A 4-day family trek last month was vivid proof of the truth in the old adage: it is the journey and the people that truly matter, not just the destination. It was word-of-mouth recommendation that brought us to the sustainable tourism company Three Sisters, owned and run by women. The guides assured us our children would be well taken care of and our group of novice trekkers would not be rushed. As we negotiated the uphill steps, passing gushing waterfalls and forests ablaze with rhododendron, we had plenty of time to get to know our two experienced guides and the eight support staff. Their life stories highlighted the transformative power of sustainable, ethical, and empowering tourism in shaping lives and journeys. THE GUIDES Yasudhara is literally a trailblazer. A mother of a 7-year-old, she has had to seamlessly blend her caring role at home with her professional responsibilities as a guide in a male dominated and uncertain industry. Besides leading the pack, Yasudhara kept our children motivated and entertained, leaving an indelible mark on them. By the journey’s end, the little ones of our foreign friends soaked Nepali phrases. “hfd hfd” became their spirited rallying cry as we moved up and down the trails. Even as Yasudhara sometimes told them to slow down with “जाम जाम” it was the rhythmic chant of “जाम जाम” that followed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_b57170cc61b35c07e370e48b7e93d916e4cd9bfa72d7230b93a39eedd8e5a48e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240427020412_b57170cc61b35c07e370e48b7e93d916e4cd9bfa72d7230b93a39eedd8e5a48e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> </figure>  When she first became a guide, Yasudhara recalled she had to defy her family’s wishes. They were skeptical of her choice of career to lead foreigners through Nepal’s remote, rural landscapes. The workplace was equally challenging. At that time, no one was accustomed to female guides, and accommodations were scarce. Yasudhara slept in dining rooms and outdoors, keeping her distance from male guides who often drank and indulged in unwelcome behaviour. But times have changed. Female-led teams from Three Sisters now guide trekkers all over Nepal. But now, Yasudhara grapples with the guilt of leaving her child behind, even though she is shaping a future where her son will understand the power of gender equality and women’s economic empowerment. “I want to earn my keep, without having to rely on my brothers and husband,” Yasudhara tells us during a rest stop. Tila is in her mid-30s, and thrived as a guide before the pandemic, navigating and overcoming many gender stereotypes and challenges in her profession. Starting as an assistant at the agency, she steadily climbed the ranks to become a permanent guide, earning a modest base salary and commissions. She enjoys preferential access to trips involving foreign visitors. During peak seasons, work flows steadily, allowing her to hibernate during quieter times. She also seized learning opportunities provided by her employer. She participated in courses on the ecosystems of trekking regions, cultural sensitivity, first aid and emergency response, navigation and route knowledge, and sharpening her English proficiency.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_5fbd0826aaa69f65f3872bf89fce702ad6391fec4fb2e51bb101101ce3a9225d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240427020412_5fbd0826aaa69f65f3872bf89fce702ad6391fec4fb2e51bb101101ce3a9225d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> </figure>  Then, the pandemic struck. Trekkers vanished. Tila’s gratitude for finally returning to work is tempered by the reality that Nepal’s trekking industry has not fully recovered. This was her fourth consecutive trek, leaving her cautiously optimistic. Yet the trail ahead remains uncertain. &nbsp;THE ASSISTANTS The eight assistants who accompanied us, three women and five men, were more than ‘porters’. This was a group of eight remarkable individuals, distinct from traditional porters found on trekking trails and their significance extended far beyond carrying our gear. Kusum, 19, harbours dreams of being the first in her family to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in Commerce from a college in Pokhara. Her motivation for joining the trek was twofold: to earn enough to pay for her accommodation expenses, and eventually to earn the experience to be a guide herself one day. With every step she took, she carried not only her backpack but also her aspiration for a brighter future. Sita, 36, is a single mother with three children. She is from a landless Dalit family, and lives in a rented house by the highway. Entrusting her 17-year-old to care for younger siblings, she works for Three Sisters during peak trekking season and returns to her village to take up the odd agricultural work with meagre wages. Despite challenges, she finds solace in the decent work provided by the trekking company. For women like her from disadvantaged backgrounds, these opportunities are lifelines. “There is so little work in my village, and the money I earn on these treks helps educate and feed my children,” she says. Yogesh, like many young Nepali men, wants to migrate abroad. He is at the crossroads of his past and an unwritten future. “Our villages are empty, there are few young people left,” he says. “All my friends have gone overseas for work. I am thinking of doing the same.” For Yogesh, this trek symbolised a bridge between two worlds, a chance to bear the costs of recruitment fees for a job overseas instead of his family having to pay. Khem is an older migrant returnee. His weathered hands bear the calluses of hard labour, each crease etched with memories from 15 years at a construction site in Dubai and two years in Qatar. He recounts how limited opportunities in Nepal drove him out, and his experience in the Gulf: “It was backbreaking work, so far away from my loved ones.” Dhak Bahadur is in his late-40s and carries the weight of responsibility for his Dalit family back home. His two sons and daughter, on the cusp of adulthood, look up to him. “I want my children to have a better life, they should not endure the hardship I have known,” he says. His broad shoulders carry not only our rucksack, but dreams of education, stability and dignity for the next generation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_3e8f08df5ed34e991aebd9e314c3903b90fbc80c2d146694493608e31d42c0a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240427020412_3e8f08df5ed34e991aebd9e314c3903b90fbc80c2d146694493608e31d42c0a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> <figcaption>Bimbika Sijapati Basnett (far left) with Three Sisters trekking guide. Sijapati is a researcher and practitioner working on gender and social development.</figcaption> </figure>  Three Sisters upholds a strict rule: Assistants carry no more than 10-12kg each. As customers, we also left a small space in our own rucksacks for their belongings. However, this essential work practice remains far from universal. Despite laws against heavy loads, most ‘porters’ are made to carry 30kg or more of trekking gear. After decades of carrying heavy loads up and down mountains, many have chronic spinal problems and headaches. At rest stops, the men conversed among themselves, and I glimpsed the value they embraced: women led the way. The Three Sisters are leaving a legacy. Dhak Bahadur confides, “I want my daughter to be fluent in English and become part of a women-led tourism company too.” A Nepal trek gives visitors a glimpse of the impact of migration and remittance on rural areas. Nearly half of the households have at least one family member working abroad, or someone who has returned from overseas or India. They are predominantly men aged 20-44, and form the backbone of the country’s most productive workforce. Along the trail, we can see evidence of newfound prosperity from remittances, allowing many families to break free from poverty and deprivation. Yet migration is far from being a seamless journey. It begins with the challenge of pooling resources to cover direct and indirect costs. Upon return, a lingering question returns, 'what next?' as migrant returnees grapple with reintegration. Migrants, dreamers, carriers of hope shuffle along with silent footsteps along stone steps amidst a stunning backdrop of Annapurna and Machapuchre suffused in the golden light of sunrise. Each step is a promise that every ascent, every descent, is a collective endeavour towards a world where equality, opportunity and compassion bloom brightly like the rhododendron.

What sustainable tourism means in practice

Bottom

Kanchan Basnyat won the Turkish Airlines World Golf Cup Kathmandu Qualifier at Gokarna Golf Club on 5 May, scoring 42 points at the tournament played under the stableford format. He secured a position for the Turkish Airlines World Golf Cup final in Antalya, Turkey in December.
René Vijay Shrestha Einhaus scored 41 gross points to get the best gross award while Tashi Tshiring took the nett runner-up prize after getting 40 nett points. Anil Sinha won the closest to the pin among male and Gita Gurung won the same prize among female golfers. Nawang Phinjo Sherpa made a hole-in-one for which he won a round trip to Istanbul. A total of 91 golfers took part in the tournament.

Turkish Golf Cup

Acting Ncell CTO Lena Keshari Kansakar received the National IT Excellence Award from the Ministry of Communication and Information Technology. Kansakar, who joined Ncell as an assistant engineer in 2005, leads a 140-person technical team and has been involved in implementing 2G, 3G, and 4G as well as connecting rural areas to the network.

Ncell Awarded

BYD Asia Pacific Auto Sales General Manager Liu Xueliang was in Nepal from 4-6 May visiting company showrooms and service centres around the valley. He lauded Nepal’s rapid adoption of electric cars. BYD also held a growth summit and a gala at the Marriott Hotel during his stay. &nbsp;

BYD GM in Nepal

There is no failure. Just feedback. -Robert Allen  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240504080540_bf637956d38325d7b9e71ea4a2de186e7a87a2386c91065b5e6883a00d5e9678.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240504080540_bf637956d38325d7b9e71ea4a2de186e7a87a2386c91065b5e6883a00d5e9678" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="2700" loading="lazy" alt="miss moti"> </figure>

There is no failure

Anyone following Nepal’s mainstream press this week to find out what is happening would conclude that there was: a) an investment summit, b) a couple of by-elections, and c) another scandal involving Home Minister Rabi Lamichhane.&nbsp; But there is a full scale national emergency that has got scant coverage — thousands of forest fires have been raging across Nepal for more than a month. They have done incalculable damage to the economy, the ecology, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/cleaner-air-longer-lives-0z0okfeu" target="_blank">reduced the average lifespan of Nepalis</a> due to dangerous air pollution.&nbsp; Any other accountable government would set aside everything else and go into fire-fighting mode on a war footing. Not here. There is no indication that state agencies have gauged or understood the sheer extent of this disaster. The media should have sent alarm bells ringing. But its gatekeepers and owners in Kathmandu decide what is important, they get to decide what to report and what not to report. They select which items of news should get due prominence. Normalising this fire calamity and treating it like just another annual event is burying our head in the sand. Not recognising the urgency and seriousness of this year’s prolonged fire season is a disastrous failure. The spring of 2009 and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/wildfires-in-nepal-cause-air-quality-to-plummet" target="_blank">2021</a> were bad, but the fires then were not as widespread and long-lasting as this year. Since early March, there have been tens of thousands of fires, many of which are still burning out of control across the country, consuming entire mountainsides, incinerating villages and killing dozens. There are many reasons why this year has been particularly bad, but putting the blame solely on climate change <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/more-pre-monsoon-forest-fires-in-nepal" target="_blank">misses the bigger picture</a>. In spring villagers deliberately set fire to grasslands so new shoots will grow out of the ashes for livestock to graze on once the rains come. Poachers have also been known to set fire to forests to trap deer as they flee. In the Tarai, fringes of the jungles are deliberately torched by the real estate mafia. This spring, the countryside was tinder dry due to a prolonged winter drought. Nepal’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tree-mendous" target="_blank">forest cover has doubled</a> in the past three decades to nearly 45% of the country’s area. Mass outmigration from the rural mountains means there are fewer people foraging for fuel and fodder in the forests. The undergrowth was therefore loaded with highly combustible dried-out biomass waiting for a spark. A record-breaking early summer heat wave this year desiccated the soil, already dry because of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/water-table-of-kathmandu-valley-falling-fast-recharge-to-replenish,4100" target="_blank">over-extraction of ground water</a> for agriculture, and neglect of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465" target="_blank">traditional ponds</a>. All it took was a match to light the dry grass at the bottom of a mountain to set the whole place ablaze.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240430080436_cc8168a1d33c8ac5a219e064bed4e9bbf4d008968c05eb4c8749f7a1fd5f61f7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240430080436_cc8168a1d33c8ac5a219e064bed4e9bbf4d008968c05eb4c8749f7a1fd5f61f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1328" height="666" loading="lazy" alt="Smoke Screen Editorial NT #1210"> <figcaption>A NASA FIRMS image showing fires burning on 29 April all over Nepal and India.</figcaption> </figure>  Another source of smoke, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/going-up-in-smoke" target="_blank">as this paper reported recently</a>, is the growing trend of farmers in the Tarai burning wheat stalk in the fields after harvest because of lack of labour due to outmigration. Nepal’s air pollution has been at dangerous levels for months, with the Air Quality Index (AQI) that measures the concentration of harmful particles less than 2.5 microns in diameter at 250-300 for prolonged periods. All this smoke and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/warning-breathing-is-hazardous-to-health" target="_blank">Kathmandu’s own vehicular emissions</a> have made it the world’s most polluted city for weeks now, making COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) the most common ailment in hospitals.&nbsp; Besides reducing lifespans of citizens, the smoke is doing immense damage to the economy. Pokhara airport has been mostly closed this week due to poor visibility during the peak tourist season. Hundreds of tourists who come to Nepal to see the mountains have not seen any —not even Sarangkot is visible from Lakeside in Pokhara. Thousands of tourists are stranded at various airports. <div class="embed-block"><iframe src='https://flo.uri.sh/visualisation/17788782/embed' title='Interactive or visual content' class='flourish-embed-iframe' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' style='width:100%;height:600px;' sandbox='allow-same-origin allow-forms allow-scripts allow-downloads allow-popups allow-popups-to-escape-sandbox allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation'></iframe><div style='width:100%!;margin-top:4px!important;text-align:right!important;'><a class='flourish-credit' href='https://public.flourish.studio/visualisation/17788782/?utm_source=embed&utm_campaign=visualisation/17788782' target='_top' style='text-decoration:none!important'></a></div></div> The smoke and ash from the unprecedented fires has been transported up the mountains to be deposited on already-receding glaciers, melting them even faster because of the reduced reflectivity of dirty ice.&nbsp; The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later" target="_blank">National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority</a>, with its unwieldy acronym NDRRMA, should be paying as much attention to fire disasters as it devotes to earthquakes and floods. Soon, the pre-monsoon rains will douse the fires, and our fatalistic society will forget about wildfires for another year. Then the season of ‘natural disasters’ like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/don-t-just-blame-god-for-floods-and-landslides" target="_blank">floods and landslides</a> will be upon us and we are not adequately prepared for it either. It is too late to do anything about this year’s disaster, but here is a checklist for the 2025 wildfire season:&nbsp; <ul> <li>Ward-level awareness campaign and punitive measures against pyromaniacs.&nbsp;</li> <li>Train security agencies and equip them with firefighting equipment.</li> <li>Fit Nepal Army helicopters with water bombing gear to fight fires in difficult terrain.&nbsp;</li> <li>Firelines and forest management to reduce combustible undergrowth.&nbsp;</li> </ul>

Smoke Screen

Through the intricate lattice window on the western facade of the palace must have been from where the Malla kings of Patan looked down at the square below.&nbsp; Today, visitors to Patan Museum can sit at the exact corner and see the same square which, several centuries later, remains largely unchanged. Except for the tourists and devotees at Krishna Mandir and other temples.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_31791a3a564ecaf85ad9e9ee52488bff034a5336f6561a0df2cb6d8e740cacea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240329060316_31791a3a564ecaf85ad9e9ee52488bff034a5336f6561a0df2cb6d8e740cacea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Keshav Narayan Chok. All photos: SUMAN NEPALI(Photo: suman)</figcaption> </figure>  Inside is the best-designed museum in Nepal, the work of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Back-to-Basics-in-Bhaktapur,1377">Götz Hagmüller</a> and his team of architects, who had made Bhaktapur his home and who died in February. Hagmüller did not just restore the old palace, but also designed the museum interior and curated the exhibits. But most importantly, the team ensured that the museum would have an independent governing body that would use revenue from fees and events for the museum’s upkeep. This has given the museum a rare longevity for an institution in Nepal. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-s-legacy-is-goetz-hagmueller-s-legacy">Kathmandu’s legacy is Götz Hagmüller’s legacy</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_460c6ade80ae4064d3f761de57b7a004f9b755645db3185366754b1d2ffe82e4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240329060316_460c6ade80ae4064d3f761de57b7a004f9b755645db3185366754b1d2ffe82e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> </figure>  The result is more than one of Kathmandu’s most popular destinations for visitors, but a museum that serves an educational function for Nepali students, supplementing what they learn in social studies and history classes in school. The carefully curated bronze, stone and wooden figures span Nepal’s religious faiths, historical periods and geographical zones, providing a striking experience of exploration and learning. Hagmüller led the restoration project of the Keshav Narayan Chok and the dilapidated palace structure, preserving the traditional architecture of the palace while modernising it to suit modern museum necessities. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/learning-from-nepals-past-to-rebuild-its-future/" target="_blank">Learning from Nepal's past to rebuilt its future</a>, Prakriti Kandel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_bfc89739080a1339c9db8a83c7bc332aea37893f6cd9cb506b1a369ac9a68d00.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240329060316_bfc89739080a1339c9db8a83c7bc332aea37893f6cd9cb506b1a369ac9a68d00" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> </figure>  At a time when technology has taken over, and patience to learn through real experiences has decreased, Patan Museum is a space for young students and visitors to learn about Nepal’s glorious past, its culture, and observe intricate Nepali craftsmanship. “Patan Museum is a place of learning regarding two major aspects: heritage and art, specifically relating to Hinduism and Buddhism,” explains Suresh Man Lakhe of Patan Museum. “Students may learn about Buddha’s life in their textbooks, but the museum supplements that learning by letting them visualise his legacy.” &nbsp; Only 200 of the Museum’s expansive collection of 1,100 objects are currently on view, and they are spread across eight themed galleries. Images range from major gods of the Hindu pantheon such as Vishnu, Shiva and Ganesh to benign or fierce representations of Bodhisattvas.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">Preserving Patan post-earthquake</a>, Claire Burket  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_40b0b223afe15566e200ac14f69a527eacc736b040f5b5d982930aa601c51b41.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240329060316_40b0b223afe15566e200ac14f69a527eacc736b040f5b5d982930aa601c51b41" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Dipankara Buddha</figcaption> </figure>  The section on Buddhist chaityas has clear explanatory notes about the significance of their design. No student will look at Swayambhu or Boudha after learning why the spire and cupola look the way they do. Indeed, all the exhibits have bilingual captions with comprehensive backgrounds about the myths and symbols present in the art pieces and their approximate age. This helps answer frequently asked questions from students such as the reason behind the multiple heads and hands of deities, the symbolic ornaments of Shiva and Vishnu, and the significance of the stupa design.&nbsp; The composition, medium, symbols, and expressions of bronze gilt copper repoussé are explained in detail, including the craftsmanship of the lost wax process. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/bedrock-of-buddhism">Bedrock of Buddhism</a>, Kunda Dixit  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_8e1bcf9bace65f4b7ba2c8b05cf92337b1f54d12776ebc0841bd179b56faf7a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20240329060316_8e1bcf9bace65f4b7ba2c8b05cf92337b1f54d12776ebc0841bd179b56faf7a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Students can learn in detail the process of creating a repoussé mask at the Patan Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Gallery B has explanations of Ganesh in a military avatar, ablaze with a flaming backdrop, and another of the elephantine god with six heads and six arms. He rests on snakes in one sculpture and is part of an oil lamp in another. There are nuanced variations in the depiction of Ganesh’s eyes and trunks in each of the objects. "Patan Museum, and indeed the whole Darbar Square, is a living heritage where our students learn history through the architecture, art, culture, and festivals,” says Rekha Pandey, a social studies teacher and educator at Rato Bangala Foundation. “It is ideal learning as the museum exhibits provide a multi-sensory experience that cannot be found in textbooks or lectures.” Museum staff are planning interactive worksheets and cards as learning devices with colourful and interactive worksheets ‘Let’s Discover Patan Darbar’ that allow students to navigate the historic square.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/itumbahas-living-museum">Itumbaha's living museum</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_1d6a101fa7f8c593070171abbf2866b73497ac3a10f5660bb716f1aa85da9aa6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240329060316_1d6a101fa7f8c593070171abbf2866b73497ac3a10f5660bb716f1aa85da9aa6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>A 12th-century limestone sculpture of Uma-Maheswar depicting Shiva’s family on Mount Kailash.</figcaption> </figure>  Lakhe says the museum can expand its instructional function with a separate education department. “With additional resources devoted to education, we can focus on creating much more learning opportunities for students,” he adds. &nbsp; There is a story behind every exhibit at the Museum. Gallery B, for example, hosts a 12th-century limestone sculpture of Uma-Maheswar depicting Shiva’s divine family on Mount Kailash. This statue was stolen in 1982 and then returned by a museum in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/how-did-a-nepali-ritual-altar-end-up-in-berlin">Berlin</a> in 1990. Another piece shows Vishnu carried by the Sunbird, a copper alloy sculpture dating back to the 17th century, adorned with metallic Garuda wings. Students can learn in detail the process of creating a repoussé mask, from an initial pencil design to the feeling of the hammer hitting the bronze sheet. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/remembering-nepals-lost-and-the-found">Remembering Nepal's lost and the found</a>, Ashish Dhakal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240329060316_4431f200938cef4be6b390dbde827c0973d85c2ab36dcc1669e6b9dc92319f3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240329060316_4431f200938cef4be6b390dbde827c0973d85c2ab36dcc1669e6b9dc92319f3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A portal into Patan’s past and present Page 6-7 #1025 NT"> <figcaption>Tusha Hiti where King Siddhi Narsingh Malla used to pray and meditate in the 1640s.</figcaption> </figure>  Patan Museum provides an open-air experience, it is not limited to a building but has access to multiple courtyards including the Mul Chok and Sundari Chok with the exquisite Tusha Hiti step well, and the Bhandarkhal Tank. One of the treasures of the Patan Museum is Tusha Hiti step well where King Siddhi Narsingh Malla used to pray and meditate in the 1640s overlooking a gilded copper spout depicting a Garuda and Laxmi Narayan, and embellished by over 50 carved stone deities in thrones of carved foliage. Visitors can retrace the steps of past royals and their court treading the same stone steps that have been polished by the passage of feet and time.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/patan-heritage-in-fantasy-fiction">Patan heritage in fantasy fiction</a>, Trishagni Sakya

