The cost of preserving Nepal’s past

Bottom

Turkish Airlines has received the World Class award by the Airline Passenger Experience Association (APEX) for the fifth consecutive year. The flag carrier of Türkiye was also recognised for the second consecutive year as Best in Class in the World Class Sustainability category and this year received the newly introduced Best in Class in the World Class Food &amp; Beverage Executions category.

World Class Turkish

Buddha Air is restarting Kathmandu-Kolkata flights on 19 October on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays on ATR-72s departing Kathmandu at 7am and returning from Kolkata at 9:20am. One-way fare is Rs13,353. &nbsp;

Buddha to Kolkata

Aloft Kathmandu Thamel was awarded Nepal’s Leading Hotel 2025 at the World Travel Awards Asia &amp; Oceania Gala, held in Hong Kong which has recognised outstanding achievement in travel, tourism and hospitality since 1993. “This achievement reflects the tireless commitment of our team to deliver unparalleled guest experiences,” said Aloft GM Vikram Singh.

Aloft on top

The past, the present, and the future are really one: they are today. -Harriet Beecher Stowe  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122609120_5c63a3201a7231b9334f98a3a1af867acfc1264e29fc3081810a565a270bde6f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="2700" loading="lazy" alt="Miss Moti #1241"> </figure>

The past, the present, and the future are really one

In the aftermath of the GenZ protests last month, as new PM Sushila Karki chose the first members of her Council of Ministers, youth collectives urged that it reflect the country’s diversity by including women, youth and people from various ethnic and socio-cultural backgrounds.&nbsp;
It took another couple of weeks for Karki to include &nbsp;bureaucrat and public health expert Sangeeta Mishra as &nbsp;Health Minister in her next tranche of ministers. Almost immediately, people dug up a video of Mishra calling herself “Nepali, but a native Indian”.
She was telling it like it was: Mishra is a naturalised Nepali citizen. But there was outrage in the ultra-nationalistic cybersphere. Mishra’s name was withdrawn from the list of ministers, with government officials citing an ongoing investigation at the CIAA.&nbsp;
With her Cabinet still incomplete a month after taking office, Prime Minister Karki was preparing to induct GenZ as ministers. A leak in the media floated the names, one of which was of Tashi Lhazom, a climate activist and filmmaker from Humla’s Limi Valley.&nbsp;
Almost immediately, social media erupted with discriminatory, xenophobic and misogynistic epithets against her: that she supported a separatist movement, that she was a foreign agent, that her citizenship was disputed, that she did not ‘look’ or ‘speak’ like a Nepali.&nbsp;
Political figures like Gyanendra Shahi, a prominent voice calling for the restoration of a Hindu monarchy, added fuel to the fire by making bigoted and false remarks about her heritage.
The former Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission, Mohna Ansari, wrote on social media that it was shameful to question Lhazom’s identity: ‘Ms Tashi Lhazom is as Nepali as you are. Our society’s ugliest face and biggest flaw is doubting our own. Real patriotism embraces diversity — fake nationalism must end.’
Ansari, a human rights lawyer and activist, has also often been subject to Islamophobic and derogatory comments on digital platforms. &nbsp;
In response, the Indigenous GenZ Collective released Lhazom’s Nepali citizenship certificate to debunk the mistruths spreading on digital as well as mainstream media.
What makes a Nepali? What does a Nepali look or sound like? Who is a Nepali?
‘Had my name been Tashi Poudel, Thapa, Bhattarai or Ghimire, this would not have happened,’ Lhazom said in an interview with Kantipur following an avalanche of bigotry against her. ‘They questioned me because I do not look Nepali, or speak Nepali like a Khas. Because it is not my mother tongue.’
It is an indictment of Nepali society that indigenous Nepalis have to present proof, at the slightest inconvenience of mostly the dominant groups, of being a citizen of this nation simply because they might not fit into an imagined idea of Nepali nationhood by virtue of physical appearance, speech, geography, or faith.
And while we celebrate the successes of Nepal-born naturalised foreign citizens (some now hold elected office in the US) we refuse to afford the same respect to naturalised Nepali citizens, and those born in Nepal to excluded groups, nor do we expect them to work in the national interest if they are given responsibility to govern. And women are singled out twice as much for scrutiny.
Then cyber Nepal went into a tizzy when videos appeared of a biker’s group clad in black t-shirts emblazoned with the acronym ‘TOB’ which was interpreted to stand for ‘Tibetan Original Blood’ and linked to the Free Tibet movement.
The accusations snowballed into disinformation, xenophobia, and even calls for violence against Nepalis of Tibetan heritage and the Tibetan community in Nepal.&nbsp;
In the aftermath of the September protest, the hope was that politics and the bureaucracy would finally be rid of orthodox political actors. But first, we as a nation need to collectively examine the biases and bigotry that exist in Nepal’s socio-cultural space.&nbsp;
Otherwise, Nepal’s multiculturalism will be limited to just words in the Constitution and political tokenism.
No one who is in government now or in future can be expected to be completely free of subjective opinions, ideology, affiliation to a cause, or prior activism. And such criticism falls disproportionately on activists, advocates, and members from underserved and underrepresented communities.&nbsp;
One cannot be apolitical and hope to participate in politics, and as we move forward to rebuild the system it must not just reflect diverse communities, but also celebrate diversity of thought and beliefs.&nbsp;
Resorting to ethnocentrism, racism and chauvinism with conspiracy theories and discriminatory dog-whistling about fellow citizens is a disservice to Nepali nationhood. It is Nepal’s diversity that makes us strong.&nbsp;
Shristi Karki

What makes a Nepali?

