogans that promoted how choosing the RSP would bring their children back home from the Gulf. “The RSP got a majority, and that’s a good thing but voters came together to oppose UML, NC and the Maoists. But there is no clear ideology or philosophy, so while their slogan to bring Nepalis back from the Gulf sounds nice, what would they come back to?” asks Gyawali. The Nepali diaspora in the Gulf that influenced the electorate so effectively will now be looking at how the government it helped get to power in Kathmandu will help as war engulfs the region.&nbsp; There is an almost unrealistically high expectation of the RSP, and the party may not even get the customary 100-day honeymoon period. The cabinet could be put together easily enough, but the bureaucracy, judiciary, police, and the Upper House are all populated by loyalists of the old parties. Despite bad blood, the RSP will have to work together with all parties in the face of the crisis unleashed by the war. And Nepal’s politicised foreign policy must be galvanised to deal with the crisis.

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