A portal into Patan’s past and present

Formal education in schools and universities became available to ordinary Nepalis only 70 years ago. But even then women were not encouraged to get an education.&nbsp; The 1971 Education Plan laid out a strategy to raise literacy levels, and encouraged girls’ enrollment in schools. Over the decades, female teachers were added to school faculties, girls were given scholarships and free basic education and women’s rights were enshrined in the Constitution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240317070340_f88f873c913f8f2462393927e5e05021cf1f9819eab883262f3e000895765dec" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> <figcaption>ALL PHOTOS: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  The progress is undeniable: Nepal now boasts near-equal enrollment rates for both boys and girls at primary level. However, dropout rates for young women is still high in secondary and higher education. The female literacy rate is 69.4% compared to 83.6% for males. Socio-cultural norms, poverty, child marriage and lack of proper sanitation facilities in schools are factors hindering equal access to education.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240317070340_9d99549d1480caacc3aa9ced49dc83cdea6148a5df4a3e53d3297f95e9bf2ff9" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  But in a case of better late than never, older women who were denied education when young are enrolling in formal education. “We have studied that men and women are wheels of the same chariot. How can the chariot move forward when one wheel is well oiled and the other is not,” asks Anjana Maharjan, Principal of Shradha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu that offers classes from Grade 1 through 10 for girls 12 years and above.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240317070328_b4438e12d33f45dda5b8f285735c0ffc66230fc2f4e3f27267f4e88da7c1b24d" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Age no bar"> </figure>  “When a man is educated, the house prospers, whereas when a woman is educated, the family prospers. When a family is capable, the village becomes capable. When a village becomes capable, the country develops,” she adds. But the road back to the classroom is not always smooth. Household chores for women often leave little time for studies. The social stigma of starting school later in life or the fear of being judged can be deterrents for some. Many lack of support from their families, and have to lie about going to school.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240317070340_f10385968c6fd0a31856b9e6da39648857c9e039a40265cad19301bbc0cd9a5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="5719" height="3812" loading="lazy" alt="age no bar"> </figure>  “There are students here who come here while telling their family that they are going to work,” says Prabha Chalise, Principal at Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato that provides classes for young women 14 years and older.&nbsp; Some women stay on after class to finish their assignments and leave their books in school so that no one back home finds out.&nbsp; “Society and family should encourage women, they must inspire them and push them to get an education, not judge them for it,” says Chalise. Meet some of the women achieving their lifelong dream of attending school: Indra Kumari Ale, 71  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240317070320_6074a2419e92ce4ac3d3bf285dd8dcfd6a07121b2622920c64f9acb65919d738" data-rendition-name="original" width="3840" height="2416" loading="lazy" alt="Indra Kumari Ale"> </figure>  Every morning, Indra Kumari Ale takes a half an hour walk from her home in Kusunti to Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Satdobato, carrying a blue and purple backpack. Once inside the brown gates, she makes her way to the second floor and takes her place inside the classroom. Growing up in Syangja, Ale got basic education, but her father thought girls did not need education and married her off at the age of 18. Her husband was in the Indian army, and Ale took care of her in-laws while he was away serving.&nbsp; For 25 years, the two maintained a long-distance relationship and her husband would only be home during holidays. Because she herself could not go to school, Ale made sure all her children did. Her two older daughters were married off after completing high school, and her youngest daughter has completed medical school. &nbsp;&nbsp; During all the time she was home looking after the family, Ale yearned to go to school but that dream never materialised until 2015 when her youngest daughter, convinced her to join the school for women. &nbsp; She started in Grade 1, and excelled in studies, got the highest scores in class skipped grades. “It was easy in the lower classes, even till class 7/8, but it is more difficult now more so because of my age, my eyes and ears have started to fail,” she says.&nbsp; Last year, Ale sat for her SEE exams, which she says was “fun”, giving the test with other students who were her grandchildren’s age.&nbsp; “The students as well as the teachers there showed me love and respect as I was sitting for exams at my age. I did not think I would pass, but I did,” she says.&nbsp; Until then not many outside Ale’s family knew she was going to school. When the results were announced, people from her locality came to know that she had passed the SEE exams, and they came together to honour her for her achievement.&nbsp; Now in Grade 11, she is proud of her decision to go to school. “In the past when my neighbours asked where I was going carrying a backpack, I would say I’m going for a walk,” says Ale. “These days everyone in my community knows I go to school and they love and respect me for continuing my education.” Education has not only given Ale recognition in her family and society but has also helped her become more independent. “From reading signboards to hailing buses, I can do all that by myself now,” she says. “Now, I understand English even if I can’t speak it properly yet, I did not think I’d be able to do all this at this age.” Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240317070320_2f9f1b34ba9ec0f43524398cea9ef85d1f0864310e2434e522d80c0367278885" data-rendition-name="original" width="5880" height="3892" loading="lazy" alt="Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar"> <figcaption>Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar, 55</figcaption> </figure>  In the mountains of Palpa, Prem Kumari Rajkoti Magar was known for her dulcet voice and an interest in singing. Villagers would invite her to perform in rodhi, dohori and other programs. She happily obliged. Over the years, she published two albums and played small roles in Nepali tele serials but she was troubled by the fact that she did not know how to read or write. She came to Kathmandu 25 years ago, where her husband landed a job. She also looked for jobs in offices, but they said the most she was capable of was cleaning and mopping floors.&nbsp; “I faced a lot of humiliation because I could not read or write,” recalls Magar. Once, while auditioning for a role in a Nepali movie, she was handed her lines. A younger woman read them out for her so she could memorise them, but not before remarking, “Why would a person who cannot even read the lines apply?” &nbsp; She was embarrassed, and the comment damaged her confidence. She fumbled through the audition and was not surprised when she did not get the role. “Even when singing, I kept thinking that if I knew how to read, I wouldn’t have to struggle to memorise all the words, I could even write my own songs,” says Magar. “All of these life experiences taught me the importance of education.” Magar always wanted to study but growing up she never had the chance to because “education was never a priority in the village” and for her parents. Once she was married, she was too busy taking care of the household.&nbsp; Magar had given up on ever learning to read when she learnt of Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School in Swayambhu, and made up her mind to enroll. Her husband and sons supported her decision, and she got enrolled in Grade 1.&nbsp; “I did not feel embarrassed to study with students who were younger than me, plus there were others who were similar to me in age and older learning their alphabets too,” she says.&nbsp; For nearly two years, she has been taking care of household chores and rushing to school every morning. &nbsp;This year she had to take two months off from school when her daughter-in-law gave birth but is now back in class. Now in Grade 2, Magar diligently attends school from 11am to 3pm every weekday and says she can now confidently sign her name in both English and Nepali, and use her mobile phone. She wants to study as long as she is healthy and can move around. “I am happy that I get to study at this age,” says Magar. “Women should study so that they can be financially and socially independent. When they are educated they will know the ways of the world, they won't get cheated, they can maintain their privacy and more importantly they can voice their opinion.” Shobha Thapa, 60  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240317070324_9e63b29002a8c8a3a5b9409716fba9e810ada69adbf6a3e055f50181b1f76553" data-rendition-name="original" width="4627" height="3084" loading="lazy" alt="Shobha Thapa"> <figcaption>Shobha Thapa, 60</figcaption> </figure>  When she was young, Shobha Thapa learned to recognise the Nepali alphabets by peeking and eavesdropping on her siblings' lessons. She never got to go to school, and once married got too busy raising children. But she made sure her children would get the best education and enrolled them in English medium schools. “The teachers would talk to me in English,” recalls Thapa. “I couldn’t understand anything but I was too embarrassed to admit it or ask what they meant.” At home, she would often feel excluded when people said she would not understand the issue because she was uneducated. “There are simply too many humiliations for me to recount now. But what they all taught me was that education is important,” says Thapa. She could not muster up the courage to tell her husband about her desire to go to school. But one day he himself brought home a newspaper featuring a story of Prerana Mahila Secondary School. She told him she wanted to enroll, and he agreed.&nbsp; Her youngest son had just come home after graduating from an engineering college, so she asked him to take her to the school for admissions. Thapa finally started school at age 50.&nbsp; “I cannot describe the feeling of happiness on that first day,” says Thapa who is now in Grade 11. “I felt that I had already achieved a lot.” Her zeal was so strong she would have her books open when she was cooking or doing laundry.&nbsp; Thapa was the top performing student till the pandemic hit. “I did not know how to use a laptop, but managed to take online classes,” says Thapa who was much happier when physical classes resumed. She says she still needs to work on her English.&nbsp; After passing her SEE exams last year, she has felt a shift in people’s attitude towards her. “People who called me hariyo kakro (why eat green cucumbers when it’s time to die) now show respect and ask me for help,” she says.&nbsp; Thapa wants to continue in her path and is proud of what she has achieved. She doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone that she is in school or encourage other women to start studying. She adds, “Education opens up the world. It is what makes us human beings and it is especially important for women because she needs to be strong to face the world.” Surya Kumari Shrestha, 67  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240317070344_315fbecadb75acba0c8abd602bcc3d53d5bc0bb98e60ec378e942022b3a9d447" data-rendition-name="original" width="4344" height="2866" loading="lazy" alt="Surya Kumari Shrestha"> </figure>  As a child, Surya Kumari Shrestha never went to school even though there was one in her village. She did attend kindergarten, writing on slates with chalk. But she never continued in school. Later when her contemporaries went on to hold jobs and some worked as teachers, she regretted not studying, and spent most of her life thinking ‘what if’. 20 years ago, she moved to Kathmandu. In her new home, there was a telephone that her family members used often. “Everyone dialed different numbers to talk to different people and I wondered how they did that,” remembers Shrestha. “I had no idea how it worked.” Today, she comfortably uses her mobile and talks to her daughters and video calls her son in Japan. “I dial the numbers myself and call whoever I want to call,” she says. “Maybe I cannot do everything, but I can do more now than when I did not go to school.” A student of Grade 8 at Shraddha Mahila Alternative Secondary School, for Shrestha the decision to join the school was not just to study but also for companionship.&nbsp; With her son abroad and her daughters married, Shrestha lives alone with her dog Pinki. “If I don’t come to school, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Here I have friends and I get to learn new things,” she says.&nbsp; Her children, relatives and neighbours all know that she is attending school and support her decision. On days when she is at home, her neighbours ask why she is missing class.&nbsp; Education has given her the confidence to face the world as a single woman. Recently when she was asked for her thumbprints on a document, she replied that she could sign her own name.&nbsp; Says Shrestha, “I want to sit for SEE exams and then go to college. Education has brought about many positive changes in my life.” Nirmala Chhetri, 56  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240317070324_0335aab1fa79e1f2a4bd421c12538054a5c571d9fec53b1d199c281882781a12" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Nirmala Chhetri"> <figcaption>Nirmala Chhetri, 56</figcaption> </figure>  Nirmala Chhetri is a social activist and an entrepreneur. Over the years, she worked at various hotels, opened and operated a women’s cooperative, ran her own tailoring business and is now with the Godavari Chamber of Commerce and Industry.&nbsp; On the outside, her life looked good, but Chhetri secretly yearned to continue her education. After her high school exams, she had learned to type. Her accuracy and speed brought in an offer for a government job, but she had to turn it because her family’s disapproval.&nbsp; In 1985, she passed her SLC exams and joined Namuna Machhindra College for her IA, but she had to put her studies on hold and get married. Her home life took precedence as she brought up her children. Because she could not study to her heart’s content, she made sure all three of her children, especially her daughter went to school. Two of her children are now in Australia and her son works with Nepal Airlines. “I always wanted to continue my studies,” says Chhetri. “But when I joined the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the men there were much more educated than me. This made me feel a bit inferior, but it also made me more determined.”&nbsp; She joined Prerana Mahila Secondary School in Grade 11 and plans to continue on to do a bachelor’s in law.&nbsp; “I feel happy. I feel proud of myself and have regained my confidence,” says Chhetri. “I now think I can do much more in life.” Chhetri's family is fully supportive, and with her children all grown up, she feels this is the time to invest in her own personal growth. &nbsp; “We women have reached this point by sacrificing a lot, so our family and children had opportunities,” says Chhetri. “Why should we give up opportunities at this point in our lives too? Women are now free, we should make the most of it.”

Age no bar to go to school

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Kapuche used to be a meadow where herders from the valley below brought buffaloes and goats to graze in summer. &nbsp; The name itself is derived from the Gurung words ‘kah’ (ice), ‘phu’ (tumbling), and ‘che’ (flat land), perfectly describing what happens here: ice avalanches tumble 5,000m from the peaks of Annapurna directly down to the pasture. &nbsp; In 2001, small ponds started forming on the accumulated ice. Global warming has now melted the ice, and Kapuche is a turquoise lake shimmering like a jewel below Lamjung Himal, Annapurna II and IV and Sikles Peak.&nbsp; The lake is situated at 2,450m, and is tucked away in such a deep valley that none of those peaks are visible from its shore. A two hour walk below the lake is Hugu Goth, a cattle shed where herders used to stay summers as livestock grazed in the succulent grass. As a boy 42 years ago, I used to walk here barefoot from Sikles on school excursions to learn about the mountain ecosystem. Global warming had not yet melted the ice, so buffaloes and goats could cross over to the other side to graze. The winter snow used to come like clockwork in January when families in Sikles celebrated Maghe Sankranti. Monsoons were regular with three months of relentless rain and mist. Winters are now dry, and the monsoons have become erratic. I did my master’s in national parks and tourism in New Zealand and a doctorate in conservation tourism in Australia, and am interested in how climate change impacts the Himalaya, especially my home region below the Annapurnas.&nbsp; I next travelled to Kapuche in 2015. By then, the lake was &nbsp;constantly fed by avalanches and glacial melt flowing down from the cliffs above. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240503110552_96d13e7b1db5de33e3fb7e6112ad4189aee05f69fef498849f4995863a479991.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240503110552_96d13e7b1db5de33e3fb7e6112ad4189aee05f69fef498849f4995863a479991" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1920" loading="lazy" alt="aerial view"> <figcaption>An aerial view of Kapuche from a sightseeing aircraft of Avia Club Nepal. PHOTO: AVIA CLUB NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Nearly 10 years later, we visited Kapuche again last week, and noticed that the lake had grown dramatically bigger with icebergs floating on the surface. Above, the escarpments of Annapurna IV appear to have much less ice than in 2015. With us was the Chair of the Annapurna Conservation Area (ACA) Management Committee of Parche Village and MP Man Bahadur Gurung who has also noticed many changes here over the years.&nbsp; Hugu Goth used to have half a dozen families growing maize, beans and potatoes, and tending to their animals. It was here that French filmmaker Eric Valli and Diane Summers captured the portraits of the two herders and hunters, Bhim Bahadur Gurung and Mej Bahadur Gurung in their classic 1988 book Honey Hunters of Nepal which also became a documentary.&nbsp; With outmigration and as trekking took off, some herders converted their buffalo sheds into lodges, and there are now six inns in Kapuche and three in Hugu. Footfalls have also increased because of the 45MW hydropower plant under construction nearby along the headwaters of the Madi River.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240503110556_27f92b4cd1b2925ea89b8d2f949c90d04f8167b1551e694e6946eca023256c41.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240503110556_27f92b4cd1b2925ea89b8d2f949c90d04f8167b1551e694e6946eca023256c41" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="kahphuche"> <figcaption>Dogs are a constant companions during the Sikles-Kapuche trek and lounge on the shores of the lake. The hike is increasingly popular with international trekkers.</figcaption> </figure>  Locals here recall that avalanches used to be more frequent in the past, probably because there was more snow. Boating is prohibited due to the danger of falling ice, but some trekkers bring rafts anyway. The water is ice-cold, still this does not deter adventurous ones to swim out to the middle of the lake to celebrate reaching their destination. The forests are lush due to the heavy rainfall as well as moisture from powder snow avalanches. The thick woods teem with wildlife, and are alive with birdcalls. The Annapurna Conservation Area (ACA) is the largest protected area in Nepal and an Important Bird and Biodiversity Area, as well as a Key Biodiversity Area.&nbsp; ACA has designed a survey form for visitors to monitor avalanches that they may witness. The ACA Management Committee keeps track of the lake's shape and size with the help of citizen scientists Prakash Gurung and Dhan Bahadur Gurung who run lodges on the shore.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240503110556_2cddc5ae01b220e61fc0ee0ff7b5bde4b18b15cb162dce73ce5e20943f0af572.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240503110556_2cddc5ae01b220e61fc0ee0ff7b5bde4b18b15cb162dce73ce5e20943f0af572" data-rendition-name="original" width="2268" height="4032" loading="lazy" alt="kahphuche"> <figcaption>Lush forest trails along the way from Sikles to Kapuche.</figcaption> </figure>  The colour of the lake changes constantly, from crystal blue in winter to green as the snow starts to melt, and turns a turbid grey during the monsoon.&nbsp; Just three hours by car from Pokhara, Sikles is drawing domestic and international visitors to experience its rich Gurung heritage, as well as enjoy the scenery of this relatively less crowded trekking area. Sikles also inspired the concept of sustainable ecotourism for Nepal's conservation areas. The village was awarded UNDP’s Equator Initiative Prize in 2014.&nbsp; After the wilderness trek to Kapuche, Sikles is a good place to immerse in the culture and learn about indigenous conservation practices of the Gurung people.&nbsp; <h2>Kapuche, here we come</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240503100512_90595c777bdc82ba608651241d14abfc9b7ea137e77df5cf617fe2e3f3580bf7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240503100512_90595c777bdc82ba608651241d14abfc9b7ea137e77df5cf617fe2e3f3580bf7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1358" height="712" loading="lazy" alt="kah pu che"> <figcaption>Kapuche Lake in 2015 and April 2024, showing changes in the avalanche fan, icebergs and snow cover on the mountains. </figcaption> </figure>  Nowhere in Nepal is there such an accessible place to observe first-hand the impact of climate breakdown, while also being a popular trekking destination.&nbsp; Kapuche Lake, only an 8-hour hike from Sikles which itself is three hours up by jeep from Pokhara, is the lowest glacial lake in Nepal and offers a vivid demonstration of just how rapidly the Himalayan ice-cap is melting. Selfies and videos posted by visitors on social media platforms in recent years have popularised the trek and lake, bringing ever more domestic and foreign tourists to the site. Most glacial lakes in the Himalaya are at elevations between 4,500-5,500m and need a week of trekking to get to, but Kapuche is located at only 2,450m at the bottom of a deep avalanche funnel directly below Annapurna II.&nbsp; Some scientists say Kapuche cannot even be called a glacial lake because it just collects water from frequent avalanches that thunder down from the vast snowfield at 7,500m between Annapurna II and IV.&nbsp; Most Himalayan lakes are moraine-dammed proglacial lakes, or are supra-glacial ponds that started forming after the Little Ice Age 700 years ago, a natural process that was accelerated by anthropogenic greenhouse gas buildup in the atmosphere after the Industrial Era. Kapuche was only an avalanche fan till a Landsat image in 2001 showed that small ponds had formed in the debris field. Since then, the ponds have merged into a lake that has grown tenfold in size to measure 15 hectares and is now more than 32m deep in some sections. A video posted on YouTube in January 2021 of a massive powder snow avalanche preceded by an air blast that swept down to the lake went viral. Since then, tourists flocked to Kapuche hoping to be lucky enough to take selfies of another avalanche, with some even venturing into the dangerous debris fan on the other side of the lake. So many visitors visit Kapuche now that there are lodges by the shore, as well as some canine guides who came here with trekkers and never went back because they enjoy the fresh mountain air. <h2>How to get there</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240503110552_edcf019d5a8b6551041bbba2de6dad9bb0709048b17c8cdcf41125830395e9b5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240503110552_edcf019d5a8b6551041bbba2de6dad9bb0709048b17c8cdcf41125830395e9b5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1085" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="kahphuche map"> </figure>  - Fly or drive to Pokhara, and take the turnoff to Sikles for a 3 hour ride over a newly paved road. Only the last section after Khilang is still rough.&nbsp; - Spend a night in one of the many lodges in Sikles, and explore this well-preserved Gurung village and birthplace of conservationist Chandra Gurung. - Start scenic hike with spectacular views of Annapurna II and Lamjung Himal. -The trail follows the Madi Khola which drains Kapuche Lake. - A 5 hour walk brings you to Hugu Goth for the night stop at the cattle shed-turned-lodge. &nbsp; - It is a 2 hour hike to Kapuche Lake past construction site of a 25MW hydropower plant.&nbsp; &nbsp;- Camp by the shore or stay in one of the lodges, or hike back to Hugu.&nbsp; &nbsp;- Back to Sikles for ride down to Pokhara. Side trip on return: At Hugu, cross the Madi and climb up to Kori Peak (3,800m) with its high meadows for a magnificent view of Lamjung Himal. Need camping gear. Descend to Sikles. Cost: Rs5,000 per day for meals and room. Foreigners charged $50 for ACA and Trekking Permits. Transport from Kathmandu or Pokhara extra.