Between Dasain rites and Tihar lights, the 21st edition of Surya Nepal Jazzmandu ended with a hearty deusi jam session at The Malla Hotel on Wednesday. The festival began last week with a concert for a lively young crowd at St Xavier’s School. Across town, the first bassline dropped at Jazz Upstairs with an impromptu ensemble as dusk fell over the city.&nbsp; Over the intervening days, Jazzmanduites faced a delightful dilemma of choosing between a lineup of intimate venues, each sending waves of music across the valley.&nbsp; “Because of the unrest, audiences from all over the world were inquiring and waiting for Jazzmandu,” said Navin Chettri, drummer of Cadenza Collective and co-founder of Jazzmandu. “The fact that they came was a testament to the power of music, and spoke of Nepal’s resilience.” German artist Leona Berlin’s R&amp;B was the one to watch, while cymbals echoed during the Swiss quartet mohs. set with Nu Jazz and neo-soul. The enthralling and soulful ragas from Jonisha Poudel rose over Patan’s brick courtyard as the sax joined in celebration. “Jazz was born from struggle and social unrest – and what emerged was something beautiful. In times like these, that spirit is something we can all aspire to,” said Jason Amirhadji, a first-time visitor to Nepal. Femke Smit and Mike Del Ferro from the Netherlands infused the air with the colourful, flowing spirit of Brazilian music. With Smit’s voice and Del Ferro on the piano, the audience was swaying to the music.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101044_387ec0041807e1fb237094607394533a0f0f940e297c56abf994cd3657ba9b06.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251017101044_387ec0041807e1fb237094607394533a0f0f940e297c56abf994cd3657ba9b06" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025 NT 1"> <figcaption>Nick Aggs. Photo: LOCHAN GYAWALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101044_5178d79872a2495b486e3933f19e29ea3ab2538ae3ce50ca6f7117b73646f5a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251017101044_5178d79872a2495b486e3933f19e29ea3ab2538ae3ce50ca6f7117b73646f5a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Femke Smit"> <figcaption>Femke Smit. Photo: ADITYA KHARE</figcaption> </figure>  “This is a synthesis between Nepali folk music and international jazz,” explained flautist Roshan Putwar before hopping on stage to play a soulful set. Putwar has researched Dāphā music and performed across the world. For the past weeks, the city’s pulse has been political: streets echoing with demands for change, there are still aftershocks of the upheaval that left the city weary and voices raw. And in the evenings, jazz acts too resonated with a quiet defiance. Musicians bent notes in response to the disquiet, and the audience imbibed it with eyes closed. “It takes great courage to come to Nepal after what happened and with the artists’ support we are able to revive unity and healing through music,” says festival co-organiser Samir Chettri, bassist of Cadenza Collective. “Music heals, and this festival brought positivity and peace among all.” The Cadenza Collective shared the stage with Australian saxophonist and composer Nick Aggs, a Brisbane native and member of the fusion group Afro Dizzi Act in a mix called Afrodenza.&nbsp; “It’s a privilege to play with musicians all over the world, especially with Cadenza because I’ve known the boys since 1999,” said Aggs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101048_944c4fb4be1d7d33cb7979ae57ccbb084d9eafffc4a48fa8690802049dcdf74a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251017101048_944c4fb4be1d7d33cb7979ae57ccbb084d9eafffc4a48fa8690802049dcdf74a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101048_a903986ea8a49881f5d94c05a23141db4800e11d6121afb0ece354feabb9bf9c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251017101048_a903986ea8a49881f5d94c05a23141db4800e11d6121afb0ece354feabb9bf9c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>  On Saturday, musicians and fans gathered for an open-sky Jazz Bazaar at Gokarna Forest Resort. Brazilian singer and composer Catia Werneck’s quartet got the audience on its feet to their bossa nova and samba tunes. “It’s the highest music festival in the world,” Werneck beamed. Every solo, every exchange between tabla and drums, sounded the amalgamation of east and the west here at the heart of Nepal. On Tuesday, the audience clapped and danced as a mix of artists performed songs like ‘Blues Selo’ and ‘Shiva’s Dance’, at Yalamaya Kendra in Patan. There were jazz fans who came to Kathmandu just for the music, like Namrata Raju from India. She said: “This was our second Jazzmandu. The artists were thoughtfully curated. There were people from all over the world, and the festival sets an example of music, peace and cultural appreciation”&nbsp; Chethana Salian from Oman agreed: “This is my first time at Jazzmandu, and what a fabulous way to let your hair down with some foot-tapping music. Added a bunch of the artists to my morning playlist, especially Cadenza Collective.” &nbsp; Cadenza’s Navin Chhetri sipped his beer, satisfied at the success of the festival: “Jazzmandu is becoming a tourism draw for musicians and audiences alike.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017101052_b4d1d7ff25f9c97c06f34916c6555a1ce5ccf415d3e7610d9ae6402e477b7bfe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017101052_b4d1d7ff25f9c97c06f34916c6555a1ce5ccf415d3e7610d9ae6402e477b7bfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="844" loading="lazy" alt="Jazzmandu 2025"> </figure>  The Samundra band representing Nepal’s Gandharva community opened the finale with rousing Tihar songs played on sarangi, flute and madal. Joelle Loretan from Switzerland, another first-timer in Nepal, spoke of the positivity of Nepalis: “The people here are so welcoming and in good spirits despite what they have been through.” &nbsp;