Kah Phu Che

For decades, water scarcity, subsistence farming and debt had been driving farmers away from the village of Aathrai in this district of eastern Nepal. The elderly here tell the true story of one lot of people who decades ago were on their seasonal migration down to Jhapa in the plains. In their four-day trek south, they were spending the first night under a tree by the banks of the Tamor River. As night fell, they heard a crowd of people with their livestock, coming down the path. They held flaming torches, talked loudly and their laughter carried across the river. The travellers thought they were seeing ghosts, and watched warily. The people on the opposite side filled their brass jars with water, the cows drank their fill, then they climbed slowly back up the steep path along which they had descended. &nbsp; The migrants watched the torches until they reached the top of the ridge and disappeared into Terathum district. The next morning they found out those were villagers who came down every night with their cattle to collect water because springs up the mountain had gone dry. That is when the people from Terathum realised that their home villages had it much better because the villagers of their district did not have to make nightly water ferry trips up and down the mountain.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240412100444_18f42bb370b81af9e0d8b06c433b77e7e4986dd1aabb3fc8403ff42570051668.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240412100444_18f42bb370b81af9e0d8b06c433b77e7e4986dd1aabb3fc8403ff42570051668" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="795" loading="lazy" alt="people and mountains are thirsty in eastern Nepal"> <figcaption>Photos: GIRIRAJ BANSKOTA</figcaption> </figure>  More, but still not enough Till recently, wards in Chhathar village in Terathum used to have such a severe water shortage that families had to borrow water like they borrowed money. The nearest spring was two hours walk away, and there would already be up to 60 jars in the queue. It was the job of women to fetch water, and they would trudge home with two jars in baskets on their backs and two plastic containers in their hands. “This added to the drudgery of women, would delay the preparation of meals for the family and sending children to school, there was no time to clean the house, the livestock were always thirsty and would give less milk,” explains Tara Kharel Dhakal, deputy chair of Chhathar Rural Municipality.&nbsp; She adds: “There are settlements where water shortage is still acute, but we have managed to pipe drinking water to 90% of the households.” Ward 3 Chair Deuman Limbu agrees that drinking water is less of an issue now, but says lack of water is still affecting dairy and vegetable farming which would have improved nutrition and increased cash income of villagers. Chhathar’s water shortage was alleviated by building a channel from a stream 14km away. There are cliffs along the way where pipes have been laid, but these are often damaged by landslides, wildfires, and maintenance is difficult. In large parts of Nepal, including here in the east, the main reason people &nbsp;migrate out is because of the lack of drinking water. And although most people here remember the water crisis being much more serious in the past, there is still not enough in the dry season. There used to be a tradition in Nepal’s mountains that travellers could get free food and lodging for the night from villagers along the way, and this would be reciprocated when they themselves needed to stop for the night. It was the same with water: those walking along foot trails would be offered water for free since people believed it would earn them merit in heaven.&nbsp; But not in villages like Thoklung today, where travellers know how precious water is, and offer to pay for a drink. Springs are going dry across Nepal’s mid-mountains from east to west, partly due to erratic rainfall caused by the climate crisis but also because of over-extraction. Spring water used to be mainly for household use and the extra water would flow down the mountain, seep into the soil and recharge groundwater. These days, farmers pipe water to their homes from nearby springs to irrigate cash crops like cardamom or vegetables.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240412100444_d9353b6fc297e5b547ac683814801bd57d460f2481be475c60c4f6d7e8f5c8d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240412100444_d9353b6fc297e5b547ac683814801bd57d460f2481be475c60c4f6d7e8f5c8d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="people and mountains are thirsty in eastern Nepal"> </figure>  “New roads drain water away, preventing recharge,” explains watershed expert Madhukar Upadhyay. “Paddy terraces used to store water that slowly seeped into the slopes, but with outmigration there is less rice being planted which in turn has affected the water table.” Read Also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-crisis-drought-food-deficit-migration">Climate crisis → drought → food deficit → migration</a>, Mohan Mainali Power to pump water Necessity is the mother of invention, so desperate villages in eastern Nepal have adopted innovative new ways to ensure water supply. Thirsty families in the parched Kummayak village of Panchthar used to look down longingly at the blue-green waters of the glacier-fed Tamor River. They decided that instead of migrating to the Tarai, they might as well try to pump the water to their village. Nine years ago, they launched a project to dig a well near the river and pump the water up the mountain and distribute drinking water to 2,000 of the 3,200 households in Kummayak. &nbsp; But chronic drought has reduced the dry season flow in the Tamor, and villagers had to divert the river’s channel closer to the well to maintain water supply. The Tamor Drinking Water Pumping Project is now digging another well at a cost of Rs10 million to augment supply.&nbsp; Learning from Kummayak, 11 other projects are planned to pump Tamor water up to mountain villages. Some villages that would have benefited, like Aathrai, have just heard the bad news that the federal government does not have the budget to fund their Rs20 million well and pumping station.&nbsp; Part of the reason there is not enough money is because budgets are also being misused. For example, the central and provincial government are working at cross-purposes and duplicating drinking water schemes. The federal government has a Rs3.5 million pump project in the same place where the Kosi Province has set aside Rs2 million also to lift drinking water. &nbsp;&nbsp; The water shortage is even more severe in Dhankuta district, where in Chaubise village Ward 3, a Rs80 million project is underway to pump water up from a spring down the mountain.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240412100444_d0f87ea50060253998ef932e5c6f30f20912d8733c40014cef4cc8c16e8270ae.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240412100444_d0f87ea50060253998ef932e5c6f30f20912d8733c40014cef4cc8c16e8270ae" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="795" loading="lazy" alt="people and mountains are thirsty in eastern Nepal"> <figcaption>Before lift pumped water was distributed in Syabrumba of Panchthar district, villages had to wait for their quota of water. Today 60% of the household has piped drinking water. Photo: GIRIRAJ BANSKOTA</figcaption> </figure>  All these districts of eastern Nepal have lost more than a third of their population in the past 20 years, and local governments see improved water supply as a way to bring their people back. The population of Thoklung village of Terathum was 40% less in 2021 than what it was in 2001, so its municipality is working on a pumping scheme to lift water from the Tamor to distribute every household in Ward 7. Ward Chair Rohit Kandengwa, however, is worried that the project’s electricity bill would mean that the household water tariff will be too high.&nbsp; Indeed, spring water can flow down to a village by gravity. But pumping water from a river to a ridgetop village can be expensive. The Kummayak project, for example, has an electricity bill of Rs600,000 per month.&nbsp; “Water has value. We charge 10 paisa per litre of water and that could be expensive to those who are used to free water, but it is better than no water at all, and it is cheaper than water from tankers,” says Nirmal Ghimire, chair of Kummayak Ward 5.&nbsp; But there are other non-monetary benefits from water pumps, like in curbing outmigration. For the past two years, no families have migrated out of Kummayak village since it got regular water supply. To be sure, ensuring water supply alone will not stop people since there are other push factors at play: difficulty to access medical care, low quality of public schools, lack of jobs, the government’s low priority for agriculture driving people away from farming. “Farmers here used to sell milk, but they have not been paid for their milk since nine months,” says Chhathar Ward 4 Chair Pushpa Karki. “They cannot sell their goats, middle men fix the price for cardamom and ginger.” The chhurpi and ghee industries have dried up, and dairy farmers have no place to sell milk. It is also a seller’s market, and farmers have to buy everything, without credit, and cannot determine the price of their produce.&nbsp; Lack of connectivity is another reason people migrate from these remote districts. It has been 12 years since construction began on the bridge at Lumughat across the Tamor River that would have linked Terathum and Panchthar, making it easier to take produce to market towns. &nbsp; Better roads would also improve the quality of instruction – the other reason many families move to Dharan or Kathmandu. Accessibility would motivate teachers to stay in villages. There is also a herd mentality that drives migration. If one household moves out, the entire neighbourhood ups and moves. Ten of former school principal Hari Narayan Bhattarai’s neigbours locked up their homes and moved down to the Tarai partly due to lack of water. Bhattarai lost the support of next door families that he used to rely on, so he also moved to Birtamod of Jhapa in the plains. Households in the mountains need each other to survive. Neighbours help neighbours to plough, plant and harvest.&nbsp; And then there is the litany of woes that all Nepalis face: the delays in getting driving licenses, work permits, and other services. People move to where life is easier. &nbsp; Outmigration also makes pre-existing problems of the mountains worse. Where forests are growing out of fallow terrace fields, with no one to forage for dried undergrowth fire risk has increased, crops are damaged by wildlife, and the decline in livestock has reduced soil fertility. &nbsp; “The main reason for outmigration is lack of water and low productivity,” says Chhathar Deputy Chair Dhakal whose village announced grants of up to Rs500,000 to start up agrobusinesses. Thirty families did return. However, there were no takers for Dhakal’s offer of Rs10,000 to households farming their fallow fields again.&nbsp; Even if rural municipalities find the money to install well and pumps for water supply, paying for maintenance or repairs of broken pipes or pumps can be a problem due to lack of budget. Watershed expert Madhukar Upadhyay concedes that pumping water from a river to villages in the mountains is only a short-term fix, but not a sustainable solution. “Over the long-term we must think of reviving traditional system of ponds near springs where water can collect and re-charge groundwater,” he explains. “That way we address the thirst of both the people and the mountains.” &nbsp; This is the second of a 3-part series supported by Barbara Foundation.The third and last instalment will appear on the 26 April edition.&nbsp;

People and mountains are thirsty in eastern Nepal

Rainfall data from eastern Nepal collected over the past 70 years point to a strong <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-waste-land">correlation between chronic drought and outmigration</a>. Repeated and more frequent monsoon failures forced more and more people to abandon villages.&nbsp; Terathum, Dhankuta, Panchthar and Taplejung districts lost more than 40% of their population between 2001 and 2021. Archival data of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that rainfall was below the annual national average for almost every year since the 1960s in what is supposed to be the wettest part of the country.&nbsp; In Panchakanya village of Terathum 40% of residents left in those 20 years. A nearby village, Thoklung, lost 42% of its population. Across the Tamor River, 44% of the people left the village of Kurule. A third of the inhabitants of Symbarumba in Panchthar left for the plains or cities.&nbsp; “People are still leaving. Those who have not migrated are also thinking about going down to Dharan or Damak,” says Chathar Ward 4 Chair Pushpa Karki, who says there were 2,500 votes cast in this ward in 2017 and in the 2022 local election there were only 1,125 ballots.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-climate-crisis-is-a-water-crisis-in-the-himalaya">The climate crisis is a water crisis in the Himalaya</a>, Sonia Awale To be sure, there are other factors behind this exodus which is happening right across Nepal’s mountains, such as a dearth of well-paying jobs, poor health care, and few opportunities for higher education. But the main reason is that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/high-and-dry">droughts</a> destroy crops.&nbsp; “There was a severe drought in the summer of 2018, the maize plants dried in their stalks and turned to straw,” remembers Tara Kharel Dhakal, Deputy Mayor of Chathar in Terathum. “People ran out of food and were desperate. We declared an emergency.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020432_abeec2acd7e0b1986c5a101109365ea57f70e81925fb522a5e2edf191eefbd98.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240406020432_abeec2acd7e0b1986c5a101109365ea57f70e81925fb522a5e2edf191eefbd98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> <figcaption>HIGH AND DRY, LOW AND WET: Parched fields above the Tamor River in Panchakanya village in eastern Nepal in March (above) and irrigated bamboo-fringed terrace farms in Taplejung.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020432_d56cdd7be3761fac279a5add402d766cceef89bf1a535066acd30576e81b8613.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240406020432_d56cdd7be3761fac279a5add402d766cceef89bf1a535066acd30576e81b8613" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Rainfall data for Terathum in 2018 corroborates that there was almost no rain in winter, and to make things worse, the district only saw half of its usual rain that monsoon.&nbsp; The rainfall gauges are located near the tops of mountains, where there is usually more precipitation. So the slopes below likely got even less rain than was recorded.&nbsp; Farmers had no irrigation systems to fall back on. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Recharging-the-mountains,3465#google_vignette">Springs are rare and have gone dry,</a> and the Tamor River is too far down the mountain.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020444_9d23945324a19dfcecf26cafe19a9ac9cc4a11abfde5bde9e4bbbea9c64ca916.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240406020444_9d23945324a19dfcecf26cafe19a9ac9cc4a11abfde5bde9e4bbbea9c64ca916" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> <figcaption>BROWN AND GREEN: Constrasting colours of fields in Terathum between those without irrigation (foreground, above), and with irrigation from a side stream. The glacier-fed Tamor River has plenty of water in the dry season (below) but it is too far down to be pumped up the mountain.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020444_d31629e168b47eb330543f3f3ac992778bccea52fe32446a776580194b143214.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240406020444_d31629e168b47eb330543f3f3ac992778bccea52fe32446a776580194b143214" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1018" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Prevailing wisdom suggests that Nepal is drier the more west you go, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/how-the-climate-crisis-adds-to-child-marriage-in-nepal">the Karnali and Sudur Paschim regions are most drought prone</a>. Outmigration due to water scarcity in Mustang district has emptied villages. But it looks like the climate crisis is causing dry spells even in the usually wet mountains of eastern Nepal.&nbsp; Only a quarter of arable land in Nepal is irrigated, and most of that is in the Tarai. Subsistence farmers in the mountains depend on rain-fed agriculture, so when it does not rain their only option is to migrate for work. Rainfall data from measuring stations over the past 50 years or more across the eastern mountains shows that winter rain and monsoon failures have become more frequent.&nbsp; y nly 80% of the normal annual rain fell in 2018 in Mulghat, and the corn and buckwheat harvests were reduced in nearby Kurule. The local government gave cash handouts to farmers, but this did not convince people to stay. <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="Tamor river discharge at Mulghat" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-8t8ts" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/8t8ts/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="396" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> In an average year, Jhapa and Ilam in the east get about 3,300mm of rain. Kathmandu Valley sees about 1,400mm, and Darchula in the far-west receives 700mm. The least precipitation is in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/mustang-forced-to-adapt-to-climate-crisis">Mustang</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/climate-change-is-a-disaster-in-the-nepal-himalaya">Dolpo in the trans-Himalayan rainshadow</a>, although even these districts have seen some freak rainfall of late.&nbsp; Even though the total annual precipitation may still be the same, often the quality of rain is different: there are damaging torrential downpours and then weeks of no rain at all.&nbsp; Watershed expert Madhukar Upadhya describes eastern Nepal’s micro-climates, where wide variations exist even within small geographical areas: “The clouds tend to drop most of their moisture on the southern slopes of the Mahabharat Range, so there is less rain on the other side.”&nbsp; Dharan, for instance, gets 1,700mm of rain, but 15km to the north in Mulghat, the annual precipitation is half that.&nbsp; Elderly farmers can recite from memory the years in which rains have failed: 1961, 1965, 1972, 1975, 1982, 1994. Their recollections tally with archival precipitation data for the region. For example, there was a downpour that dumped 385mm of rain on 23-24 June 1961, but for the next two months there was only 180mm. “I was young in 1961 and there was always either too much rain or too little, the fields were fallow and we had no food,” remembers Dikura Devi Thapaliya in Terathum. “Only those who had springs and could irrigate their fields had harvests that year.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/first-drought-then-downpour">First drought, then downpour</a>, Smita Magar Four years later, there was another drought that caused a famine, forcing families to forage for wild roots. In Iwa, the town council asked households that had extra grain to sell it to neighbours, but no one was willing. The villagers did not have food for the 10-day trek down to Dharan to collect government rations, so food was air dropped by the state.&nbsp; Even worse was the nationwide drought of 1972, when the British Royal Air Force helped Nepal with Hercules aircraft to drop grain by parachute in what it called Operation Khana Cascade. Some 52 tons were dropped on Taplejung and Terathum alone.&nbsp; This was the Panchayat era, and even the usually-understated government controlled news agency, RSS, filed a report from eastern Nepal about the terrible conditions: ‘The harvest of corn and buckwheat has failed in villages around Dhankuta. Rice harvests are one-third of normal. There is starvation in Terathum. Many have migrated to the Tarai or elsewhere, or are working as coolies along the Dharan-Dhankuta road.’ <div class="embed-block"><iframe title="The Rain in Dhankuta" aria-label="Interactive line chart" id="datawrapper-chart-gKSl5" src="https://datawrapper.dwcdn.net/gKSl5/2/" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="width: 0; min-width: 100% !important; border: none;" height="423" data-external="1"></iframe><script type="text/javascript">!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var e=document.querySelectorAll("iframe");for(var t in a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var r=0;r<e.length;r++)if(e[r].contentWindow===a.source){var i=a.data["datawrapper-height"][t]+"px";e[r].style.height=i}}}))}(); </script></div> The next serious drought was in 1982, with Terathum getting a record low of only 254mm of rain – only 38% of normal monsoon precipitation.&nbsp; The Tamor had never been so dry before that, nor has it since. Hydrological data acquired by Nepali Times show that in September 1982 river flow was only 15% of mean for that month. Ninety percent of the maize crop in the east was destroyed, paddy wilted before it could be transplanted. The rice terraces were barren.&nbsp; Nepal’s two neighbours donated grain so that villagers would not starve. More than 2,500 farmers from Terathum made the four-day trek down to Dhankuta to collect 100kg sacks of wheat from India, or maize from China. Even the desert kingdom of Saudi Arabia donated 5,000 tons of rice and 2,500 tons of wheat.&nbsp; Not much has changed in the villages of Terathum and along the banks of the Tamor since – except that there are fewer people. Farmers who remain still depend on timely and adequate rain to keep their soil watered.&nbsp; “If the gods send rain, we get to eat. Otherwise we starve,” Naramaya Tamang in Terathum puts it simply. Her farm grows enough food to feed the family for only half the year.&nbsp; Those who have property have sold it to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">move to the plains</a>. The government has stopped food aid, citing new roads and letting market forces ensure supply. However, there are many like Naramaya who have fallen through the social safety net. The other thing that has changed in these mountains is that people are migrating not just to the plains, but overseas to the Gulf or Malaysia. The villages on both sides of the Tamor River are devoid of young men, and increasingly, young women. Every family has a member abroad. It is the money they send back that helps the elderly relatives survive.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240406020436_9619e4536523960ebe2edf86de43c389ba054b3dd32c5752e5bcc7d9fac9d83f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20240406020436_9619e4536523960ebe2edf86de43c389ba054b3dd32c5752e5bcc7d9fac9d83f" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="713" loading="lazy" alt="Climate → crisis → drought → food → deficit → migration"> </figure>  Over the last 20 years, Panchthar saw the second highest number of permits to work overseas in proportion to the district’s population. Terathum ranks third on this metric and Dhankuta is sixth. The adjoining district to the west, Khotang, is number one.&nbsp; Dhanusha in the Tarai has the highest numbers of people migrating out, but most of those workers return. Here in Dhankuta, Terathum, Panchthar and Taplejung, when young people leave, most leave for good.&nbsp; The main result of the climate breakdown is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/grain-drain">lack of water</a>. Deficient rain and springs going dry are the main reasons why farmers are migrating, explains the Chair of Ward 3 of Chaubise village, Madan Tumsa.&nbsp; He says: “These are climate migrants. The soil is too dry to farm, and there is nothing to eat. People are not leaving to earn more, up to 80% are leaving because they cannot grow food due to the lack of water.”&nbsp; Research for this three-part series was supported by the Barbara Foundation. This is the first of a three-part series in Nepali Times analysing meteorological, hydrological and demographic data from eastern Nepal, showing the impact of the climate crisis on rainfall, farming and outmigration. The second and third installments will appear on 12 and 26 April respectively.