The healing power of music

In early 20th century, Prime Minister Chandra Shamsher Rana wanted to build a railway from the Indian border north towards Kathmandu to reduce the costs of transporting food and other supplies.&nbsp; It would also facilitate travel of thousands of Hindu pilgrims from India, who had to walk up to five days to reach Kathmandu to celebrate Shivaratri and other religious festivals. The plan was to bring a railway up to Dhursing, where a ropeway to Kathmandu had just been constructed. This would avoid the need to carry supplies on the backs of porters from Birganj to Bhimphedi then over Chandragiri Pass to the Valley. However, the costs of building a railway to Dhursing were found excessive because of the steep grades trains would encounter north of Amlekhganj.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_ffac8f6a5b41d2727ae92690ccced8da5d2684cc88d933c75b9c90f555956757.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025100404100_ffac8f6a5b41d2727ae92690ccced8da5d2684cc88d933c75b9c90f555956757" data-rendition-name="original" width="1554" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Mahabir, a unique Garratt locomotive, built in Manchester, England in 1932. Collection: RICHARD PELHAM</figcaption> </figure>  A Calcutta firm Martin &amp; Company surveyed and built the Nepal Government Railway (NGR) in one year at a cost of approximately 1.1 million Indian rupees. The 30 lb narrow-gauge rails, 2’ 6” apart, extended 29 miles from Raxaul, India to Birganj, Parwanipur, Jitpur, Simara and Amlekhganj. Prime Minister Chandra, his wife, other Rana officials, and King Tribhuvan attended the dedication ceremony in Raxaul on 16 February 1927. It was only the second time in history a Nepal king had stepped foot on foreign soil. The NGR began service with two steam locomotives, 4-6-0 tanks (indicating wheel arrangements) built in Leeds, England in 1926. They were given the auspicious names of Pashupati and Guhyeshwari. As traffic increased, the NGR later purchased Goraknath (in 1928), Mahabir, Krishna, Sita-Ram, and lastly Sri Bishnu (in 1949).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_864b56ea45c837a9b4110bccb2df09a0011b2e2ad20202b3f9d9316d2b4fdce5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025100404100_864b56ea45c837a9b4110bccb2df09a0011b2e2ad20202b3f9d9316d2b4fdce5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1523" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorarkhnath on a bridge north of Birganj in 1958. Photo: DEREK CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Railway engines embodied a religious-cultural significance besides their secular importance as mechanisms of transportation. These engines later ran on the Janakpur Railway as well. A British citizen, W S Pedrick was the NGR’s chief officer from 1927 to 1941. Tek Jung Thapa then became NGR general manager until 1959, when Kulbir Singh KC replaced him. Devendra Singh KC took over in 1963. A Bengali, Radha Charan Bhattarchaya, lived in Birganj and worked as an accountant and auditor for the NGR for 25 years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404104_1d7e97674ebac55bf3634ce9e44fc3af617b1bac9cb7fc818278329f44bf7e62.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025100404104_1d7e97674ebac55bf3634ce9e44fc3af617b1bac9cb7fc818278329f44bf7e62" data-rendition-name="original" width="1051" height="1297" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Sardar Tek JungThapa, the Nepal Government Railway (NGR) general manager for many years. Photo: ANIL JUNG THAPA</figcaption> </figure>  The opening of the Tribhuvan Rajpath and the advent of air cargo services in the late 1950s took traffic away from the NGR. During 1956-57, the NGR carried 255,000 passengers and 60,000 tons of freight and made an estimated profit of 800,000 Indian rupees. By 1963-64, the railway transported only 66,450 passengers, 30,070 tons of goods and for the first time in its history operated at a loss of 151,000 rupees. Passenger service ended in June 1965, and all freight trains were suspended on 13 April 1968. A sporadic 5km 'freight shuttle service' between Birganj and Raxaul continued until the late 1980s.&nbsp; The NGR played an important role in Nepal’s commercial life. During 1937-38, the top four products imported into Nepal by value were cloth, iron, yarn, and cigarettes. Since Kathmandu was the largest market for imports, many of those and other products were loaded on NGR freight cars at Raxaul and transported to Amlekhganj, then by lorry to Dhursing, finally by ropeway to Kathmandu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_e3157ef1cd2ce312902d40178aa9d35cab1b9b23dfc0d0f37e77ce59b3df756d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025100404100_e3157ef1cd2ce312902d40178aa9d35cab1b9b23dfc0d0f37e77ce59b3df756d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1619" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Sita-Ram at Amlekhganj in 1958. Photo: DEREK CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Passenger traffic also was impressive. During World War II, the NGR did a booming business transporting Nepal Army troops to India for garrison duty and services abroad. For example, 6,000 soldiers from two Nepali brigades rode the NGR during March 1940. At the end of the war, Maharaja Juddha Shamsher stated that Nepal had sent 148,500 troops to India at British request. Many of those men rode the NGR on their return to Nepal in 1945. A 1936 document in Nepal’s National Archives shows the NGR had nearly 170 employees that year. Annual salaries for those in the General Department ranged from 1,200 Indian rupees (a medical officer) to nine sweepers at 102 rupees. In the Traffic Department, five station managers each received 384 rupees, while four trolley men got 132 rupees. The Engineering Department supervisor’s salary was 1,800 rupees, while eight guards were paid 120 rupees each. Locomotive drivers took home 300 rupees, firemen 204 rupees. The Ranas had outlawed unions, but with regime change in 1951, railway workers went on strike and submitted a list of demands to the government for higher salaries, more sick leave, free housing, and establishment of a provident fund. Nepali Congress Minister Bhadra Kali Mishra met with railway representatives and made promises, but workers were not satisfied and continued their protests throughout the 1950s, actions that Nepal’s Communist Party enthusiastically endorsed. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004031056_ef965e3369c8947dddd53fc69986ceff8ea0ae037474252e4ff3d2623df70fe8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251004031056_ef965e3369c8947dddd53fc69986ceff8ea0ae037474252e4ff3d2623df70fe8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1733" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway"> <figcaption>Mahabir with a freight train leaving Raxaul in 1964. Photo: FRITZ LEHMAN</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;In his book Prachin Sansmaran, Ram Mani Dixit tells how he and a party of Nepali officials and soldiers were entrusted with 1,530 boxes of Indian currency worth nine million rupees to deliver to the Calcutta mint in 1939. A special NGR train left Amlekhganj with the treasure, but being heavily overloaded, the train rapidly gained speed, and Dixit and the party became alarmed and began crying “Narayan, Narayan” in fear. The driver lost control, the train derailed, soldiers were thrown from the wagons, and silver coins were scattered in the jungle. Dixit and his colleagues managed to escape through the coach windows with only bumps and bruises. The NGR repeatedly faced several problems in operating its trains. Its engines could run on wood, but coal was the preferred fuel, and coal supplies from India sometimes were interrupted.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404104_1b5c40eb721f6d1c019764a7208ef93883374261f3823bf82606ca0599a12546.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025100404104_1b5c40eb721f6d1c019764a7208ef93883374261f3823bf82606ca0599a12546" data-rendition-name="original" width="1548" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorarkhnath taking water at Simara. Photo: DEREL CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  By the 1940s, spare parts for its locomotives were hard to obtain from England, and its 30 lb. rails could not support heavier equipment that would allow more efficient and less costly operations. While mechanics with only on-the-job training performed heroically to keep broken-down equipment repaired and in service, regular maintenance was neglected, and the Ranas took no steps to invest the amounts needed to modernise the railway. Nor did matters improve with the advent of democracy in 1951. Nepal’s First Five-Year Plan (1956-1961) for the transportation sector focused its attention and provided funds for building roads and airports. In Nepal’s transportation family, railways were the sano bhai, even the sautini bhai. However, the NGR was not forgotten, and several studies were conducted from 1952 to 1971 to consider what should and could be done with the NGR. A report by Indian railway officials in 1952 described the alternatives: rehabilitate the NGR at minimal cost; rehabilitate it as a permanent measure; convert the line to a metre-gauge railway, extend the existing narrow-gauge line from Amlekhganj to Hetauda after rehabilitating the entire system; or construct a new metre-gauge line to Hetauda.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_16b15ff70330db854836323a6827b53ceec5cbc14691748f7cdf61b9dd767e22.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025100404100_16b15ff70330db854836323a6827b53ceec5cbc14691748f7cdf61b9dd767e22" data-rendition-name="original" width="1525" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Gorakhnath heading toward Birganj. Children around the world are fascinated by the sight and sound of steam locomotives. Photo: DAVID CROSS</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal adopted the last and most expensive alternative, but all that was accomplished was a survey of a new line to Hetauda. There were no efforts to implement the ambitious project or to secure the necessary funding. As the NGR rapidly deteriorated after 1956, newspaper stories and editorials rallied to support the railway and criticised government inaction. A 1959 article claimed that 'ill-feeling and disunity are prevalent among railway employees, and this has resulted in inefficient service causing anxiety and inconveniences for passengers. Local people who know the inside stories of the Railway are afraid to make a journey even up to one station.' In 1964, another paper wrote: 'The Nepal Government Railway is no more than a heap of scrap iron. The number of passengers is negligible. The Government has become completely indifferent towards the condition of the railway.'  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251004031056_c27b470a52bf8f66d7d56fef8bcbf1e3d74d997c5fd66d7e9e3085f322e7de92.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20251004031056_c27b470a52bf8f66d7d56fef8bcbf1e3d74d997c5fd66d7e9e3085f322e7de92" data-rendition-name="original" width="1519" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>Shri Bishnu under repair at Birganj. Photo: JOHN BENSON</figcaption> </figure>  Another article charged: 'The NGR has reached a stage of total ruination… Employees never receive their salaries in time… The train starts with ticketless passengers. No government authority ever inspects this wretched transport [system]... It is painful to note that we cannot improve the condition of such a small railway. We appeal to the Government…to improve the condition of this railway.' A 1965 World Bank study of Nepal’s transportation needs provided the coup de grace. It recommended the NGR be abandoned, as the cost of rehabilitation was excessive and did not solve the problem of incompatible track gauges at Raxaul, which necessitated transferring by hand freight from India Railway’s metre-gauge wagons to NGR’s narrow-gauge wagons. Nevertheless, Indian technicians completed surveys and submitted reports to Nepal in 1967 for rehabilitating the NGR, but by then the situation was hopeless: the railway was losing 300,000 rupees a year. Yet a few government officials continued to advocate for broad gauging the then-defunct NGR and extending it to Hetauda.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025100404100_9c70a2962fba05a9dbf239efd539adb42663070594bcc014bf84c9f2d1a05329.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025100404100_9c70a2962fba05a9dbf239efd539adb42663070594bcc014bf84c9f2d1a05329" data-rendition-name="original" width="1504" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Life and times of Nepal Government Railway NT"> <figcaption>The former NGR station at Amlekhganj in 2017. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  Again, Indian engineers conducted a survey for such a 52-mile broad-gauge, electric line in 1971 and submitted a reportto the government. They estimated the project would cost at least $200 million plus $60 million more for rolling stock. India’s Railway Ministry promptly concluded it was not a viable project, and the report died in Nepal’s byzantine bureaucracy. It seems some dreams never die, and hope springs eternal. In April 2018, the prime ministers of India and Nepal met in New Delhi and agreed to build an electric rail line from Raxaul to Kathmandu and that India would conduct the studies and pay the full costs of construction. That was seven years ago. No rails have yet been laid. Costs continue to escalate, and no guaranteed funding has been secured. Will we ever see electric broad-gauge trains arriving in Kathmandu? Certainly not in this author’s lifetime, but then he is no longer a young man. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read aoslo: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/nepal-s-five-little-railways">Nepal’s five little railways</a>, Dan Edwards Dan Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. This is the second instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal.