Climate crisis → drought → food deficit → migration

Frontpage topic

In this episode of my series Angrezi, let me share two other interesting encounters I had with English before diving into Ryan’s story. The saga of my own English learning experience.
My uncle decided to open an English medium school in Madhesa of Sunsari district, which was the first of its kind in our village. The school was named Bright Future English School, and caused quite a stir even before it officially opened.
People were intrigued by the word ‘Future’, and the meaning of ‘Bright’ eluded them. One morning, while sipping tea at Bahadurni Thuli Ama’s tea shop, my uncle’s friends could not contain their curiosity any longer, and asked him the meaning of ‘Bright’.
Instead of giving a direct answer, my uncle gave them a clue by asking why the toothpaste brand at the time, ‘Brighter’ was so named. Suddenly, it all made sense to them, including the significance of ‘a bright future’.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/why-do-so-many-nepali-students-underperform">Why do so many Nepali students underperform?</a>, Anita Shrestha
The next incident still gives me a good laugh whenever I remember it. Not far from our village was another English medium school called The Martyr School. We youngsters used to jokingly refer to it as “Damatar, Tamatar”. It was only much later that I finally understood the meaning of ‘martyr’.
The recent Hindi movie 12th Fail tells the true story of Manoj Kumar Sharma, who passed India’s UPSC (like Nepal’s own Public Service Commission) exam and eventually became a police officer on his fourth attempt. There is a scene in the movie where he confidently writes an essay about terrorism from memory during the English exam, only to find out later that the question was actually about tourism.
I can perfectly relate to that feeling. During one exam I remember composing an answer about ‘The Mothers of Nepal’ when the question was actually asking us to write about ‘The Martyrs of Nepal’. Embarrassing.
Now, the story of Ryan. In Grade 9, our English teacher told us the sad story of Ryan who said bye to his mother and hopped on a motorcycle even though he was underage and did not have a driving license. The mother knew this, and told him to drive safely. &nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/learning-rubbish-memorising-gibberish">Learning rubbish, memorising gibberish</a>, Yugottam Koirala and Yugeshwor Koirala
A few hours later, she got a call from the police. Ryan had been in an accident. She rushed to the hospital, but Ryan did not make it. After his tragic death, the mother felt immense regret and blamed herself for not stopping him. She constantly thinks about him, imagining that one day he will step in through the door with a cheerful “Hi, Mom!”
The moral of the story: do not drive without a license. Our English teacher narrated the story in Nepali, and to add a touch of humour, he changed Ryan’s name to Ram Bahadur. I can still vividly recall him narrating to the class: "उस्कै आमालाई लागि रहन्छ कि राम बाहादुर घर आउँछ हाई मोम, म आएँ भन्दै” (His &nbsp;mother felt Ryan would come back, saying “Hi Mom, I’m home”).
But when he said “Hi” he did not pronounce it /haɪ/, he said it like “hee”. And guess what? Thenceforth we all copied the way he said “hee” when he meant “hi”, repeating “हि मोम, म घर आएँ”.&nbsp;
Back in school, we never greeted our friends, so I did not use the word “Hi” to greet friends till college. If only we had the same chapter in Grade 10, then Thoo Sir would have taught us properly. I finally learned the correct pronunciation, but it did bring some embarrassment.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-hard-working-students-overseas">Nepal’s hard working students overseas</a>, Sonia Awale
I enrolled at Janata Multiple College in Itahari for Proficiency Certificate Level, with English as one of my majors. Being the last student to join, I was new to everyone. As a major in English, when people approached me, they naturally said “Hi, I am phalano” or “Hi, I am dhiskano”. I reciprocated in the same manner. The only difference was in how they pronounced “Hi” and my response was always “Hee, I am Anbika”. I did not understand why they would always giggle when I said that.
A new friend of mine tried to correct me, but out of habit I continued with my “Hee” until our first-year English major teacher, Kedar Sir, overheard me one day in class saying, “Hee, I am Anbika”. He corrected me in front of the entire class. “Anbika, it is /haɪ/, हि भन्न कल्ले सिकायो?” (Who taught you to say Hee?) he exclaimed so loudly that even students dozing off at the back woke up.
To be honest, it had never occurred to me that even teachers could make mistakes till that moment. I was a little embarrassed. The embarrassment was manageable, but it led me to a state of utter confusion. Suddenly, I began doubting every English pronunciation I had ever learnt in school till then from teachers I had admired. I assumed that Kedar Sir, being an English major teacher at college, must have a stronger command of the language than my high school teacher. Thus, I decided to follow Kedar Sir to unlearn what I learnt in school.
That day, I did not tell Kedar Sir where I got the funny pronunciation from. I later discovered that all my friends had some issues with English since we all came from the same school background where English was taught in Nepali.
Back in the early 2000s, English was not as important as it is today. It did not open up job opportunities, or help navigate work abroad. People who tried to sprinkle English words while speaking Nepali were regarded as show-offs. Twenty years later, English proficiency is given much more importance and we have come a long way. &nbsp;
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Her previous columns were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/mai-commin-sir-qfdjg2uw">Mai Commin, Sir</a> and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/the-thappad">Thappad</a>.&nbsp;

Hi-Hee and Haha-Hihi

Nepal and India are both Hindu-majority countries, but there is a difference between the Hindutva nationalism playing out in India’s ongoing elections and the Hindu faith as practiced in Nepal.
Most Nepalis are too busy trying to get by in hard economic times to be too engrossed with elections across the border. Some do harbour strong views about Narendra Modi’s brand of Hindu revivalism, and the RPP in particular seems to want to imitate the BJP’s ability to set a national Hindutva narrative.
Still, a majority of Nepalis look at Narendra Modi with something between indifference and fondness. The Indian Prime Minister has visited Nepal five times since he was first elected in 2014, and many here still remember his address to Parliament which he began in Nepali during his first state visit to Kathmandu.
There is a section in Nepal that supports a non-secular Hindu state, and Nepalis have noticed that every time Modi comes to Nepal he makes it a point to visit Hindu and Buddhist sacred sites. But in contrast to his BJP’s Hindu exclusionist policies in India, Nepal has traditionally enjoyed a syncretic blend of Hindu and Buddhist traditions.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/the-south-wind-blows">The south wind blows</a>, Chandra Kishore
For most Nepalis, therefore, the affinity for BJP and Modi could be characterised as cultural rather than political. Most Nepalis still have memories of the hardships they suffered during the 6-month blockade that New Delhi imposed just after the 2015 earthquake because it did not like the contours of Nepal’s new draft Constitution.
The poor showing of the Hindu-monarchist Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) in last month’s by-elections in Ilam and Bajhang shows that at least in the mountains, Nepalis are not so impressed with the polarised electoral politics on display in India. Interestingly, Bajhang is close to the Indian state of Uttarakhand which has declared itself to be a Hindu-only ‘Devbhumi’ and with which it has close cross-border cultural ties.
Although factions of the other four main parties in Parliament, the NC, UML, Maoist-Centre and the RSP, do flirt with the Hindu-monarchy line from time to time, there is not much public support for it yet and none of the four largest parties in Parliament has officially voiced its support for such an agenda.
When (and if) Modi does win a third term in India’s elections there could inevitably be ripple effects in Nepal — especially if the BJP’s mentors in the Rastriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) adopt an even more radical agenda, abolish secularism from the Indian Constitution, or push the Greater India idea of ‘Akhanda Bharat’.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/india-s-faith-in-politics">India’s faith in politics</a>, Shrijan Pandey
Even so, rousing radical religious passions will not be as easy in Nepal, which is South Asia’s oldest nation-state and does not carry with it the historical baggage of Partition. Nepal’s Muslim minority which forms 5% of the population has for the most part lived in harmony with Hindus and Buddhists, although there are politically-instigated local flare-ups from time to time mainly along the southern border.&nbsp;
Though Nepal’s Hindu population is more than 80% (2021 census), Nepal as a whole is a country of minorities. The Hill-Brahmin and Chhetri may dominate the political and economic spheres, but they form less than 30% of the population. Nepal’s ethnic and indigenous groups have been asserting themselves, as seen in the recent Ilam by-election, where the UML’s Suhang Nembang comfortably beat the NC’s Dambar Bahadur Khadka by close to 6,000 votes. However, an independent candidate, Dakendra Singh Limbu, with no political affiliation, but who campaigned on a platform of assertive Limbu identity, made a strong showing, finishing third with 11,457 votes.
Such identity politics is more a response to ethnic exclusion and a demand for regional autonomy than pushing a religious agenda. Indeed, Nepal’s political parties have so far desisted from mixing religion with politics, even though some individual leaders in the parties sometimes seem to appear to be sorely tempted.
Nepal’s next general election is more than three years away, and India-style Hindutva politics could still be whipped up. For now, it seems more likely that it will be Nepali nationalism that will be a more potent vote-mobiliser.
This already seems to be happening, with the government minting Nepal’s new 100-rupee note that depicts the country’s ‘pointy map’ (‘chuchhe naxa’) showing a 350-sq km strip of territory in its northwestern tip which is also claimed by India.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/borderlines/crimson-saffron-and-green">Crimson, saffron and green</a>, Chandra Kishore
Akhilesh Upadhyay is former Editor-in-Chief of The Kathmandu Post and a Senior Fellow at the think tank, IIDS.

Southerly winds

The climate crisis is upon us today, whether we like to believe it or not. It is going to destroy much of what humanity has built in the last few hundred years, as well as the biodiversity that nature has bestowed on the planet. It is going to wash away our livelihoods in our lifetime.
Freedom of expression and democracy are the most important adaptation mechanisms to climate breakdown. If we cannot freely express our views and elect leaders, we will continue to build the wrong dam, the wrong roads, the wrong embankments in the wrong place, at the wrong price.
&nbsp;We already see bridges bridging nothing. Roads to nowhere. Airports not used, and vanity projects of politicians all built through our debt. This is because we are unable to speak out, because we do not have a say in what our governments do.
We take loans to build a bridge, a house, a school and bad weather destroys them. But the debt remains and we have to pay back the money without receiving the benefits from the loans we took.
The amount of money flowing out of our countries will amount to $900 billion in the next two years, mainly for debt servicing and repayments. Many climate vulnerable countries are in debt distress, and more than 15 will go into default this year. These countries have lost 20% of their GDP because of extreme weather events.
The environment, therefore, is no more a dispatch from environment correspondents. It is a major financial story. The impact extreme weather due to climate change has on the economy is tremendous.
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I now work for the Climate Vulnerable Forum (CVF), an intergovernmental organisation of 68 countries established in 2009 initially with nine countries including Nepal. I quit as the Speaker of the Maldives Parliament last year to set up the secretariat in Accra in Ghana.
Among other things, the CVF develops what we call Climate Prosperity Plans which are low carbon development strategies that would give the same outcomes of GDP growth of high employment and low inflation, but without damaging the planet.
To become resilient you must be prosperous. Being poor makes you less resilient, reduces your choices. So we are looking at new methods of farming, irrigation, harvesting, fertilisers, transport, and building cities and homes.
I have been attending COPs for nearly 30 years. We have been talking about Loss and Damage by using the ethical human rights argument of climate justice. But I do not think anyone ever listened, and nothing much has come out of the last 28 COPs. They are just talking shops.&nbsp;
The CVF wants to find solutions to the climate crisis, and one of the things we do is advise member countries on debt.
Sri Lanka is going into the IMF’s ‘Debt Sustainability Analysis’ program for the 17th time and Bangladesh for 24th. Year after year, the IMF bails them out on condition that they increase taxes, fire half the civil servants and reduce spending. These austerity prescriptions are not our way out of the debt, we cannot do so by suppressing growth.
More and more countries now want debt-for-nature swaps wherein those who want to protect the environment are willing to guarantee the new bond which asks the government to do more on specific environmental issues such that there is a conservation agent with, for instance, a forest management plan. The money is paid per usual, but you are also protecting nature while doing it.
We also encourage countries to do carbon exchanges. Most of the forests are in climate vulnerable countries today, capturing most of the carbon the world is emitting. At the same time, if we do not have forests, our very survival will be jeopardised. But we need money to look after our forests and our natural assets. Carbon exchange, therefore, can also be a mechanism to finance development.
Simply because industrialised countries have taken us to the brink, we cannot do the same. If we do, it is going to be the end of us all. We must find sustainable development paths that will also deliver prosperity.
People in the Maldives perhaps feel I have abandoned them. But to save the Maldives, I had to leave it. The Maldives cannot be saved unless the planet is saved. We had to do something else so that island nations and climate vulnerable countries have a better chance.&nbsp;
This is an excerpt of the keynote address by Mohamed Nasheed, the former president of the Maldives, an ex-journalist and a climate campaigner, at the Himal Media Mela 2024 on World Press Freedom Day on 3 May. He is now the Secretary-General of the Climate Vulnerable Forum. Watch his complete speech on our YouTube channel.
Mohamed Nasheed

Climate, Democracy and Media

The sound of the wind rushing through the trees as they brush and slide against the foliage, swooshing like a mountain river gently flowing downstream. Not one of those deep gorges but the shallow kinds, where the water hurries over the rocks, shaping them with millions of years of washing. That’s the white noise I discovered recently on Youtube: The wind in the trees. Depending on the force of wind, the sound changes, ranging from a gentle stream to that of a fierce river-- like nature imitating nature. Trees will always mean a million things to me, but recently, they’ve also become synonymous to Janice Pariat. I met Janice through her book: Everything the Light Touches. And I fell in love. The book is the Spring shade of green, letters written on a fern pressed to it. It’s a big, thick book and so makes it a good one to press to your bosom. I was interviewing Janice for the Nepal Literature Festival in Pokhara in February and so I read the book diligently, the way one does for duty and not for pleasure. I took two days off work to finish reading it, pinned to the nervousness of being singularly engaged in something nice. The book took me on a long journey though Northeastern India and Europe, as I joined each of Janice’s characters’ pursuits. The novel is a palindrome-- it progresses from the story of Shai and crescendos to that of Carl Linneaus’, where it becomes a book of poems. And then it traces each character back again, just as it had started out bringing one home to Shai’s story. And by the time we arrive at the last chapter, we’ve read four novels inside one. Each chapter has a different voice, making it an entirely different novel in itself, as the characters embark on journeys of self-discovery, in the guise of the pursuit of nature. Each of Janice’s characters is an outlier and each, in search of something. But they all converge in nature in their respective ways. The novel weaves itself around some really important and relevant topics: of colonialism, post-colonialism, indigeneity, identity, returning to one’s roots, taking only what one needs, and giving back to nature, all of them making us think about the causes of climate change and greed and also goodness. When I met Janice, one of the things I asked her was how she had written the book. And she did say that it felt sometimes like the book had written itself, even though it had taken her a decade to finish it. During the festival, when Janice read the prologue, which I like to call the invocation to storytelling, the audience watched enthralled. They leaned their hearts in to listen. she read it like a song. She speaks in singing, almost representative of the book-- tender and firm, supple like the leaves when sprouting, sturdy like the trunks that hold the promise of years. I offered Janice a book review, but how does one review a book one likes, except hold it and read it again? And like a sign, another green book found me: Twelve Trees by Daniel Lewis, steeped in dendrology, but also packed with anecdotes on anthropology and taxonomy, supported by illustrations. The book is a revelation: trees converse with other trees, have best friends, nurture one another, are the reason butterflies sometimes get caught in amber. Most importantly, trees are the outstanding stories of survival: “Survival takes many shapes. Occasionally, it involves standing your ground. Sometimes it means returning home. At other times, it requires leaving altogether”. Trees carry memory, even after they have been felled, and their rings bear history. Stories of survival are holding up each tree we see around us-- how they navigated the wrath of nature and the stupidity of human kind. Lewis says, scientists are driven not only by intellectual pursuits but also by astonishment… and that line came back to me last month when I stood under a tree in the heart of Ranibari and stared at an ancient tree, perhaps as Janice’s Goethe might have done at some point?  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240505120528_52aa2f881a9b0d2a56d1d998580369f4b27a96bc1ad4a9ce02183d27c9099345.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240505120528_52aa2f881a9b0d2a56d1d998580369f4b27a96bc1ad4a9ce02183d27c9099345" data-rendition-name="original" width="1204" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="trees"> <figcaption>Photo: NIRANJAN KUNWAR</figcaption> </figure>  My friend Nir, a dendrophile himself, watched me marvel at the tree-- it stands taller than any tree I’ve met in Kathmandu yet. And it stands there silently, nestling secrets for years, home to many “ghosts residents”, who burrow holes into its trunks and hide between the branches and leaves. “Go offer water to the Peepul tree and sit under its shade every Saturday,” the priest said, singing off a prescription of forest bath, also repeated by doctors and psychiatrists. And so I go. Seeking. Trees are so much, they’re myths, each drawing stories to itself and sometimes, lending its name to a place, sometimes to persons, sometimes to entire eras. For instance, the old name for the village I live in, is Chapli, a Newa name for an old tree that did not survive human folly. Now, other trees remain. Two outside my window, go through the cycle of life in their entirety every year. They become scrawny trunks and branches in Winter and come back in full force in Spring. I watch them from my window like my life depends upon them.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240505120532_24a3529f04c1a0ec9ffa21e6548a2fd3c0c9c1a43ad763749a00ac332f73be9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240505120532_24a3529f04c1a0ec9ffa21e6548a2fd3c0c9c1a43ad763749a00ac332f73be9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Trees"> <figcaption>Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Lewis says: Just as humans stretch and wrinkle and sag with age, trees do, too. And so I imagine these trees are my sisters, aging alongside me, their branches like tresses blowing in the wind some days, and sometimes, weather-beaten and cold, their branches weighing down like sagging breasts. But today, they’re lush green, swaying in the breeze and waiting for the rain. For trees carry the memory of rainfall.