Life and times of Nepal Government Railway

Featured videos

The<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof"> flood on the Bhote Kosi</a> on Tuesday morning was a timely reminder about the risks Himalayan communities face from melting permafrost and glaciers, as well as the need for transboundary early warning. In the spring of 2024, I visited the Kanchenjunga Conservation Area (KCA) again. While in the village of Kampuchen (4,145) I visited Nupu Sherpa, friend and owner of the Kampuchen White House Lodge, to share <a href="https://tc.copernicus.org/articles/18/711/2024/">a new paper we had just published</a> about a massive ice-debris avalanche that had occurred in 2022 in the upper Nupchu valley. Although Nupu was interested in the results and implications of the avalanche, he was even more concerned about the recent and rapid development of several large, pro-glacial lakes upon the terminus of the Kanchenjunga glacier, an hour walk north of Kampuchen and across the seasonal yak pasture of Ramdang Kharka (4,375m).&nbsp; Like many high altitude, low gradient glaciers in the Himalaya, those in the Kanchenjunga region had shrunk to mere shadows of their former selves during the previous 125 years, leaving behind debris-covered remnant ice and small meltwater ponds.&nbsp; Nupu’s fear was that the lakes might soon coalesce to form a large and potentially dangerous glacial lake. Given a large enough trigger, such as a massive landslide or avalanche, a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) could result that could damage Kampuchen, Ghunsa, Phale, the Kangchenjunga Base Camp trail, and even beyond to the lower Tamor into India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071204070_31e28d1fd0f5a976ad96fc5597cc386586d7de5b7d9714835d5b479104209fed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071204070_31e28d1fd0f5a976ad96fc5597cc386586d7de5b7d9714835d5b479104209fed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1635" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>The Kanchenjunga Conservation Area (KCA), eastern Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>  Since I was on my way to the village of Lhonak (4,792m) I stopped to take a look at the new lakes. Sure enough, from a lookout point on the lateral moraine of the Kanchenjunga Glacier I could see as many as ten newly formed and growing meltwater ponds upon the terminal moraine region of the glacier.&nbsp; The prospect was reminiscent of early satellite images taken of Imja Glacier in 1962 by the French, showing a number of meltwater ponds that within 15 years had grown and merged into a glacial lake half a square kilometer in size and containing 45 million cubic meters of water. Ten years after that Imja had grown to more than a square kilometer in size, was at least 120 m deep, and contained an estimated, and growing, 90 million cubic meters of water. Would the same scenario play out for the lower Kanchenjunga Glacier? To try and understand the situation better, glaciologist Sonam Wangchuk of ICIMOD put together a time series composite of lake development over time, from 2016 to 2024, where it was clear that the majority of the new lakes had only formed since 2019.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071204078_c65a5ec574a251489c502f3efdf842033e0d238fd57947f7eee2c5793aac2a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071204078_c65a5ec574a251489c502f3efdf842033e0d238fd57947f7eee2c5793aac2a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="602" height="686" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Time-lapse satellite images of glacial lake development from 2016 to present. Animation of the process can be seen at https://www.mdpi.com/article/10.3390/w17101457/s1.</figcaption> </figure>  Sonam Rinzin of Newcastle University estimated the potential depth and volume of the future glacier lake using standard procedures based upon the surface slope of the Kanchenjunga Glacier combined with volume-area curves for similar glacial lakes, estimating that the future lake would have a volume of approximately 33 million cubic meters of water and depth of more than 116 m. Other modeling methods enabled the mapping of probable ice, debris, and/or rock avalanches into the lake that could trigger a GLOF.&nbsp; A third model was then used to simulate four different avalanche scenarios that could trigger a GLOF: from small (debris avalanche of 3 million cubic meters) to the worst case (15 million cubic meters) of fast-moving debris. Even under the small magnitude scenario, avalanche-triggered outburst floods would travel distances of almost 120km downstream, and under the worst-case scenario the floods would reach the Indo-Gangetic Plain and cross the border into India, damaging or destroying up to 90 buildings and 44 bridges. The prospective triggers of a future GLOF, however, are not limited to a nearby rock avalanche. A <a href="https://tc.copernicus.org/articles/11/443/2017/tc-11-443-2017.html">sudden release of water</a> from water-filled caves further up the glacier could trigger a surge wave capable of breaching the terminal moraine complex holding in the lake water.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040716_20ed87368a9ac416b5d0232cf8e02211195ca6bc9fff960a1f7e43a95bdfbbf9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250712040716_20ed87368a9ac416b5d0232cf8e02211195ca6bc9fff960a1f7e43a95bdfbbf9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1621" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools"> <figcaption>Theoretical Kangchenjunga glacial lake of the future (blue) contained by a front moraine (purple) with a flood possibly triggered by a massive rock avalanche (red).</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-not-so-permanent-frost">Weakening permafrost</a> at the highest altitudes could result in massive ice-debris avalanches, such as those believed to have triggered recent and catastrophic floods in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-the-seti-disaster">Seti River</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">Barun Khola</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/non-climate-cause-of-nanda-devi-flood">Chamoli</a>, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sikkim-flood-is-warning-to-nepal">South Lhonak lake</a>, and Tuesday’s Bhote Kosi flood in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rasuwa-flood-likely-a-glof">Rasuwa</a>. Weakening and eventual collapse of the terminal moraine complex through sub-surface piping could also result in an outburst flood. And a range of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-mountains-are-melting">cascading processes</a> currently unknown to scientists could trigger a flood as well.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040712_76336a4597c08dd735e57b09ae9840b6bd3d89c85907bb39424d9e6f3163581e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20250712040712_76336a4597c08dd735e57b09ae9840b6bd3d89c85907bb39424d9e6f3163581e" data-rendition-name="original" width="740" height="565" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Jannu glacier in 1899. Note how the level of the debris-covered glacier reached the top of the lateral moraines over a hundred years ago. Photo: V. SELLA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250712040712_707dd365923a002e889c64a88796b445695ea9ca692ec639179bc70217ed63c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20250712040712_707dd365923a002e889c64a88796b445695ea9ca692ec639179bc70217ed63c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5184" height="3888" loading="lazy" alt="Meltpools in the Himalaya"> <figcaption>Jannu glacier in 2022. The remaining debris-covered glacier is now several hundred meters below the crests of the lateral moraines. Photo: E. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>  But will a large and potentially dangerous glacial actually form at the Kanchenjunga glacier? There’s really no way to tell at this point, although the rapid development of lakes since 2016 is a strong indicator that a large lake is in the process of forming. And rather than wait and see, our current uncertainty does not diminish the need for a more proactive approach to the development of a large glacial lake at some point in the near future. For example, the lower Kanchenjunga Glacier clearly needs to be regularly monitored over the coming years to keep track of glacial lake growth and potential hazards. This could be done by the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM), ICIMOD, or Kathmandu University with results regularly shared with local people and local governments.&nbsp; In fact, such a service could be developed into a program that is offered to other communities throughout highland Nepal who experience similar situations of glacial lake development, growth, and prospective danger, especially since most communities presently feel that they have no one to turn to for similar information. Inexpensive, locally appropriate, user-friendly early warning systems (EWS) need to be developed for the Kanchenjunga region now, instead of waiting for a tragedy to happen. While the different options and costs are being assessed, the installation of new cell towers in the upper Ghunsa Khola would assure that local residents have access to one of the most effective and proven EWS systems available: cell phones, combined with a lake level monitoring device that broadcasts data and connects to cell phone alarm systems.&nbsp; For example, hundreds of lives were saved when upstream witnesses called their family and friends downstream to warn them of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Anatom-of-a-Himalayan-tsunami,1330">Seti River flood</a> near Pokhara in 2014. New zoning policies that prohibit the construction of lodges and other infrastructure in high-risk floodplain regions need to be developed now. Where the infrastructure already exists, villages should be encouraged to install gabion rock-filled wire cages along susceptible river channel or river interfaces to divert the flow of water during a flood event, a method used successfully in both highland and riverine Nepal. Local and national hazard training and response programs need to be developed now. Several examples of excellent programs developed by different organisations in the upper Khumbu region exist that provide excellent models, such as those tested by the US Agency for International Development <a href="https://www.hillarymedal.com/Khumbu-Nepal-Local-Adaptation-Plan-of-Action-%20report.pdf">(USAID) and ICIMOD</a> between 2011 and 2015. Glacial lake reduction&nbsp; Nepal was recently awarded a $36.1 million award by the Green Climate Fund (GCF) to directly confront many of hazards from glacial lake outburst floods jointly implemented by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the DHM building on past successes at Tso Rolpa and Imja Lakes. There are some lessons learned over the past decades of field work based in Nepal and Peru: 1. The DHM wants to use the project to reduce GLOF risks in Kosi and Gandaki basins and glacial lake reduction programs are planned for Thulagi, Lower Barun, Lumding Tsho, and Hongu 2 glacial lakes.&nbsp; However, the planned lowering depth for Tso Rolpa in 2000 was 20m, with the project ending once 3m lowering was achieved due to lack of funds. Imja lake, which scientists also determined needed to be lowered by at least 20m, was in fact lowered by 3m in 2016 ‘because that’s what they did at Tso Rolpa’.&nbsp; If glacial lake reduction programs are to be implemented under the GCF program they should be based upon good science, and lowered to an effective depth, otherwise the activity will be a waste of funds. <a href="https://sinia.minam.gob.pe/sites/default/files/siar-%20ancash/archivos/public/docs/usaid_glacial_lake_handbookrfs_0-ilovepdf-%20compressed_0.pdf">Peru offers experience</a> for glacial lake lowering. 2. Although large glacial lakes (more than 1sq km) will always command the most media and even scientific attention, it has become abundantly clear in recent years that even small glacial lakes can be just as deadly, given the correct sequence of cascading events, rainfall, snowmelt, and/or other triggers.&nbsp; The 2017 <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10346-018-1079-9">Barun flood</a> and September 2024 <a href="https://www.stimson.org/event/the-%20thame-glof-disaster-climate-related-disaster-risk-management-in-the-high-himalayas/">Thame flood</a> are two excellent examples. Methods for assessing the flood risk of glacial lakes will need to be revised accordingly to include many of these smaller glacial lakes as well, in addition to the 21 large lakes already considered to be dangerous. 3. Existing and expensive EWS might benefit by some consideration of cheaper, more local, and possibly more effective alternatives. In 2015, for example, <a href="https://digitalcommons.macalester.edu/himalaya/vol37/iss2/7/">villagers</a> living below Tso Rolpa complained that they had no idea how the recently installed EWS worked, what it sounded like, and what to do in the event that it went off. With improved cell service and real-time lake level monitoring apps, local people could check on the lake whenever they wished, as opposed to waiting for some kind of communication from Kathmandu. 4. The GCF grant has the opportunity to become the ‘go to’ place for communities throughout highland Nepal to report any of their concerns related to glacial lakes and/or other observed cryospheric processes. This service could facilitate local people’s ability to adapt to, mitigate, or prevent a range of climate change-related hazards largely unknown to previous generations. Alton C Byers is a faculty research scientist at the Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR) University of Colorado at Boulder and has visited the KCA including a six-month residency in Ghunsa supported by the Fulbright Nepal Scholar Program. This article is largely based on Evolution of a Potentially Dangerous Glacial Lake on the Kanchenjunga Glacier, Nepal, Predictive Flood Models, and Prospective Community Response. <a href="https://doi.org/10.3390/w17101457">Water</a>, 2025. (Byers AC, Rinzin S, Byers E, Wangchuk S.)

Meltpools in the Himalaya

In 2023, northern India suffered record-breaking heat. In 2024, it broke its own record. In 2025, the Indo-Gangetic plains and the Nepal Tarai suffered a prolonged pre-monsoon heat wave and humidity, forcing closure of schools and workplaces. This week, <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/europe-heat-wave-intensifies-as-fresh-warnings-issued/live-73108302">southern Europe is suffering the worst heat wave</a> since temperature records began. Football matches, tennis tournaments have been affected, and tourist sites have been closed off. Qatar has ordered a midday work curfew for Nepali and other migrant workers are the maximum temperature this week touched 45°C.&nbsp; Kathmandu Valley experienced its highest temperature in 25 years in May 2024 at 35.3°C. This year, the maximum temperature exceeded 30°C on many days — heat that till a decade ago would be considered unusual. Rains in early June also meant that towns in the mountains sweltered under high heat plus humidity.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090748_6975cfc2ad573f3a09ca301a299a9e92a420da7f1c5c90b8e4d061a2053dcd3e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250703090748_6975cfc2ad573f3a09ca301a299a9e92a420da7f1c5c90b8e4d061a2053dcd3e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1935" height="801" loading="lazy" alt="maximum average temperature in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Source: DHM</figcaption> </figure>  Measuring just temperature does not give a true picture of how hot it is. When humidity is factored in, the heat index this summer has been much higher in northern India and Nepal. Also, the hotter the air temperature the higher the concentration of water vapour in it. “We feel it is getting hotter, and our statistics back that up,” says Shanti Kandel at the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology, which issued two heat wave warnings this year, compared to 11 last year. “We need more research to analyse how humidity is make this situation worse.” <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/india-faces-alarming-30-rise-in-moist-heat-stress-over-40-years-affecting-wide-swath-of-country-imd-study/articleshow/109376863.cms?from=mdr">A recent analysis</a> by the Indian Meteorological Department has found that heat stress in that country has increased by nearly 30% over the past 40 years. Similarly, India’s Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW) noted that cities like Delhi, Chandigarh, Jaipur, and Lucknow have experienced a 6-9% rise in relative humidity in the last decade.&nbsp; It also states that <a href="https://www.reuters.com/sustainability/climate-energy/majority-indian-districts-face-high-heatwave-risk-study-shows-2025-05-20/#:~:text=%22About%2057%20per%20cent%20of,usual%20number%20of%20heatwave%20days.">60% of Indian districts</a>, home to three-quarters of the country’s 1.3 billion people face a high to very high risk from extreme heat, with rising night-time temperatures and humidity. The heat index is also called ‘<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/north-indian-heat-wave-hits-nepal">wet-bulb temperature</a>’ and is a measure of how hot the human body feels when humidity levels are also high — usually much hotter than the recorded temperature. For example, a wet-bulb temperature of 35°C is considered the maximum limit of heat and humidity that humans can handle, beyond which the body cannot cool by perspiration, leading to death. One indicator of increasing humidity is a rise in average minimum temperature, and Nepal recorded the highest figure since 1981 last year, with a peak of 15.8°C. Higher minimum temperature denotes warmer nights, which in turn is an indication of heat stress caused by increasing humidity, which in turn is a result of global warming. Aside from higher average temperatures worldwide this year, what makes heat and humidity more unbearable is that cities are always hotter than their surroundings. This is due to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/preparing-for-kathmandu-s-heat-waves">urban heat island (UHI) effect</a> – for example the temperature inside Kathmandu’s Ring Road can be hotter by <a href="https://www.epa.gov/heatislands/what-are-heat-islands">up to 4°C during the daytime and by 1 to 3°C in the evening</a> compared to the outskirts. “Climate change is one reason for rising temperature, but there are other factors like increased heat in urban spaces due to concrete buildings and infrastructure, emissions from vehicles, industries, and home appliances,” explains urban planner Bhushan Tuladhar. He adds: “Much of this comes down to how we have developed our cities, not just our roads and buildings but also our water system, waste management, culture and customs as well as economy.” There is a feedback loop at work: as it gets hotter, more energy is used for fans, coolers, and air-conditioners which in turn add to the urban heat bubble. The way to reduce the UHI effect is to have more parks, tree-lined streets and water bodies to cool cities down.&nbsp; <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S2212095525002093">A recent study published in the journal Urban Climate</a> by Nepali researchers at the University of Massachusetts, Tribhuvan University, University of Groningen, etc showed that even within Kathmandu, urban forests cooled neighbourhoods by as much as 1.2°C while ponds reduced the temperature by up to 0.85°C compared to nearby houses.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250703090748_e4de75dbdfb5fcfdeb0935eda364dc16b5dca8857ba335ab0f4586ebdc5093a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250703090748_e4de75dbdfb5fcfdeb0935eda364dc16b5dca8857ba335ab0f4586ebdc5093a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2580" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="urban heat island in Kathmandu"> <figcaption>Source: URBAN CLIMATE et al.</figcaption> </figure>  ‘Our results demonstrate that blue-green spaces provide significant cooling benefits across the Kathmandu Valley, with distinct patterns by type, size, design, and urban context,’ concluded the paper, whose lead author is Saurav Bhattarai at Jackson State University in the United States. The old towns in Kathmandu Valley with traditional brick and tile architecture, ponds and trees managed hot summers better. Compact houses around a courtyard gave people just the right amount of sunlight, and use of clay mortar and bricks insulated houses in winter while cooling them in summer. There were open spaces, fertile land along the floodplains for farming, and brick pavements that allowed for seepage. “Our cities were planned taking nature into account,” says Sangeeta Singh, a professor of urban planning at the Institute of Engineering. “Kathmandu Valley is now built up, but we can still reintegrate blue-blue spaces into town planning with vertical gardening, urban forestry, using local material and harvesting rainwater.”&nbsp; Kathmandu’s municipalities have by-laws controlling building design and structure, but strict enforcement of land use and zoning are missing. Extreme heat disproportionately affects the urban poor who may not have access to fans or air-conditioners, exacerbating poverty.&nbsp; Cities in the plains have it even worse. As heat and humidity rise simultaneously, it could <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/garmi-se-behal-chalo-nepal">reverse the current mass migration</a> of people from the mountains to the Tarai, where 53% of Nepal’s population lives. <a href="https://thedocs.worldbank.org/en/doc/92fbbbc6180238e18e7b239fad83e38a-0280032024/original/12-DHNT-Temperature-poverty-inequality-September-2024.pdf">A World Bank study</a> put the cost of a 1°C rise in temperature at 17.1% increase in poverty globally. Estimates put the total number of urban poor in developing countries exposed to the worst heat extremes at 26 million presently, this number is bound to grow to 215 million by mid-century, an over eight-fold increase. Meanwhile, 489,000 health-related deaths occur each year, 45% of them in Asia alone. “Heat has to be seen from a class perspective,” says Singh. “Those with money can afford gadgets and appliances to keep their homes and offices cool, but not day labourers or poor families living in cramped housing with poor ventilation.” Climate breakdown is going to widen the class divide in cities, as <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/unthinkable-in-the-current-climate">summers become unliveable</a>. Says Singh: “We need policy intervention to address this class injustice. Our building by-laws and new town development must urgently integrate climate and energy efficiency elements.”