Trees, trees

Banks are exposed to a complex risk environment because of the climate crisis the world over. With their diverse asset class portfolios across multiple sectors, banks are vulnerable to new risks involving loan portfolios, investments, and business operations.&nbsp;
Banks need proactive approaches to plan transitions to a more resilient and sustainable future, while analysing the immediate effects of climate disasters. Developing appropriate methods to manage these risks while trying to remain competitive should be the priority of all banks.
Banks in Nepal face both transitional and physical risks because of the impact of climate change. &nbsp;They must evaluate how these hazards may interact and intensify, since the risk factors are interrelated.
The direct impact of climate breakdown on a bank’s assets and operations are referred to as physical risk, which are the tangible, real-world effects of severe weather, increasing sea levels, temperature fluctuations, and other climate-related phenomena.&nbsp;
One example of these risks is the possibility of property damage from extreme weather events, floods or wildfires, which can destroy buildings, infrastructure, and businesses. Disruptions in the supply chain can also result in the scarcity of products and services, which is another kind of physical risk.&nbsp;
Physical risks can be acute or chronic. Event-driven risks such as typhoons and floods can be called acute risks, whereas the long-term shift in climate patterns are chronic physical risks.
Transitional risks, on the other hand, would be the financial burden associated with the shift to a low-carbon economy with concurrent changes in consumer behaviour, market sentiment, regulatory changes, and technical breakthroughs. New policies by governments and regulatory agencies to address climate change, carbon pricing, or tighter environmental standards can impact the economy and the banking sector.
A few commonly used frameworks to reduce the climate risk of banks are:
· Task Force on Climate-related Financial Disclosures (TCFD) which was articulated by the Switzerland-based Financial Stability Board in 2015. In 2017, TCFD released a report with 11 voluntary recommendations for disclosing climate-related financial risks and opportunities. It is made up of four pillars: governance, strategy, risk management, and metrics and targets.&nbsp;
· &nbsp;Principles for Responsible Banking (PRB) were developed by the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP) Finance Initiative. PRBs have been signed by over 300 banks from 60 countries since 2019 and are based on six guiding principles: Alignment, Impact and Target Setting, Clients and Customers, Stakeholders, Governance and Culture, Transparency and Accountability. PRBs aim to align the banking sector with the Paris Agreement and SDGs.&nbsp;
· Equator Principles (EP) are a voluntary risk management framework developed by the International Finance Corporation (IFC). Financial institutions adopt 10 EPs to determine, assess, and manage environmental and social risk in project finance transactions. Financial Institutions that adopt the Equator Principles commit to implementing them in their internal environmental and social policies, procedures, and standards for financing projects as well as to restrict new finance or corporate loans to projects where the client is unable to comply with the principles.
· The Carbon Pricing Leadership Coalition (CPLC) was developed by the World Bank as a voluntary initiative that brings together leaders from governments, business, civil society, and academia to enhance global understanding of carbon pricing as a tool for accelerating and financing effective climate action.
· &nbsp;Climate Resilience Principles (CRP) were developed by the Climate Bonds Initiative to integrate the criteria for climate adaptation and resilience into the climate bond standard. CRP guides financial institutions and other stakeholders on the potential range and type of climate resilience investments, ways to define and assess physical risks, and approaches to demonstrate climate resilience outcomes credibly.&nbsp;
· The Joint Impact Model (JIM) as a useful tool to navigate challenges in reduction in carbon footprints. By the quantification of emissions linked to their loan portfolios, institutions can obtain vital insights into their climate effect and pinpoint opportunities for finding ways to be supportive of the circular economy.
Banks can also employ technical and financial tools to minimise both physical and transitional risks and these can help quantify potential impacts, allowing informed decision-making and risk management using Climate Scenario and Extreme Event Analysis. Geospatial Risk Mapping can be used to assess hazardous zones. Hydrodynamic modeling is a tool to simulate effects of flooding. Carbon Footprint Calculations can help banks assess lending portfolios.
Testing can be conducted to evaluate the impact of a transition to a low-carbon economy on the bank’s financial performance, considering changes in market dynamics, asset values, and investment returns. Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) factors can be included into financial models to evaluate the long-term sustainability.&nbsp;
Financial modeling adopted by banks for climate risk mitigation is diverse, encompassing various aspects of physical risks and Transition Risk. Data Collection and assessment of historical weather patterns, and projections for property location, exposure to flood zones, and susceptibility to extreme weather events can help banks identify potential physical risks.&nbsp;
Scenario Analyses can be developed to simulate various climate change scenarios and their potential impacts on assets and borrowers. Insurance and Risk Transfer Instruments can be used to explore the use of insurance products and risk transfer instruments to mitigate the financial impact of climate-related physical risks. Sustainable Finance Product Modeling helps the bank to develop financial models for sustainable finance products, such as green bonds or sustainable loans, to assess their risk-return profiles and market viability.&nbsp;
Nepal’s banking industry faces challenges to safeguard credit portfolios. Banks should adopt a consensus approach to navigate transition and physical risks. Nepal’s banks are already seeing climate impacts on their loan portfolios.
Agriculture
Farms are affected by erratic rains. Floods destroy infrastructure and crops, lowering productivity and impacting the ability of borrowers to repay loans. The Kosi Flood in 2008 was one of the most destructive. In the past decade alone, some 300,000 hectares of farmland have been lost to floods. Last year, 325,258 &nbsp;tons of harvested paddy worth Rs 8.26 billion were destroyed.&nbsp;
Banks must support smart irrigation systems that enable farmers to modify watering schedules based on real-time meteorological data to help conserve water and reduce the effects of shifting precipitation patterns and glacial melt.
EVs
Electric vehicles are becoming more popular among consumers. Banks need to adjust financing in response to this spike in demand for EVs and providing loans for charging stations. In the first 11 months of the fiscal year 2022–2023, EV imports totalled 3,070 valued at Rs 11.23 billion, a 122% increase over the same period in the previous fiscal year. AT this rate, EVs will fully replace petrol cars.
Hydropower
Change in hydrology of rivers, reduced water availability during dry seasons and changes in precipitation patterns can all have an immediate effect on hydroelectric plants. The increase in the frequency and severity of extreme weather have damaged hydropower schemes. Floods on 16-17 June 2023, in eastern Nepal damaged 30 hydropower facilities with a combined capacity of 463 MW. The hydropower sector is also exposed to transition risks, including carbon pricing, emissions limits, and renewable energy generation.
Manufacturing&nbsp;
Changes in regulatory policies, such as carbon pricing, emissions limits, and renewable energy mandates, that aim to address climate change may also result in greater compliance and operational costs for manufacturing firms. If clean energy and sustainable manufacturing practices render conventional manufacturing methods less competitive or obsolete, adoption and investment in new technologies and processes may become imperative. Infrastructure related to manufacturing projects could also be physically damaged by storms, floods, and other natural disasters, as well as it could have a serious impact due to severe weather patterns.&nbsp;
As a first step toward mitigation, banks should thoroughly assess the climate risk associated with manufacturing projects and their clients. Banks should also provide financing and investment products that are specifically designed to support climate-resilient and sustainable manufacturing practices. Examples include green loans, which can be combined with advisory services, technical assistance, and capacity building project support to assist clients in identifying, evaluating, and putting into practice strategies for waste management, water conservation, renewable energy integration, and energy efficiency.
Govind Ghimire is the Deputy CEO of NMB Bank.&nbsp;

Changing climate for investment in Nepal

Nepali Times #1211 (10-16 May 2024)

The Goan Food Festival is a delicious experience, where seafood meets spices and in which Portuguese influence is ever-present.&nbsp; The second episode of the Goan season is happening 10-12 May at Aloft's in-house restaurant Nook in Thamel and features Chef Rhea Aaron, who owns and runs the Goan restaurant Klaa Kitchen in Bengaluru.&nbsp; The decor in the lobby already has an ambience that takes us straight down to this Portuguese enclave in the west coast of India. There is a boat with a fishing net filled with the tropical trio of pineapple, coconut and bananas. Seafood and coconut are ubiquitous in the menu during this culinary extravaganza.&nbsp; “While there are certainly some nice vegetarian dishes, Goans love meat,” says Chef Aaron, who is making her way through the dining room passing out rissois, which are deep-fried bite-sized turnovers that are also popular in Portugal.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240509120520_c1bc5158932b7db6eb52f084fffd208433fec3120f1a4526471632360e2929e1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240509120520_c1bc5158932b7db6eb52f084fffd208433fec3120f1a4526471632360e2929e1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2292" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From Goa to Thamel Page 9 NT #1211"> </figure>  Goa was a colony of Portugal from 1505 to 1961 at a time when that sea-faring European nation preceded the Dutch, Spaniards, French and British in colonial conquest because of their mastery over maritime maps. (Remember Vasco de Gama?) Rissois have a crunchy exterior and are filled with either prawn or mushroom and served with balchao dip which is made from tamarind, tomatoes, and chilies.&nbsp; Accompanying them is a drink made from kokum and litchi. Kokum is a sour plant native to Goa, and surrounding states and is often used instead of lemon. The drink is sour and sweet and vaguely similar to a Newa pau.&nbsp; A grill has been set up outside on the balcony. Diners can choose from a number of seafood options, including mackerel, pomfret, and trout. Or there is snapper, lobster, prawns, and squid, all shipped into landlocked Nepal in refrigerated trucks. The seafood are all marinated in either a red or green curry. Aloft Executive Chef Rajeev Shrestha will take over the festival for the weekend of 10 May and explains that the red marinade is called ‘recheado’ and gets its color from peppers and kashmiri chilli. The green masala is known as ‘cafreal’ and is made from green chilies and coriander leaves.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240509120520_5ad6b2db25bbe22caef1b5cbb8b6399a819f348b3b35087026723dcb75c61357.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240509120520_5ad6b2db25bbe22caef1b5cbb8b6399a819f348b3b35087026723dcb75c61357" data-rendition-name="original" width="2300" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="From Goa to Thamel Page 9 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Chefs Rhea Aaron (left) and Rajeev Shrestha (right)</figcaption> </figure>  To the left of the grill is a station that serves omelettes and pav, an Indian bread roll, with a spicy gravy. This is a ‘ross omelette’ that Goans love for breakfast. By now our plates are heaped with fish, lobster, squid and prawns.&nbsp; The lobster is a little hard to get out of its shell but is well worth the effort. The squid has a chewy texture that transcends taste, and the prawns and snapper spring to life with lemon and tartar sauce. While it is tempting to go back and place a second order there is a whole buffett left. Three out of the six salads have meat: a chicken confit, a smoked trout, and a minced lamb.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240509120520_10875dca77ec95e3191feaa974b125a3bcf2e30178c6119d0af71ef6fe0568fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240509120520_10875dca77ec95e3191feaa974b125a3bcf2e30178c6119d0af71ef6fe0568fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1495" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From Goa to Thamel Page 9 NT #1211"> </figure>  Of the vegetarian salads two stood out. One was a compressed watermelon and goat cheese concoction, and the other was a simpler grated carrot relish that Goans have with every meal. There were also two soups, a Portuguese spinach and chickpea soup, and a fish soup also of Iberian origin. &nbsp; The dishes that made up the buffet included some familiar ones, like dal. There is also a Portuguese influence, such as in the chorizo pulao.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240509120520_2007b847800b5a62c5f360f775d33db32766941d65586503cdef458db1f507b9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240509120520_2007b847800b5a62c5f360f775d33db32766941d65586503cdef458db1f507b9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1442" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="From Goa to Thamel Page 9 NT #1211"> </figure>  The dishes are served in large solid pots keeping warm on induction stoves and hot to the touch, adding to the experience as it is upon the diner to uncover the dish with great care.&nbsp; One dish that stands out is a creamy potato with coconut and onion. It is a great combination of flavours. The Chorizo pulao is smoky and works well. There are also chicken dishes that have been cooked in similar ingredients to the marinades from earlier.&nbsp; With all the marinade and now this hands-on crab, things can get a bit messy so an extra napkin can be handy. &nbsp; The desserts fit the theme: a Pasteis de Nata, a Portuguese custard tart, and a Serradura, a Portuguese ‘sawdust’ pudding like a parfait, and a coconut strawberry Bavarian cake.

From Goa to Thamel

When one thinks about South Indian food in Kathmandu, the image that comes to mind is the usual vegetarian fare: dosa, idli, vada served with sambhar and coconut chutney. But what if we told you that even non-vegetarians can get their fill of South Indian chicken, mutton or fish dishes? Named after the Arabian Sea coast region of Kerala, Malabar Groove on the ground floor of Chhaya Centre in the heart of Thamel is serving this South Indian cuisine known for its rich and unique flavours.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240403080424_1f45a52bc7256c33d03fbd3109734384b572650b8949cdf530d32fde058bbdf8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240403080424_1f45a52bc7256c33d03fbd3109734384b572650b8949cdf530d32fde058bbdf8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1467" height="882" loading="lazy" alt="malabar groove"> </figure>  The space is cosy and the decor is minimal with vibrant wall art featuring Pacha, a character from the popular dance drama Kathakali. The staff guides you through the menu, explaining the specialities. At Malabar Groove the menu is all about flavour and textures featuring a selection of South Indian specialities that are both familiar and exciting, like the range of dosa, light and crispy fermented rice and lentil crepe and vada, savoury fried snack made of lentils or sooji as well as a variety of curry including Malabari Prawn Curry, Kottayam Coconut Chicken, Mutton Coconut fry and Kerala Fish Moille.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240403080424_22769f3875bd0cc6e5751f7d267c1dccee308a4ff8a3b32d74210e094d5489d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240403080424_22769f3875bd0cc6e5751f7d267c1dccee308a4ff8a3b32d74210e094d5489d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="3234" height="2074" loading="lazy" alt="malabar groove"> <figcaption>Chef J Ekambaram</figcaption> </figure>  Stewarded by chef J Ekamabaram, who has been working in kitchens all over India since 1997, dining at Malabar Groove is a taste extravaganza and culinary experience.&nbsp; Dive into the chicken dosa, crispy and filled with spiced minced meat, it is ideal for dipping into the coconut chutney and tangy tomato pickle that accompanies it. The sambhar here is a good balance of savory and sweet making it a good accompaniment to the main meal. For a lighter appetiser opt for fried idli that comes with the chef’s special podi masala, a combination of lentils, spices and chilli.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240403080424_3e7aac4ded3ea7268ab8859f14d49e77116170e9b95cd0135bdd9d0bab93c65b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240403080424_3e7aac4ded3ea7268ab8859f14d49e77116170e9b95cd0135bdd9d0bab93c65b" data-rendition-name="original" width="5388" height="3616" loading="lazy" alt="malabar groove"> <figcaption>Chicken Thali set</figcaption> </figure>  Malabar cuisine is influenced by many cultures, the incorporation of which is clearly visible in the range of preparations. Popular amongst guests at Malabar Grove seems to be the Thali set, options include vegetable, chicken, mutton, fish and prawn and diners can choose between rice, chapati and Malabar paratha. The chicken thali comes with chicken cashew curry, rasam, sambhar, beetroots, coconut chutney, achar, papad, salad, dahi and rava halwa.&nbsp; The standout in the thali set apart from the creamy chicken is the beetroot, diced and tossed in spices, it eliminates the earthy taste of the vegetable so much so that a guest who ordered a vegetable set confused it for chicken. Wash it all down with a glass of chaas, spiced buttermilk made of yogurt, spices and herbs, to cleanse the palate before the next course  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240403080424_a3bf24ff96e112dc700e46494656be9071f7c3e03141728fecea984f52ceca6c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240403080424_a3bf24ff96e112dc700e46494656be9071f7c3e03141728fecea984f52ceca6c" data-rendition-name="original" width="5232" height="3460" loading="lazy" alt="malabar groove"> <figcaption>Glimpse of a tiffin box combo and filter coffee.</figcaption> </figure>  .For those looking to sample multiple favourites, a tiffin box combo would be the best option with four different combos to choose from.&nbsp; No South Indian meal is complete without a cup of strong and creamy filter coffee. What makes the coffee at Malabar Groove unique is that the restaurant imports the beans from South India itself, making it a must-try for coffee enthusiasts looking for something different from the usual cuppa.&nbsp; With accessible locations in Thamel and now also at Bagaicha in Naxal, Malabar Groove is a must-visit for anyone looking to be transported from the Himalaya to the Nilgiri.&nbsp;