In the heat of the moment

On the afternoon of 28 May, a massive glacier avalanche destroyed the idyllic village of Blatten in the Valais region of Switzerland. Footage of the disaster rapidly circulated around the world, sparking renewed conversation about the increasing instability of the mountain cryosphere and climate-related risks. The population of nearly 300 people had been evacuated a week prior due to concerns that unstable slopes above the glacier could trigger a catastrophic event. This is remarkable, and a testament to the value of hazard monitoring and anticipatory action. Shocked by the intensity of avalanche impacts and devastating loss, people struggled to comprehend the alternative: what if the village had been full? In Nepal, the people of the Langtang Valley, survivors of a massive glacier avalanche that killed over 300 people in April 2015, know exactly what it feels like for an entire village to be <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/may/17/nepal-earthquake-langtang-village-everyone-was-dead">‘wiped off the map’</a> in a little more than a minute. The avalanche that buried the village of Langtang was similarly catastrophic, as the avalanche fell over 3,000m and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/19/world/asia/nepal-avalanche-langtang.html">carried nearly as much force as the Hiroshima atomic bomb</a>. Unfortunately, the people of Langtang had no warning. While these two disasters are quite different, there are some important connections between them. As the world contemplates the threat of increasing climate-related glacier hazards and wonders if and how Blatten will rebuild, I would like to draw attention to the ever-present risk of similar disasters in the Himalayas, where the scale of the problem is (arguably) larger and resources are (inarguably) more limited. As events like these become increasingly common, we need to build monitoring and <a href="https://www.undrr.org/implementing-sendai-framework/sendai-framework-action/early-warnings-for-all">early warning systems for all</a> at-risk communities. We also need more comparative analysis of the ways mountain people make sense of climate-related risks, particularly around wicked questions like hazard zoning and resettlement or relocation. How do institutions determine where to invest in hazard monitoring and early warning systems? Who gets to decide where people can rebuild, what kind of risks are ‘acceptable’, or whose uncertainties matter? As a survivor of the Langtang disaster and an applied anthropologist, this is not a thought exercise for me. I spent more than two years working with the Langtangpa community as a volunteer, and the last ten years conducting research focused on the aftermath of the Langtang avalanche and the ways people cope with disaster and climate risk in the Himalayan region. Since late 2022, I have been <a href="https://www.stimson.org/project/early-warning-systems-for-cascading-disasters-in-nepal/">working with the Stimson Center </a>to consider how we might build systems to assess and monitor the changing risks of cascading hazards in the Himalayan region. As the Swiss and a range of international organizations consider how they might provide warning for other Alpine villages living beneath glaciers, we need to expand the conversation to consider the many Himalayan villages that are similarly at-risk. The question of climate causality currently haunts the Blatten disaster -- just as it has for other similar events in recent years, including the Langtang avalanche. While attribution is incredibly complicated, many scientists have already highlighted the ways that melting permafrost and loss of seasonal snowcover and glacial mass created instability in the overall system above the Birch Glacier on Kleines Nesthorn. Not all glaciers are receding. In Blatten, recurring slope failures had also been piling debris on the glacier slowly over the years, pushing the ‘glacier tongue’ forward and weakening its integrity – and this acceleration attracted attention and focused monitoring. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7334623807573278721/">A recent post from Christian Huggel, a leading cryosphere scientist based at University of Zurich</a> examined these details and clearly stated: “Considering all these processes it would be absurd, ignorant or dishonest to state that anthropogenic warming has not played any role in the ice-rock avalanche disaster in <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/search/results/all/?keywords=%23blatten&amp;origin=HASH_TAG_FROM_FEED">Blatten</a>. Interestingly, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2025/jun/01/this-is-ground-zero-for-blatten-the-tiny-swiss-village-engulfed-by-a-mountain">other scientists have indicated that “exact attribution is almost beside the point.”</a> Tellingly, it took almost ten years for formal scientific recognition (see <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/s43247-024-01624-z">this Nature paper published in 2024</a>) in part because it was seismically triggered, overshadowing the climate-related signal.That said, many Langtangpa highlighted these connections immediately after the disaster, as many are doing in Blatten right now. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-courage-and-endurance-of-the-langtangpa">My friends in Langtang have spent the last ten years rebuilding their lives</a> while wondering if another event of this magnitude might be possible.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250607140612_5ccfd4786416a151e1c2d44f79add3c196da34e1c30af9188de10982b45d72f8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="885" loading="lazy" alt="Blatten NT"> <figcaption>Copernicus statellite image of the avalanche that buried the village Blatten in Switzerland on 28 May, 2025.</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250607140616_306112d2eb5330d0a5117bae3fc372861afce5137b52f793285e6b1cf89ca31a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1733" height="1053" loading="lazy" alt="Langtang NT"> <figcaption>The deadly earthquake-triggered avalance that destroyed Langtang village in Nepal on 25 April, 2015.</figcaption> </figure>  Like the people of the Swiss Alps, the Langtangpa have been living with avalanches for centuries, and they have used both situated knowledge and practical systems to adapt to changing risks. But, in Langtang as in Blatten, the scale and impact of this singular tragedy was both unprecedented and unforeseen. Tellingly, Langtang was not a scientific hinterland: groups from a dozen different countries were conducting glaciological, hydrological, and climatological research there prior to the disaster. Blatten is a case where the scientists knew where to look. But even in relatively well-studied places like Langtang, disasters can emerge in our blind spots.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lives-on-the-line-in-the-himalaya">Last year’s Thame glacial lake outburst flood</a> (GLOF) also began in an overlooked and understudied area – <a href="https://www.stimson.org/2024/rethinking-himalayan-cryosphere-risk-assessment-in-the-wake-of-nepals-thame-disaster/">prompting scientists to rethink the ways we assess glacial lakes</a>. Issues related to <a href="https://www.icimod.org/mountain/permafrost/">melting permafrost</a>, which seems to have been a factor for both the Blatten disaster and <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/posts/tashi-lhazom-5a433b22b_rebuildtil-limifloodrelief-fromtearstohope-activity-7332420946013691904-N0sH?utm_source=share&amp;utm_medium=member_desktop&amp;rcm=ACoAAADxlvsBK3zQKg0X2xPLPS94HyMEettoSU4">the cascading ‘thermokarst lake outburst flood’ that recently occurred in the Limi Valley</a>, are increasingly recognised as a pervasive risk but it is difficult to monitor and the science is young. A multitude of different cryosphere-related disasters are possible across the Himalaya, and background risk is increasing. How do we triage between these different kinds of hazards? How do we know where to look? While it might not have been possible to monitor the glaciers and cryosphere features that contributed to the Langtang disaster, we need to be actively looking for other places where monitoring systems and early warning is possible in Nepal and the broader Himalayan region. Of course, we do need to be precise in our analysis and communication around climate attribution, but consensus does exist on some general trends: climate change is driving new hazard interactions that can generate extreme flows. Therefore, we also need to recognise the undeniable: that background risk is undeniably rising, that lives are at risk, and that we need to invest in building systems that can help anticipate events like Blatten (which takes time, time that others don’t have) immediately. The fact that Langtang has been fully rebuilt and community leaders were effective in determining the shape of their own future and ‘building back better’ their way (as complicated as that may be), demonstrates that a future can be possible, amid uncertainty. But the future of many other communities in the Himalaya, who should never have to go through what the Langtangpa went through if we can avoid it, still remains at-risk without more scientific attention and investment. Meanwhile, the monsoon is arriving in Nepal and another disaster could happen any day now. Coverage of the Blatten disaster has been rightfully robust. Praise for the scientists and authorities who identified these risks and correctly analyzed the situation is also deserved, for that is difficult work. A wider call to learn from this event and use insights to inform policy on climate risk assessment or questions of managed retreat is also exceedingly necessary and urgent. As many scientists are saying: events like this will happen again. This is a scary time in the mountains, in the Alps, in the Himalaya, and many other regions. That said, not all places are equally exposed or vulnerable. To reiterate a core question that I have been asking for years: <a href="https://dialogue.earth/en/climate/opinion-climate-disasters-integrate-local-knowledge/">Whose uncertainties matter</a>? When and why? We know that climate-related loss and damage will not be equally or equitably distributed, and that is one of the core reasons for the UN’s Early Warnings for All program. Blatten is being talked about this week <a href="https://globalplatform.undrr.org/2025/preparatory-days/global-ew4all-multi-stakeholder-forum">while the Global Platform for Disaster Risk Reduction is going in Geneva</a>, from where some of my Nepali colleagues posted photos of them posing with a sign that speaks to the justice issue: ‘Early warnings work. They must work for everyone.” Working toward this noble goal will require a concerted and committed global effort. -- Austin Lord, PhD is a Senior Fellow at the Stimson Center and an environmental anthropologist who has been conducting research in Nepal for the past 13 years on disaster and climate risk management, water and energy policy, infrastructure development, and environmental governance.