Kerala to Kathmandu

Patan Museum is a repository of Kathmandu Valley heritage, but in its gallery wing is a temporary multimedia exhibition devoted to the indigenous Tharu people of Nepal’s southern plains.&nbsp; As the largest ethnic group in the Tarai, and because of their connection to US-funded malaria eradication in the 1960s, trans-migration of mountain dwellers to their forests in the Rapti Valley, as well as the Maoist conflict, the impact on the Tharu has been extensively analysed. But most of this research has come from non-Tharu academics. Now, the exhibition Daule Daule aims to highlight the history, culture and inter-generational knowledge and skills of the Tharu people by the Tharu themselves. “Exhibitions about the Tharu community were mostly from other people and sometimes they gave <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/5-myths-about-the-tharu">wrong information</a>,” says Birendra Mahato, one of the curators. “We thought it was important to tell our stories on our own.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709034_e78efaffd168f3d150ed3afdc0c41d7429f09f9d4a26687e9a9559bb36058dbe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024032709034_e78efaffd168f3d150ed3afdc0c41d7429f09f9d4a26687e9a9559bb36058dbe" data-rendition-name="original" width="5435" height="3623" loading="lazy" alt="Daule daule"> </figure>  The exhibition starts with a section dedicated to the Tharu women because it is the women who carry forward the culture. Says another curator Lavkant Chaudhary: “When you enter a Tharu village women are the first people you see and even inside the house from cooking to medicine, they are the ones who have the responsibility.” Indeed, the very first photograph by Vivek Chaudhary is of Tharu women walking on a foggy morning in Dang with firewood balanced on their heads. Other images play with the same theme: women carrying a water pitcher, grass, baskets.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709034_f398e9467dfd175f507f34cd5e6bfbfff923f74a467e021ebb8529ca3b9ae5c8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024032709034_f398e9467dfd175f507f34cd5e6bfbfff923f74a467e021ebb8529ca3b9ae5c8" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Daule Daule"> </figure>  Tharu women are perceived to be freer and more empowered because they do not face gender restrictions prevalent among Nepal’s other ethnic groups. Researchers have even called Tharu society matriarchal.&nbsp; Indu Tharu in her note accompanying the photographs begs to disagree. She writes that Tharu women are not so much free as ‘persistent’. They &nbsp;women still need a husband's permission to decide matters, and the Tharu are not matriarchal unless matriarchy means ‘leaving parent’s house and staying at the husband's house after marriage … or giving birth to as many babies as the family wishes … or until a son is born’.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709030_05c859c3ed5461b358647a8cc0630a96e9d0da7c6ad15f2517cdda1be4c0feb1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024032709030_05c859c3ed5461b358647a8cc0630a96e9d0da7c6ad15f2517cdda1be4c0feb1" data-rendition-name="original" width="5113" height="3409" loading="lazy" alt="daule daule"> </figure>  Tharu women are often photographed in full traditional regalia of ornaments. But the exhibition has pictures of Tharu women working at home, in fields and participating in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-karjahi-movement">political movements</a> from the abolishment of the Kamaiya and Kamlari system to the Tharuhat movement, showing their resistance.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709030_b55a2b2c289871e199e1eed2f95293fc01ab7d3c71c049d496e8a20a46613cc9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024032709030_b55a2b2c289871e199e1eed2f95293fc01ab7d3c71c049d496e8a20a46613cc9" data-rendition-name="original" width="5911" height="3941" loading="lazy" alt="daule daule"> </figure>  In the corner of the exhibition hangs a painting of a Tharu woman, Parbati Chaudhary with her baby on her back. During the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tikapur-s-protracted-trauma">Tikapur riots</a>, Parbati’s husband, who has a disability, was also apprehended by the police. Parbati then joined the movement carrying her baby with her. The photos from the movements and the painting serve as a reminder of the historical injustices in the hands of the state.&nbsp; Tharu women are now venturing into fields that were once male-dominated. There are photos of female mahouts bathing elephants, showing the continuity of the human-animal relationship that the Tharus traditionally practiced.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709030_4fd80ef1e2f427c02bb83a614234c3be7ddb0b23bf775bb117f2453f885733bf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024032709030_4fd80ef1e2f427c02bb83a614234c3be7ddb0b23bf775bb117f2453f885733bf" data-rendition-name="original" width="4917" height="3278" loading="lazy" alt="Daule Daule"> </figure>  Also included in the exhibition are photos of body art that adorns the back, hands and legs of the Tharu women. In the community, tattooing is a skill passed to daughter by their mothers and is not only an art form but is also used as therapy, the belief that it eases pain.&nbsp; “Tattoos are not only an important way of sharing inter-generational knowledge but there is also a belief that when one dies, the tattoo travels into the afterlife,” explains Lavkant Chaudhary.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024032709030_95fb44a92c69e6d87cf7014afaa25a05755390dd9608b39cb3c52bb2a770d862.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024032709030_95fb44a92c69e6d87cf7014afaa25a05755390dd9608b39cb3c52bb2a770d862" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Daule daule"> </figure>  One wall of the gallery is festooned with fishing nets and tools, providing a glimpse of the Tharu lifestyle in forests, grasslands and rivers. With changing times, traditional Tharu fishing areas are protected, threatening a way of life and the skills and knowledge amassed through generations. Most of Tharu activities are collective, and are sustainable. They do not fish alone, the women go to the forests in groups to collect clay which they beat into pottery. This skill is dying which is why photographic documentation is so important.&nbsp; The curatorial team is later planning on taking the exhibition to other parts of Nepal as well. Younger generations of Tharus who grew up in the capital and non-Tharus not able to visit the Tharu museum in Chitwan will learn a lot from this show. Daule Daule&nbsp; Curated by Birendra Mahato, Indu Tharu, Sanjib Chaudhary, Lavkant Chaudhary, Arnab Chaudhary, Maria Bossert and Tom Robertson&nbsp; Patan Museum, Until 31 March

The Tharu story by the Tharu

Kathmandu Valley may be consumed by urban sprawl, but the historic core of Patan has changed little in the last 400 years. Destroyed and rebuilt serval times over the centuries, the seat of the Malla kings is a jewel in the crown of Nepal’s heritage.&nbsp; Now, the next generation of Nepali school students have found an exciting and fun way to find out more about the history of their geography. The Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust (KVPT) has launched a series of interactive maps with bilingual explanations meant for students on school excursions called ‘Let’s Discover Patan Durbar Square’. The maps are distributed to schools to use during their study trips and prompt students to draw what they see, or create something new. One activity asks students to dream up a new monument in the square that respects heritage but would endure, while keeping in mind material of cultural significance. Another activity asks students to hunt for particular elements in the carvings or pillars, forcing them to pay close attention to the details. Another task tells them to count the number of gilded gajur pinnacles on Krishna Mandir, and then draw them. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present">A portal into Patan’s past and present</a>, Prakriti Kandel Creative activities vary in complexity and difficulty and challenge the students to also think beyond what they see: one asks students to ‘imagine the underground pipes and the main source of water at Manga Hiti’. The colourful maps come in A4-size booklets and are part of an Educational Outreach project started in 2017 by the art festival Kathmandu Triennale, and now taken over by KVPT. The English and Nepali text on a map guides young visitors around the Patan Darbar Complex. The booklet reflects the Malla era aesthetics of the palace square. &nbsp; “We hope that the maps will extend the outreach to schools and students with first-hand interaction with this historic and cultural site,” says Sophia L Pandé at KVPT, which has been involved in the restoration of the Valley’s heritage, especially after the 2015 earthquake. It aims to inspire a sense of responsibility for conservation from a young age, and the third edition of the map project was supported by the US Embassy, and the one before that by the New Zealand High Commission.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">Preserving Patan post-earthquake</a>, Claire Burket  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240513040556_e01331402a08762bb303990060d6fedff5f96735498556761c3dfdba4f86727e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240513040556_e01331402a08762bb303990060d6fedff5f96735498556761c3dfdba4f86727e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Patan for beginners NT"> </figure>  One of the creators of the maps, Rishi Amatya, says the Patan Darbar Complex is an open space that can foster creativity and give culture inter-generational continuity. After every earthquake, the palace complex has also provided safety and shelter to the people of Patan.&nbsp; “Around the year, the open spaces of Patan Darbar Square serve as the traditional stage for jatras,” explains Amatya, “so it is not just the temples and monuments but also the intangible heritage that makes this place so important.” Amatya worked alongside editor Sharareh Bajracharya and illustrator Suman Maharjan on the Let’s Discover Patan Durbar Square series. Maharjan’s illustrations make the booklets introspective and vibrant, which even adults will find interesting and informative. With his extensive experience drawing picture books, Nepali elements feature heavily in his work. The drawings balance faithful detail in the temples with a playful, cartoon-like style in depicting people and activities. The booklets are printed in high-quality and do the drawings justice, and it is a physical copy that students can pick up at the Patan Museum. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/patan-heritage-in-fantasy-fiction">Patan heritage in fantasy fiction</a>, Trishagni Sakya There is a lot of work that goes into making the maps, and it starts with Amatya’s research. Being a local he has a lot of knowledge passed down from his forebears, as well as first-hand stories and history books. He then researches monuments and develops a narrative that fits a theme.&nbsp; The Keshav Narayan Chok hosts the Hindu god and columns from when it was part of a Buddhist Vihar. There are Lichhavi-era stone columns and reminders of when the square was the seat of the Mallas. The dome roof structures point to post-earthquake Rana influences. In the first map, characters get a bird's-eye view of Sundari Chok and Mul Chok on Garuda’s back. The project requires the writer, editor, and illustrator to work closely, to decide what to include and what to leave out. “Rishi and I spent a lot of time walking around Darbar Square to get the drawings right,” says Maharjan. The effectiveness of the maps were obvious during a recent tour for students from Adarsha Kanya Niketan, a school adjacent to the museum. The Trust also provides transport for schools that come from further away and Amatya acts as a guide, training other guides.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/itumbahas-living-museum">Itumbaha's living museum</a>, Sahina Shrestha To book tours, contact Patan Museum or the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust.

Patan for beginners

The old Newa trading town of Bandipur, 145km west of Kathmandu, fell into a gradual decline after the Prithvi Highway was built in the 1970s. The town was bypassed, but that is probably what also saved its old world charm. The capital of Tanahu district was then shifted from Bandipur to Damauli down the mountain next to the highway, further diminishing its importance. Local traders started moving to Bharatpur or Kathmandu, taking their business with them – leaving Bandipur in splendid isolation for decades. Now, in a stunning comeback, Bandipur has been transformed from a Ghost Town to the Queen of the Hills. Its quant pedestrianised slate-paved streets are lined with traditional Newa buildings, their bougainvillea-draped facades intact. Dilapidated homes of traders have been renovated with locally available material. The main Bandipur Bazar is vehicle-free, a decision welcomed by both businesses and locals alike. There is very little cement to be seen, at least in the core of the old town – although an eyesore of a highrise cable car terminal has sprouted on an adjoining ridge. Credit for preserving the town goes to Bandipur Ecocultural Tourism Project launched 20 years ago to revive the once bustling town which served as a business centre in the region in the 18th and 19th centuries. Merchants went through the town to get to Kolkata in India, and for the trade between Kathmandu and Tibet. “Before there was reliable local transport, people from western mountains of Kaski, Lamjung, Gorkha and Manang would come to Bandipur to exchange for goods from Chitwan,” says Shanti Kunwar, who runs the Bindabasini Homestay in the heart of the bazar. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dapcha-s-old-world-charm-awaits">Dapcha’s old world charm awaits</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240512080548_3bbbd96b4192f06edb0329a6ecf3b7a1bdd776f05664d2f1b135b55480391b7b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240512080548_3bbbd96b4192f06edb0329a6ecf3b7a1bdd776f05664d2f1b135b55480391b7b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1299" height="729" loading="lazy" alt="Go Bandipur map NT"></figure>  Locals have also added walking steps so that it is easier to climb up the scenic hills that Bandipur is famous for. Hiking trails offer panoramic views of the Himalaya to the north. Nearby Thani Mai hill with its shrine on the peak offers a bird-eye-view of the main bazar, the Marsyangdi Valley below and the mountains beyond. For thrill-seekers, there is now paragliding and some of the best rock climbing in Nepal. Cave enthusiasts can go exploring in the Siddha and Pataleshwar Gufa. There is also a 13km long mountain biking route between the nearby villages of Ramkot to Korikha via Bandipur Bazar. “About 200 years ago, Newa people from Bhaktapur and Kirtipur settled in this area,” explains local academic Dinesh Shrestha, “and they brought their architecture, culture and festivals with them.” Bandipur has its own Biska Jatra, at the same time as Bhaktapur celebrates the same chariot festival. It also has Lakhey masked dance parades. Bandipur today is a microcosm of Nepal with a diverse Magar, Gurung, Rai and Brahmin-Chhetri population. In fact, the name ‘Bandipur’ is a slightly Nepalicised word derived from Magar words for ‘a place where water comes from the forest’. In the summer, Shiva fanatics of the Bolbam type have a mela at Siddha Gufa. During Dasain, a similar mela is held in Pataleshwar Gufa on Ram Nawami. Bandipur is also historically significant. Mani Mukundeshwari, Chandrakot, and Huslangkot Forts still stand in the town once ruled by the Sen dynasty. The ruins of Mani Mukunda’s fort are still on a hillock nearby. The Mani Mukunda Sen Wall which looks like and is known as the ‘mini great wall,’ at 1,100m was recently rebuilt to attract more visitors. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-sustainable-tourism-means-in-practice">What sustainable tourism means in practice</a>, Bimbika Sijapati  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240512080544_5bb230a8fcb2fb08cef4b7330782cb2952219ac5db525c7e9cdba4d3cc546de6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240512080544_5bb230a8fcb2fb08cef4b7330782cb2952219ac5db525c7e9cdba4d3cc546de6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1067" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Go Bandipur NT"><figcaption>Mani Mukunda Sen Wall. Photo: WEWONDERWHY.COM</figcaption></figure>  Like Kathmandu, Bandipur has its own Tundikhel which was used as a parade ground for the garrison here during the Rana regime. It is now a park from where visitors get a sweeping view of peaks from Dhaulagiri to the west to Langtang to the east and the sharp khukri-shaped icy ridge of Himalchuli straight ahead to the north. Also visible across the Marsyangdi Valley is Gorkha, and the palace of the Shah kings, and with binoculars one can also see the historic Ligligkot Darbar, and Rainaskot village in Lamjung. Inside Bandipur Bazar, one building in particular stands out. A fine, white structure designed by an architect from Kolkata, constructed by masons from Bhaktapur, and bankrolled by Chandragopal Pradhan in 1929. However, the Ranas thought the design of the building was a little too similar to that of their palaces. Pradhan was arrested and made to pay a fine for his audaciousness. The building is now one of more than 70 heritage hotels in Bandipur. Most lodges are family-owned and is the main source of livelihood for locals. The homestay culture really started in Bandipur 13 years ago with Chandeni Pipalthok Homestay, and its success inspired many others. Now, there are 12 homestays registered in the village, and four in the Bazar. “They let you experience a culture authentically and the nearby villages of Korikha and Dharampani even have Gurung homestays,” says Shanti Kunwar, “and to experience Magar hospitality, go to Ramkot.” After the pandemic Nepali visitors compensated for the lack of foreign tourists. But while domestic tourists tend to stay at homestays for one or two days, foreign tourists often stay much longer - some are there to research Bandipur’s history and culture. Recently, the Gandaki Province made it mandatory for government officials to stay at homestays, on tour or on duty. Bayberries (काफल), raspberries (ऐंसेलु), and millet pancakes (कोदोको रोटी) are part of the Bandipur diet in the summer, making for a stay that is delicious, healthy, and organically authentic. Bandipur is now a five-hour drive from Kathmandu on the Prithvi Highway because of the bad roads. But with the tunnel and road upgrading, it should be a comfortable 2 hours soon. Being halfway between Kathmandu and Pokhara makes Bandipur a perfect night-stop to recuperate from the rough road. It is a pleasant 30 minute steep uphill drive up hairpin bends from Damauli. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/time-catching-up-with-timeless-dolpo">Time catching up with timeless Dolpo</a>, Alton C. Byers

Go Bandipur

Despite provisions in the Constitution, there is still systemic descent-based <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalit-lives-must-matter">discrimination against Dalits</a>, especially women, a new report by Amnesty International has said. The report states that there is a culture of impunity that puts Dalit women and girls at risk from an entrenched casteism in the police and the courts that perpetuates the discrimination.&nbsp; ‘Authorities in Nepal are failing to protect Dalits, particularly women and girls, from systemic and widespread caste-based discrimination,’ Amnesty International says in the report, ‘<a href="https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/asa31/7980/2024/en/">No One Cares: Descent-Based Discrimination against Dalits</a>’ which documents case studies of caste-based discrimination in Nepal. The report details just how pervasive the caste system still is in Nepal despite laws against exclusion of Dalits. This manifests itself in violence and discrimination in everyday life for many Dalit individuals, families and communities. Even when they face blatant institutional discrimination and violence, Dalits have little recourse in the justice system or response from the police when complaints are filed. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/black-lives-matter-but-dalit-lives-dont">Caste-based prejudice</a> perpetuates a culture of impunity, the report says. “The authorities in Nepal are not doing enough to counteract the culture of impunity for human rights violations related to descent-based discrimination in Nepal. Efforts made by the authorities are still inadequate and insufficient, and they seem to exist only on paper but do not translate into real changes in the lives and the human rights of Dalits, Dalit women and girls in particular,” says Fernanda Doz Costa, Amnesty International’s Director for Gender and Racial Justice Programme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051209054_379b2278e487029b362e25e406f563faa4ff4ccb057b634cf1238afcf28789e5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2024051209054_379b2278e487029b362e25e406f563faa4ff4ccb057b634cf1238afcf28789e5" data-rendition-name="original" width="4976" height="3732" loading="lazy" alt="State of Dalits in Nepal NT"> <figcaption>(From left) Hari Bhakta Dhakal Mijar, Amnesty International's Gender, Racial Justice and Refugees Programme's Director Fernanda Doz Costa and Amnesty International Nepal's Chairperson Bipin Budhathoki. </figcaption> </figure>  Despite a reservation system for Dalits and the prohibition of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-caste-struggle">caste-based discrimination</a>, the report has documented many instances of impunity and lack of representation of Dalits in the justice system. There are also examples of institutional discrimination in the police and justice system, lack of effective oversight mechanisms and accountability. ‘Dalits do not trust the police and the justice system in general, and the limited government level data and statistics available, and confirm their distrust is well-founded, including for Dalit women confronting caste-based violence,’ the report says. Caste and gender-based violence therefore often go unreported making the exclusion of Dalits even less visible, and allowing the discrimination to be accepted and perpetuating it. When caste-based incidents are reported, Amnesty says, police frequently refuse to register cases of untouchability and gender-based violence or rape.&nbsp; Among the case-studies of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/i-never-thought-i-would-be-alone-this-early-in-life">caste-based crimes</a> in the report is that of 18-year-old Ajit Dhakal Mijar, whose corpse has been in a hospital morgue in Kathmandu for the past eight years. Ajit was involved in a relationship with a non-Dalit girl, and was found dead. Police automatically recorded it as suicide and he was buried without informing the family. Ajit’s father had the body exhumed and said police were trying to cover up the murder of his son by burying him after a fake post-mortem report. The case is pending in the Supreme Court and Ajit’s body is still in the morgue.&nbsp; Another case in the report is of 12-year-old Angira Pasi who &nbsp;was found four years ago hanging from a tree. A ‘higher’ case man was accused of raping her earlier, and the village authorities instead of punishing the man got him to marry her. But the girl was tormented by his family for being an ‘untouchable’ and she was found hanging.&nbsp; Pressure from human rights groups forced a reluctant police to register a complaint and the accused, his mother, and his aunt were detained. The Rupandehi District Court then convicted the accused of murder and sentenced him to 18 years in prison.&nbsp; Police often register such cases under other laws which downplays the discriminatory motive of the offence and dilutes the severity of caste-based discrimination, Amnesty says. Anita Mahara says in the report: “No one cares.” Despite laws, the caste system continues to segregate and oppress Dalits who make up about 14% of Nepal’s population. The entrenched discrimination excludes Dalits from opportunities and discriminates against them in everything from using community water sources to education, livelihood,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside"> marriage</a>, place of worship, security and health, and citizenship.&nbsp; Descent-based discrimination covers caste and analogous systems of inherited status, and authorities have a legal obligation to address all forms of caste-based discrimination, including when committed by private individuals, in accordance with the international human rights law and standards, Amnesty says. Parliament’s Committee on Law, Justice and Human Rights ruled that every police station should have a Dalit unit, and 86 were created to report, investigate and coordinate with victims of discrimination. &nbsp; In preparing this report, Amnesty International’s researchers visited three district police stations in Madhes Province and found that the Dalit desk was just a sign on the door.&nbsp; Amnesty says the Nepal government must be more proactive in uprooting entrenched caste and gender-based violence and discrimination. It says special measures are needed to improve the situation of Dalit women and girls due to the inter-generational history of oppression and entrenched culture of caste-bias, patriarchy and discrimination. Says Fernanda Doz Costa, “Nepal must fulfil its obligation to provide effective, timely and meaningful access to justice and reparations for survivors. It must move away from merely paying lip service to the ideals of achieving equality for all but take a concrete human-rights centric approach to relegating descent-based discrimination to the dustbins of history.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240512080552_34d93dcbdac9df34d4b6fc5ee0fed8cb939f6fd615d95eebcff001486728d4f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240512080552_34d93dcbdac9df34d4b6fc5ee0fed8cb939f6fd615d95eebcff001486728d4f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="State of Dalits in Nepal"> <figcaption>'No One Cares: Descent-Based Discrimination against Dalits' by Amnesty International</figcaption> </figure>

Who cares?

It was a bright Saturday morning on 5 May 2012, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19285" target="_blank">Capt Alexander Maximov </a>of Avia Club was flying a tourist on a blue two-seater plane on a sightseeing flight of the Annapurnas. Looking down at the Seti River, he noticed that the water was not its usual white. There was a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Anatom-of-a-Himalayan-tsunami,1330" target="_blank">wall of dark debris racing down the river</a> trailed by a brown ribbon of floating logs. Maximov used to fly MiGs in the Soviet Air Force, and recognised it as a massive flash flood. He radioed Pokhara tower, and the air traffic controller called up the security forces who immediately informed the city’s FM stations. This early warning saved many lives, but 72 people were still killed 12 years ago this week in the Seti tragedy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511030512_10f6fca68c0a4b2f3c762b6dc2ef073b6eab4fd37f13b4977421c3705eb9efc9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240511030512_10f6fca68c0a4b2f3c762b6dc2ef073b6eab4fd37f13b4977421c3705eb9efc9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2350" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Screenshot of video taken by remote camera of a plane (left) piloted by Capt Alexander Maximov (right) of Avia Club Nepal. </figcaption> </figure>  The plane had a remote video camera on its wingtip which had <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19285" target="_blank">recorded the source of this flood</a>: a massive rockfall near the summit of Annapurna IV that sent a cloud of brown dust billowing up to the sky. <a href="https://sandrp.in/2014/01/26/explained-seti-river-floods-in-may-2012-nepal-a-chain-of-events-starting-at-25000-feet/" target="_blank">Scientists have since pieced together</a> the sequence of events and found that ice and rock fell more than 5,000m causing a lake impounded in the Seti’s canyon by a smaller rockfall the previous week to burst. This event set in motion a large debris flow 10m high racing down the river. <a href="https://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/images/82937/making-sense-of-nepals-seti-river-disaster" target="_blank">Geologists say </a>the entire south face of the Annapurna massif is inherently unstable, so this was not the first flash flood to come down the rivers, and nor will it be the last. Climate breakdown may make such disasters even more frequent, with consequences for settlements and infrastructure downstream. The latest study by geologist Narayan Gurung three years ago made a hazard map of the Seti in case a similar flood should happen again. The reason is that the 7,525 Annapurna IV is said to be the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/pokhara-800-years-ago" target="_blank">remnant of a 500m higher peak that collapsed</a>, probably during a mega earthquake in 1255CE.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_a4366bcc1cdf1364986ad04661dc14757ddc39009236afd887be5fa7add06dda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024051103054_a4366bcc1cdf1364986ad04661dc14757ddc39009236afd887be5fa7add06dda" data-rendition-name="original" width="640" height="480" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>The flood as it approached crushers collecting boulders on the river bed as the water arrived at the Pokhara-Baglung Highway. Photo: ALEXANDER MAXIMOV/AVIA CLUB NEPAL</figcaption> </figure>  Deposits of that mountain collapse trapped ice and water in the headwaters of the Seti called the Sabche Cirque, which periodically burst, unleashing a series of mega floods more than 100m high. Pokhara today is situated on the debris fan of that cataclysm that also blocked side rivers and created Phewa, Rupa, Begnas and other lakes. Carbon dating of buried trees match historical records of a major earthquake in Nepal in 1255CE that also killed King Abhaya Malla of Kathmandu. Since then, there are geological signs of other major floods on the Seti, Madi, Mardi and Modi rivers that drain the southern flanks of Annapurna.&nbsp; Scientists warn that future floods on the Seti pose a major risk to Pokhara city and reservoir projects like Tanahu Hydropower and Upper Seti that are under construction on the river.&nbsp; “Another major earthquake in the region would easily mobilise the sediment in the Sabche Cirque and unleash another sudden flood,” says geologist Krishna KC. “Pokhara must have a hazard map, and strictly enforce zoning laws.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_40a6fe0195466a5274d40dbbe3f043a3b253ac443622784040fe227205e3f582.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024051103054_40a6fe0195466a5274d40dbbe3f043a3b253ac443622784040fe227205e3f582" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>A photograph taken at 9:38AM on 5 May 2012 at the point where Seti bursts into Pokhara Valley from its gorge.</figcaption> </figure>  The National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority has a district chapter in Kaski that has classified 10 of Pokhara’s wards as well as Annapurna and Machapuchre rural municipalities being at high risk from floods and landslides. But urban pressure means that people are building houses in high risk areas along the Seti’s terraces, and Pokhara Metropolis has been unable to prevent it. In the 2012 disaster, Pokara’s Annapurna FM was among the radio stations broadcasting urgent messages to people to move to higher ground. The station then worked with the government in search, rescue and relief. “But we are not prepared for another disaster like this, in fact it could be worse next time because there are now more people living along the very river banks that were swept away twelve years ago,” says Dipendra Shrestha of Annapurna FM. The sheer west face of Annapurna IV is still highly unstable, and has constant rockfalls that block the Seti, of which the 2012 event was a particularly big one. Says Prithvi Narayan Campus geography professor Ramji Pokhrel: “The Seti is a permanent danger, we must be strict about allowing settlements along its banks. But that is not happening.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_c23f1a9113a1140a9fbecd2c92a1769062e42382ce0e6fc78e5ae7b3e306eadd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024051103054_c23f1a9113a1140a9fbecd2c92a1769062e42382ce0e6fc78e5ae7b3e306eadd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1120" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Seti River. Photo: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  Climate breakdown makes the risk more real because of more frequent rockfalls, avalanches and extreme precipitation in the headwaters of the Seti. Geologist Krishna KC says all this does not mean that Pokhara is too dangerous to live in since there is no place on Earth that is without threat. But he adds, “The idea is to minimise the threat, take measures to adapt to the risk factors.”&nbsp; It was Saturday, and downstream in Kharapani people were bathing in the hot springs, and washing laundry on the banks of the Seti. Many had not heard the warnings, or did not heed it.&nbsp; Kharapani has been wiped off the map, and there is a memorial column here for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-Seti,362" target="_blank">those who died that day</a> and those still missing. It is also a testimony to the tragedy that struck here 12 years ago, and a &nbsp;stark reminder that, given the topography of the Annapurnas, it is best to be prepared for another big flood.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240510200512_fd6d6709d96608bac46e16a50b3acff4907f612868f75972b4ff120743f39482.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20240510200512_fd6d6709d96608bac46e16a50b3acff4907f612868f75972b4ff120743f39482" data-rendition-name="original" width="1074" height="710" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> </figure>  <ol> <li>At 9:10am on 5 May 2012, a huge chunk of ice and rock breaks off the south ridge of Annapurna IV.</li> <li>A remote camera on the wing of a sightseeing plane captures the dust cloud from the rockfall.</li> <li>The debris fell 3,000m first into an ice shelf and then into a lake impounded by a smaller rockfall the previous week, preceded by an air blast that flattened trees down valley.&nbsp;</li> <li>The Sabche Cirque contains eroded sediments from a possible collapse of Paleo-Annapurna IV 800 years ago.</li> <li>The Seti gorge is hundreds of metres deep but only a few metres wide.</li> <li>Possible location of impounded lake.</li> <li>The combined force of the water and melted ice from the avalanche races downstream.</li> <li>Kharapani</li> </ol> <h2>Lucky ones …</h2> The sun was shining that hot Saturday morning on 5 May 12 years ago, and families in the village of Sandal were on the banks of the Seti, bathing and washing. Children were swimming to cool off. The monsoon was more than a month away, and a flood was the last thing in the minds of people. Sandal, 20km north of Pokhara, is a recent settlement, and the inhabitants are mostly from the Tamang and Magar communities. This is the last settlement along the Seti, upstream from here the gorge is narrow and wild.&nbsp; Because they migrated here from outside, the inhabitants did not have inter-generational memory of floods, and the 11 households lived close to the river. Even 12 years after the deadly flood, Sandal still bears signs of the devastation with massive boulders strewn along the riverbed. Dilmaya Pun had neighbours over at her house to help out with work, and food preparation was late that morning. The guests were getting impatient, but it was this delay that saved their lives.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_94aaf35b21633bd4ea69bf446e6571aa8a33e8b4d4780945a62588964cf771e3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2024051103054_94aaf35b21633bd4ea69bf446e6571aa8a33e8b4d4780945a62588964cf771e3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2196" height="1494" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Dilmaya Pun, who survived because of delays in cooking a meal. Photos: DURGA RANA MAGAR</figcaption> </figure>  “We were all preparing to go down to the river to volunteer in building a temporary log bridge, and if the food had arrived in time we would have been right there in the path of the flood,” Dilmaya says. A neighbour, Sanu Magar, still cannot believe her luck. “It was a weekend and the kids were joining the team putting together the bridge. Thank goodness the food was late.”&nbsp; The survivors remember the flood approaching with a thunderous roar in a wall of angry grey water that immediately swept away the logs for the bridge, corn fields and two houses. Dilmaya and Sanu gathered their children and ran to higher ground and watched their homes being washed away. Relief agencies resettled them higher up at Khobang where they built small makeshift huts, and did odd jobs since the land there was not suitable for farming. But after four years, the fear subsided somewhat and they returned to Sandal. There is now a new metal suspension bridge, and better off residents have moved to Pokhara or gone abroad. Only the elderly and children are left. In 2012, Uttam Tamang was 14 years old. He remembers watching in horror as the pasty sludge washed away the nearby market town of Kharapani. He says: “I will never forget that frightening day, it was just chance that saved me.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_8cb7686e7172e6f97f8f9b0402578169aa392bab84bc767a078d52f646971617.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2024051103054_8cb7686e7172e6f97f8f9b0402578169aa392bab84bc767a078d52f646971617" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1155" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Uttam Tamang, who is still traumatised by what he saw 12 years ago as a boy. </figcaption> </figure>  Since it was a holiday he had walked from Sandal to the hot spring at Kharapani for a dip. He remembers some foreign tourists and many locals bathing in the sulphurous hot water. Suddenly, someone shouted “Flood (बाढी) coming!” But many heard “Tiger (बाघ) coming!” And thought it was a joke, but Uttam saw the wall of grey water approaching and ran back up the hill. He was so traumatised that he was afraid even to go back to his home in Sandal, and went to live with relatives in Pokhara. He dropped out of school, and regrets not being in college by now.&nbsp; “I am happy I survived, but the Seti took away my future, it took away everything,” says Uttam, now 24. During the monsoon, Sandal’s families move together to higher ground in Khobang, but even there the Upper Seti hydropower is digging a tunnel and the dynamite blasts shake the whole area.&nbsp; <h2>… and not so lucky</h2> Twelve years ago, Kharapani was becoming a popular destination for foreign and Nepali visitors drawn by the hot spring. But in a matter of minutes that Saturday morning the entire market town was swept away. Of the 72 who perished that day, 69 were from Kharapani — three of them Ukrainian tourists.&nbsp; Min Bahadur Bhujel used to work as a labourer hammering stones for a construction contractor at the Bhujrung Khola confluence upstream from Kharapani. His wife Rama and daughter Dipa had tried to convince him not to go to work that day because it was time to plant corn.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_f692cfda299180e5fa59c74ac33e3b2fbd39e47115bf430ddd40b37e376ee862.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="2024051103054_f692cfda299180e5fa59c74ac33e3b2fbd39e47115bf430ddd40b37e376ee862" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1158" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Min Bahadur Bhujel's wife Rama Bhujel with a framed photo of her husband.</figcaption> </figure>  “I’ll go, at least I will earn some money,” Min Bahadur, who was 46 then, had said. That was the last his family saw of him. Dipa is now 28 and married, her brother is 23 and works as a driver. Both dropped out of school. The family had struggled after losing the sole earner. For Rama, the only hope is now from her children, she looks lovingly at a framed photo of her husband and says, “All I have now is this picture of him.” Kumari BK also has a framed photo of her son, Anil who at age 15 was already aware of his responsibility to take care of his family. He worried about the hardship his mother faced raising him and his brother.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024051103054_8ef506a7578fe5cb8e7c5bf17bef6fd56a15371d70fa1d708797b2e125030945.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2024051103054_8ef506a7578fe5cb8e7c5bf17bef6fd56a15371d70fa1d708797b2e125030945" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1165" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering the Seti disaster Page 10-11 NT #1211"> <figcaption>Kumari BK with a photograph of her 15-year-old son Anil who was swept away.</figcaption> </figure>  He was not going to school regularly, and saw no reason to. That Saturday he had gone down to the river to crush stones. “He went to earn a little daily wage so he could take care of us, but he left us for good,” Kumari says. “By now he would have been earning enough to take care of us.” Even more than the bereavement of the family of those who were killed that day is the unending grief of the families of those whose bodies were never found. They know their relatives are gone, but there is still a sliver of hope.&nbsp; Gopal Tamrakar, who was 71 at the time, and his son and daughter-in-law owned a shop in Kharapani, and were making a decent living. Gopal had come to meet his son Kalyan briefly, and headed down to the market. That was the last the family saw of Gopal. Now there is only a photo on Kalyan’s mobile phone. Kalyan’s brother was also caught in the flood. He held on to his wife, Basundhara, and daughter with both hands but the force of the water took his wife away. Basundhara’s body was never found. Kalyan’s brother has not been the same since.

Remembering the Seti disaster

James Harris (‘Jim’) Simons, the mathematician and billionaire philanthropist who set up a foundation to improve Nepal’s healthcare system, died in New York on 10 May, aged 86. Jim Simons was an award-winning mathematician who pioneered quantitative investing and gave away much of his billions to support mathematics education, scientific research and various humanitarian causes. But his life was marked by family tragedies. His elder son, Paul, was killed in New York in 1996 in a traffic accident, and his younger son, Nick drowned in Bali in 2003 after a volunteering stint in Nepal.&nbsp; Nick Simons had written letters home from Nepal about his experience in rural health posts, and was determined to become a physician so he could help the underprivileged in poorer parts of the world.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240511120528_08e9e9ec5b9faa6a852fb5a4b5a8586526935cb8a9c8c61fd329fb8e4d7466e4" data-rendition-name="original" width="596" height="812" loading="lazy" alt="Nick Simons"> <figcaption>Nick Simons with a friend in Nepal in 2003. He died soon after while swimming in Bali.</figcaption> </figure>  After Nick’s tragic death, Jim Simons and his economist wife Marilyn travelled to Nepal several times to set up the <a href="https://www.nsi.edu.np/overview" target="_blank">Nick Simons Institute (NSI)</a> to back up government hospitals in rural areas with training, equipment and budgetary support. Since it was established in 2006, NSI has invested more than $100 million in Nepal’s health sector and now supports 45 district hospitals and health facilities. Most of the institute’s work is behind-the-scenes and not visible to the public, like its help with training nurses and anaesthesiologists, maintaining biomedical equipment, and in retaining qualified medical staff in remote rural hospitals by topping up salaries. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=11436" target="_blank">Jim Simons once told Nepali Times</a>: "Rural health care is not a new problem in Nepal, and there are lots of people addressing the issue. What makes NSI unique is that it will do this job better than it has ever been done with an emphasis on quality and training.” Indeed, the Simons made several visits to Nepal in 2003 soon after their son died, talking to health experts to see where support would be most catalytic and meaningful. They decided to do this not by running their own hospitals, but by working with the government in developing sustainable solutions in rural healthcare and scaling it up. "With the establishment of the Nick Simon's Institute in 2006, Jim was clearly a game changer for enhancement of rural health in Nepal. &nbsp;Also what is unforgettable about Jim was his amazing sense of humor in telling a story, his sharp intellect, and how he did not suffer fools lightly," says <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18356" target="_blank">Buddha Basnyat</a>, a physician who is in the executive committee of NSI. The Simons often said they would probably never have been involved in Nepal’s health sector had it not been for their son Nick, who had found fulfilment helping Nepalis and wanted to return to live and work here.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240511020556_761b7ed7926bbf26b24c5e8ab06df077019280451bc1d4efc5bd3c5d44e740bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="904" height="1382" loading="lazy" alt="Jim Simons NT"> <figcaption>Marilyn and Jim Simons in Nepal in 2023 with Patty Weisenfeld of Nick Simons Foundation. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption> </figure>  Jim Simons went through three phases in his life: as a mathematician, an investor and a philanthropist. As a maths professor, he found solutions that are still used to solve problems in physics and astronomy. He then set up <a href="https://www.rentec.com/Home.action?about=true" target="_blank">Renaissance Technologies</a> that used his talent in mathematics to analyse complex financial data and forecast global share markets. That is how he made billions, much of which he re-invested in improving STEM education in American schools, in exploring the universe, or trying to find the causes of autism. After the death of his sons, Jim Simons sought solace in solving mathematical puzzles in his head. One morning at the leafy Summit Hotel in Kathmandu, the proof came to him in a flash of a puzzle that had bedevilled him for a long time.&nbsp; ‘Jim was an exceptional leader who did transformative work in mathematics and developed a world-leading investment company,’ the <a href="https://www.simonsfoundation.org/2024/05/10/simons-foundation-co-founder-mathematician-and-investor-jim-simons-dies-at-86/" target="_blank">Simons Foundation</a> said in a statement announcing his death on Friday. Besides NSI, the <a href="https://www.nicksimonsfoundation.org/" target="_blank">Nick Simons Foundation</a> was involved in other health-related activities in Nepal, including building the new <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15138" target="_blank">maternity wing at Patan Hospital</a> and supporting <a href="https://www.nyayahealthnepal.org/" target="_blank">Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN)</a> that runs <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-rural-lifeline" target="_blank">Bayalpata Hospital in Achham District.</a>&nbsp; Jim Simons once said: “Nick opened up a whole new world to us. We have met so many wonderful people who otherwise we never would have known. Nepal is a gift that Nick gave us.”

Jim Simons' gift to Nepal

Unlike tens of thousands of refugees from Bhutan, Govinda Rijal had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/real-refugees-want-to-go-back-to-bhutan" target="_blank">no inclination to apply for third-country repatriation</a>. Even when his parents Chandra Lal and Devi Maya decided to join the 90,000 refugees resettled in the United States 15 years ago, he <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/elderly-left-in-bhutan-refugee-camp" target="_blank">remained behind in Nepal.</a> He excelled in studies, went to Kyoto and the Philippines to get a PhD in rice research, and was a professor at the Institute of Agriculture and Animal Science at Tribhuvan University. Govinda’s parents arrived on the Nepal border in Indian trucks after the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/japan-award-for-bhutan-minister-opposed" target="_blank">Bhutan regime drove out</a> nearly 100,000 Nepali-speaking citizens in 1992. The Lhotsampa, as the refugees were called, were consigned to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18150#.YN1-Ny8RoWr" target="_blank">eight refugee camps in eastern Nepal</a>. Govinda stayed on in Bhutan, determined not to abandon his beloved homeland. But the persecution and threats became untenable, and at age 22 he himself left in February 1993 tracking his parents down to a bamboo hut in Beldangi refugee camp of Jhapa district.&nbsp; Outside his pleasant and relaxed exterior Govinda harboured a fierce fire for justice and human rights which he expressed in poetry and activism. He was involved in the Peace March in 1996 to walk to Thimphu, but was arrested by Indian police right after crossing the Mechi Bridge to be detained in Jalpaiguri Jail. After Bhutan, Nepal was Govinda’s second home — the land of his forebears. And it was here last week on 5 May that he was tragically killed at age 52 when a commuter bus overturned and careened into a sidewalk where he was standing.&nbsp; Govinda had just taken a selfie with his long-lost former college classmate Suman Bandhu Koirala with whom he used to organise nationwide Mathematics Olympiads. The two had not seen each other for 20 years after Suman Bandhu went for his PhD in the United States.&nbsp; Unlike other students who paid no heed to stateless classmates from Bhutan like Rijal, Koirala was different. &nbsp;The two had lost touch, but met again on Sunday, 5 May at the Tribhuvan University campus in Kirtipur.&nbsp; “We hadn’t met for such a long time, and chatted all day, reminiscing about our student days and planned to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-stands-with-bhutanese-refugees-in-nepal" target="_blank">spread awareness about the Bhutan refugee</a> issue,” Suman Bandhu recalls, his voice breaking with emotion.&nbsp; It was just before 3PM and the two decided to take a selfie on the pavement in front of the Ayurved Hospital in Kirtipur. Just then, a scooter sped out of the parking lot into the main road, an approaching commuter bus that swerved to avoid it overturned, slithering sideways on the asphalt into people on the sidewalk.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240510040524_83e30321d778d5b8e7c609538a2b3f3eaccf1c6b7b9245cb1762e8700990e859.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240510040524_83e30321d778d5b8e7c609538a2b3f3eaccf1c6b7b9245cb1762e8700990e859" data-rendition-name="original" width="1998" height="1028" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutanese refugee freak accident"> <figcaption>The sidewalk outside the Ayurved Hospital at Kiritpur where the bus hit Govinda, killing him on 5 May. Photo courtesy: Nepal Khabar </figcaption> </figure>  Govinda was seriously injured, and died later in Kirtipur Hospital. “He took out his phone and had just taken a couple of selfies when we heard this terrible sound and saw an overturned bus coming towards us, I managed to get out of the way but Govinda was not quick enough,” Suman Bandhu recalls. The photos are still in Govinda’s mobile phone and perhaps one day we will be able to see the self-portrait he took an instant before he was hit.&nbsp; During the cremation at Pashupati the next day Govinda’s fellow refugees spoke of him as a generous friend who placed the interests of others before himself — a sensitive poet, committed activist, and an accomplished agriculture scientist.&nbsp; “He was one of the few among us refugees who was an intellectual and an academic,” said Tilak Rai, another refugee who stayed behind in Beldangi. “He attended every Literature Society of Bhutan event at camp or memorials to fellow refugees like the physician <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/no-one-to-care-for-doctor-who-cared-for-everyone" target="_blank">Bhampa Rai</a>.”&nbsp; Govinda got married to classmate Shanta Karki who is now a joint secretary at the Ministry of Agriculture in Kathmandu, and he has written about her in his 2018 book, A Pardesi in Paradise. In it, he ruminates about the concept of ‘homeland’, especially after his parents and ounger brother Shiva Lal opted for <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/letter-to-my-kindergarten-daughter" target="_blank">resettlement in the US</a>.&nbsp; ‘America has not been the homeland my family expected. I got news that after my father lost his job and started losing his memory. Other relatives are working day and night to pay car and house loans. Other refugees are so stressed and depressed that they are under medication and need pills to sleep,’ he wrote. ‘That is why my dream, my goal and future are tied up here. Wherever I am, wherever I go I am always an outsider, but that is my Golden Land.’&nbsp; Tara Lal Shrestha, who edited the book, said: “Govinda moved around everywhere on his bicycle. He found Nepal to be unlike any other place because it was so welcoming of people seeking refuge. Nepal may have been his Golden Land, but it was not his final destination. He was in transit to heaven.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240510040524_aac8771f3b69cbc5a7ccc68fc2730aaf1055330bb0b2ad04b4dc9a7e191c820e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20240510040524_aac8771f3b69cbc5a7ccc68fc2730aaf1055330bb0b2ad04b4dc9a7e191c820e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1221" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutanese refugee accident"> <figcaption>Govinda’s bicycle helmet and bicycle. Photos: Sanjiv Balami / Facebook</figcaption> </figure>  Govinda talked about Beldangi fondly, almost nostalgically, as a safe haven: “Despite its bamboo huts and clay plaster walls, the well water that smelled of iron, and the joy of getting hold of &nbsp;kerosene or rice after standing in line, Beldangi was a refuge. I want to write a book about this chapter in my life.” Last year, after Govinda heard that his parents were not well in America, he tried to get travel documents to see them for the last time. For six months he was given the run around by Nepali officialdom. As soon as those behind desks heard he was a refugee, they would ask “<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/scapegoating-a-champion-of-democracy" target="_blank">Real or fake?</a>”&nbsp; At the Home Ministry in Kathmandu, they did not even want to look at him after he said he was a refugee. After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/losing-our-moral-compass" target="_blank">fake refugee scandal </a>broke last year, Nepal has stopped issuing travel documents to Bhutan citizens in Nepal. Govinda was still trying to get his papers to see his parents when he was killed this week. Ailing parents in America who were waiting to see him one last time are now performing funeral rituals.&nbsp; Recently, he visited refugee leader <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/bhutan-s-refugees-between-hope-and-despair" target="_blank">Teknath Rijal</a> while the Amnesty International Prisoner of Conscience was still in detention after <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-tragedy-of-tek-nath-rizal-2g4dahmr" target="_blank">being framed</a> for his involvement in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rot-at-the-top" target="_blank">fake refugee scandal</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240510040524_761c6b03cc6e0f9dba9a4c76aec9803aba9682c8fe47952ab802c79e48fdebfc.png" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20240510040524_761c6b03cc6e0f9dba9a4c76aec9803aba9682c8fe47952ab802c79e48fdebfc" data-rendition-name="original" width="1180" height="760" loading="lazy" alt="Bhutanese refugee freak accident"> <figcaption>Photo: Ashok Budathoki / Facebook</figcaption> </figure>  Govinda had arrived on his bicycle from his house in Tokha, and brought some avocado from his garden. He had started writing his book, Beldangi: A Refuge, and recited its beginning paragraphs in Nepali: ‘I arrived in a place called Beldangi after taking a bus from Damak Chok on the last day of February 1993, looking for the hut of my father Chandra Lal and mother Devi Maya. They had left Bhutan one year before me. At the bus stop and all around, I met fellow refugees. I used to see them in Bhutan and had always regarded them as proud citizens. But here, they were stateless nobodies. I had only seen the word ‘refugee’ in books, now I was one myself.&nbsp; People got on and off the bus as we travelled towards Beldangi camp. At the edge of a forest there was a row of bamboo and thatch huts. How do I find my parents here, I thought.’

In transit to the Golden Land

At an auto rickshaw stand in Jumla, Kalpana Budha stood out among a crowd of male drivers as she strode confidently towards her three-wheeler, ready to face another workday ferrying passengers.&nbsp;
What is striking about Kalpana in this socially conservative region of northwestern Nepal is not just the self-assured attitude, but also that she is the sole female auto driver and proud of it. Many do a double take when they see her driving around, her sari waving behind her, and gaze at her in admiration.
Kalpana's first day on the job was quite the opposite. Other rickshaw operators gave her dark looks, whispering behind her back. Neighbours spread unkind gossip.
“In the beginning, people hated seeing me do what they told me was a man’s job,” the 32-year-old single mother recalls. At the time, people in this deeply patriarcal society would also bring up her separation from her husband to belittle and undermine her.&nbsp;
She adds, “Those were different times but now, most people tell me what a good of a job I am doing.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/life-cycle">Life cycle</a>, Sonia Awale
Kalpana was married off by her family when she was only 13, but it did not last. Her husband abandoned her to pursue another relationship merely 17 days after she had her baby, and she was left alone with the responsibility of raising a child.&nbsp;
The young mother then returned to her parents' house in Kalokholi village with a newborn, wondering how she would be able to support herself and her child. The stigma of single motherhood made it doubly difficult, but it was her brother Subhash who suggested she take up <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/business/City-safari-in-rickshaw,2784">rickshaw driving</a>.
Kalpana went to Surkhet to learn how to operate an auto rickshaw and obtained her driving licence. She then borrowed Rs600,000 and bought her own rickshaw six years ago.&nbsp;
Daily earnings are modest, but business booms during the apple season in September when orchard owners hire her to haul fruit. Pilgrims to nearby Chandannath Temple, or those going to the hotsprings in Tatopani are her main customers.&nbsp;
In the years since she bought her vehicle, Kalpana has paid half of her debt and has been able to enrol her son in private school.
She has now shifted her attention to teaching other women to operate rickshaws, and become self-sufficient economically.
“I have realised that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/women-standing-above-the-ground">women can make a living however they choose</a>, be it operating a rickshaw, a convenience store, or a sidewalk food stall, you just have to not care what people say behind yourback," she says. “All we need is determination."
So far, Kalpana has found little interest among the women in her community to take up rickshaw driving. Two women did initially commit to learning, but one of them did not show up for lessons and the other gave up halfway through training.
"When I asked around about why she had stopped coming, I came to find out that her husband had reprimanded her for trying to learn how to drive," she recalls.&nbsp;
There are more than 500 <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/women-in-the-driving-seat">women who drive electric Safa three-wheelers in Kathmandu</a>, many of whom also own their own vehicles. Some have moved on to buy taxis and run driving schools.&nbsp;
Female three-wheel drivers in Kathmandu have dissuaded many Nepali <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/female-migrant-workers-hold-up-half-the-sky">women from migrating overseas for work</a> by providing a self-sustaining alternative at home.
“Even if there were just three more women rickshaw operators in Jumla, it would send the message that women can make their own way in the world,” says Kalpana.&nbsp;
Indeed, despite patriarchy Jumla was one of the few municpalities in Nepal after the 2017 elections where <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/holding-up-the-whole-sky-in-jumla">both the mayor and deputy were women</a>.
Now, women like Kalpana are proof that societal norms and male discouragement does not have to be an obstacle.&nbsp;
“I spent many a day crying, questioning if it was worthwhile to live this kind of life,” she recalls. “But I realised that everyone goes through their own hardships, but what is important is to not give up. As long as we women can work, we do not have to be ashemed of anyone.”
Kalpana certainly did not give up. In fact, she is expanding her business and buying another three-wheeler. &nbsp;

Kalpana's auto autonomy

Top news

As the planet heats up, mass migration will cause the next big movement of people worldwide. Millions will flee the tropics and move up the mountains to escape heat waves and rising seas. 
Some of this is already happening. Vector-borne insects like mosquitoes are also moving to higher altitudes so that malaria, dengue and kala azar are now widespread in the Nepal's mountain towns.
Excerpts of a report on kala azar published in Nepali Times 20 years ago this week on issue #195 7-13 May 2004.
In the village of Juri near Janakpur, Ram Sewak Adhikari says half his extended family of 35 has kala azar. His wife died of the diseases, after he sold his plot of land to pay for her care, leaving him destitute. Unable to take care of his 10-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter, he sent them to live with a maternal uncle. Now he doesn’t have a home and goes wherever work is available.
Kala azar is relatively unknown among Nepal’s many diseases, and therefore may be the most neglected. It belongs to a disease group called leishmaniasis which has a wide range of clinical symptoms: cutaneous, monocutanesous and visceral. These symptoms include highly undulating fever, weight loss, fatigue, abdominal pain, cough and diarrhoea. . The local name means ‘black sickness’, because the skin of some patients darkens.
Of kala azar cases, 90% occur in Bangladesh, India, Nepal and Sudan. DDT used in India by the National Malaria Eradication Program in the 1940s ravaged the sandfly population and also interrupted the transmission of kala azar. By the mid- 1950s, no new cases were recorded and in the mid-1960s it had become an almost forgotten diseases in the country.
However, when the national malaria campaign was interrupted, kala azar reappeared in 1970 in Bihar. Soon, kala azar appeared in Bangladesh and shortly afterwards it entered Nepal’s Tarai and the disease is now present in 13 districts in Nepal bordering Bihar.
For archived material of Nepali Times of the past 20 years, site search: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/">nepalitimes.com</a>

Climbing mountains

Raju Acharya from Nepal is one of the winners of the Whitley Award to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lesser-known-endangered-species">protect owls</a> in central Nepal after spearheading a government-backed ten-year plan to safeguard the birds which had been overlooked from conservation efforts. Acharya is the founder of Friends of Nature, a Kathmandu-based environmental group and was instrumental in driving The Owl Conservation Action Plan in 2020 which addresses threats to owls from hunting, illegal trade, and habitat loss.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-conservationist-wins-whitley-award">The Whitley Award</a> funding will help boost initiatives in central Nepal, home to the greatest density of birds and 19 of the country’s 23 owl species. Acharya received the award on 1 May at the Royal Geographical Society in a ceremony that marks three decades since the very first Whitley Award was presented.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240502050536_0508980af73328b90b5f18d7d03e4152ff685532992cc94e64ad6de3bff4e979.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240502050536_0508980af73328b90b5f18d7d03e4152ff685532992cc94e64ad6de3bff4e979" data-rendition-name="original" width="1128" height="746" loading="lazy" alt="Raju Acharya Whitley Award NT"> <figcaption>Raju Acharya receiving the Whitley Award in London on Tuesday from Britain's Princess Royal for his work preserving owls in Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Sir David Attenborough, WFN Ambassador and a long-term supporter of the charity, said the growing network of winners represents some of the best conservation leaders in the world: “Whitley Award winners combine knowing how to respond to crises yet also bring communities and wider audiences with them." Raju has spent decades shoring up support for Nepal’s owls which include the jungle owlet, rock eagle owl and Eurasian eagle owl – all of which are currently listed as Least Concern or Data Deficient under the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List.&nbsp; Raju’s work addresses the danger of focusing conservation efforts solely on highly threatened flagship species. Threats to the owls are significant: the birds are the subject of an illicit trade in central Nepal, with 1,500 owls hunted or traded each year in Nepal.&nbsp; Owls represent good or bad omens in central Nepal, with s Some people associate them with death, while in other areas, owl feathers are regarded as sacred objects that can ward off evil.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240502030548_d206a97966188c4b99d27bb508d580372f5401a1fc078cae3e75ec1eb490e989.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240502030548_d206a97966188c4b99d27bb508d580372f5401a1fc078cae3e75ec1eb490e989" data-rendition-name="original" width="3024" height="1702" loading="lazy" alt="Owl conservation in Nepal"> </figure>  Hunting by teenagers using catapults and habitat loss are other threats to the owls amid the felling of old trees whose cavities are crucial nesting sites for the birds. Forest makes up one-third of this region. Older trees also act as roosting, den or hibernation sites for owls which struggle to find nesting locations in semi-urban areas. Acharya’s project aims to build on Nepal’s success in conservation which has harnessed the proactive participation of communities. He aims to foster collaboration between the ethnic groups to foster a broader understanding of owls to reduce the use of catapults, discourage the consumption of owl meat and advocate for adherence to the government regulations which protect the birds. His Whitley Award project will conduct training events to increase the capacity of law enforcement agencies, policymakers and “owl envoys” – local ambassadors for the owls - with a goal of reducing hunting and trade by 25%. Acharya will also address the use of catapults by students who hunt the owls by creating five catapult-free zones. He aims to raise awareness among students and the public by creating 100 conservation camps. The abundance of birds significantly increases in those areas with larger numbers of old trees. His team will restore and rehabilitate 1,200 hectares of owl habitat by protecting 500 old trees and installing 100 artificial nests in semi-urban areas. “The appreciation from local people and colleagues serves as constant inspiration for me to continue my work,” Acharya said. At the forefront of owl research in Nepal and known locally as “Owl Sir” for his efforts to draw attention to the plight of owls, Acharya hopes to engage early career scientists to join him on his mission.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240502030548_fd983316cfac9bef9a1a146a8976a2479171969fc3c86d0f898690184f2a8487.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240502030548_fd983316cfac9bef9a1a146a8976a2479171969fc3c86d0f898690184f2a8487" data-rendition-name="original" width="2304" height="1728" loading="lazy" alt="Owl conservation in Nepal"> </figure>  He also brings out a digital owl newsletter called Hapsilo, Raju set up the Nepal Owl Festival eleven years ago. The festival has boosted eco-tourism to the region and become one of the country’s biggest conservation events despite owls being lower priority species than tigers and snow leopards. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepali-conservationist-wins-whitley-again">The Whitley Fund for Nature</a> (WFN) is a UK charity supporting grassroots conservation leaders in the Global South. Over 30 years it has channelled £23 million to more than 200 conservationists across 80 countries. The other 2024 Whitley Award winners are: Fernanda Abra from Brazil who is pioneering the use of low-cost canopy bridges over highway BR-174 in the Amazon rainforest to restore connectivity for tree-dwelling mammals and save them from road collisions Naomi Longa from Papua New Guinea who is safeguarding coral reefs in Kimbe Bay and creating a network of marine protected areas led by local Indigenous women Aristide Kamla from Cameroon who is restoring the African manatee habitat in Lake Ossa, addressing threats from invasive species and pollution Kuenzang Dorji from Bhutan who is protecting the Endangered Gee’s golden langur and implementing solutions for farmers whose crops the primates are targeting. Leroy Ignacio from Guyana who is leading an expansion of one of the country’s first Indigenous-led conservation movements to protect the Endangered Red Siskin finch.

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