Blatten, Langtang, and Disasters Yet to Come?

Frontpage topic

<a href="https://myrepublica.nagariknetwork.com/news/dhm-forecasts-above-average-rainfall-and-temperatures-for-2025-monsoon-28-10.html">This year, </a>Madhes Province received less rainfall than was forecast by the &nbsp;Department of Hydrology and Meteorology (DHM), reducing groundwater recharge of shallow aquifers which are the lifeline for domestic use and irrigation.&nbsp; The crisis was serious enough for the government to officially declare a drought emergency during the monsoon, with the province declared a '<a href="https://kathmandupost.com/national/2025/07/23/cabinet-declares-madhesh-province-a-disaster-crisis-zone?">disaster-hit zone</a>' in July.&nbsp; The monsoon scarcity hit farmers hardest, a majority of whom depend on rainfall for agriculture. Data from Dhanusa’s <a href="https://add.madhesh.gov.np/noticefiles/%E0%A4%A7%E0%A4%BE%E0%A4%A8-%E0%A4%B0%E0%A5%8B%E0%A4%AA%E0%A4%BE%E0%A4%87%E0%A4%95%E0%A5%8B-%E0%A4%B5%E0%A4%BF%E0%A4%B5%E0%A4%B0%E0%A4%A3-%E0%A5%A4-1752227917.pdf">Agriculture Development Directorate</a> shows that only 33% paddy plantation was completed by mid July, in comparison to <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/money/2024/07/31/fastest-transplantation-rate-sows-hope-for-bumper-paddy-harvest?">92% planting the same time last year</a>. Only 49% of agricultural land in Nepal is irrigated — farmers in the rest of the arable land rely on rainfall, private wells and groundwater extraction. During the dry seasons and droughts, water insufficient groundwater recharge worsens the water crisis.&nbsp; Nearly 88% of households depend on groundwater in Madhes Province which has about 100,780 shallow tube wells and 60,660 deep tube wells. But in recent times, the tube wells and hand pumps have dried up every year.&nbsp; This shortage disproportionately impacts low income families and small-scale farmers, who have no other alternative to irrigate their land. And because paddy accounts for up to 7% of Nepal’s economy, Madhes’ water crisis is not confined to within the province, but has serious implications on the national economy.&nbsp; Underground water Groundwater extraction for irrigation began in the <a href="https://jvs-nwp.org.np/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Water-Nepal-A-historical-Perspective.pdf">1970s, </a>shallow and deep tube wells for irrigation were introduced with support from development partners. By the 2021 agriculture census, <a href="https://agricensusnepal.gov.np/upload_file/files/post/1731650149_1221316497_Agriculture%20Census%202021_District%20Summary%20Report_by%20Province.pdf">groundwater irrigated land had increased </a>to 41.7%, up from &nbsp;<a href="https://agricensusnepal.gov.np/upload_file/files/post/1694250757_1312300734_National%20Sample%20Census%20of%20Agriculture%202021_22%20(National%20Report).indd.pdf">29.8% in 2011.</a>&nbsp; A lack of strong policies and regulation to monitor unchecked extraction has meant that with the exception of some parts of Kathmandu Valley, domestic users, subsistence and commercial farmers, restaurants, hotels and industries across Nepal can draw any quantity of groundwater from desired depths and location. While the dependence on drilling for water has risen due to limited expansion of surface water infrastructure, there has been little attention to groundwater recharge. This competing use of groundwater threatens the fundamental right to drinking water.&nbsp; The ecologically sensitive Chure and Bhawar watershed play a crucial role in groundwater recharge. However, deforestation and indiscriminate riverbed mining has severely reduced its recharge potential over the years. In addition, widespread monoculture plantation of fast-growing non-native eucalyptus trees, replacing native sissoo and sal trees has compounded the crisis. Eucalyptus, a water intensive species indigenous to Australia, was introduced in the Bhawar region in 1978 for supplying wood. The Tarai’s recurring water crisis is not only climatic. Years of fragmented planning, inadequate budget allocation for groundwater management, as well as limited intra- and inter-government policies and coordination have contributed to the disaster just as much as droughts and floods caused by changing weather patterns. The United Nations said decades ago disasters are not natural, and they occur when we fail to prepare.&nbsp; Groundwater management is <a href="https://www.opmcm.gov.np/download/%e0%a4%86%e0%a4%af%e0%a5%8b%e0%a4%9c%e0%a4%a8%e0%a4%be-%e0%a4%b5%e0%a4%b0%e0%a5%8d%e0%a4%97%e0%a5%80%e0%a4%95%e0%a4%b0%e0%a4%a3%e0%a4%95%e0%a5%8b-%e0%a4%86%e0%a4%a7%e0%a4%be%e0%a4%b0-%e0%a4%a4/?wpdmdl=8990&amp;refresh=683b8df54ffef1748733429">the shared responsibility of federal, provincial and local</a> governments, but there is a lack of <a href="https://www.iwmi.org/blogs/stakeholders-in-nepal-work-together-to-enhance-collective-action-for-municipal-groundwater-management/">integrated planning, &nbsp;budgeting, data sharing</a>, and collective action for groundwater extraction and recharge.&nbsp; Sustainable groundwater use in the plains requires inclusive and equitable practices that combine water science-informed interventions with a long-term cross-disciplinary approach.&nbsp; Groundwater is mainly available either in shallow unconfined aquifers that are close to the surface and directly linked to rainfall and rivers, and deep confined aquifers between semi permeable or impermeable ground layers. Locating and mapping such aquifers would help us find what depth they lie at, how much water they hold, what we can do to recharge them and how much time recharging would take—enabling sustainable use of groundwater. Construction of surface water projects such as the Sun Kosi Marine Diversion Multipurpose Project, which serves a dual purpose of expanding irrigation and recharging groundwater, must be expedited.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251027071020_a9442084bc412998d3e7417cf0d057cae8a2b98f5e47ac1a8cc0630612ff2a55.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251027071020_a9442084bc412998d3e7417cf0d057cae8a2b98f5e47ac1a8cc0630612ff2a55" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mitigating the Madhes water crisis NT"> <figcaption>Photo: ONION FILMS / IWMI</figcaption> </figure>  Such infrastructure have a conjunctive use recognised by the National Irrigation Master Plan 2019 and the National Irrigation Policy 2023, wherein farmers can rely on canals for irrigation during monsoon and groundwater during dry seasons.&nbsp; Nature-based solutions such as rainwater harvesting, managed aquifer recharge techniques, restoration of wetlands and retention ponds, and floodwater reservoirs, particularly in ecologically sensitive regions like the Chure Bhaban, should be explored. &nbsp; The management of green water — the water stored in soil and vegetation — is equally as critical as that of blue water (rivers, canals, and groundwater). Green water is lost through evapotranspiration, which contributes to nearly half of the rainfall on land. Deforestation, soil degradation, poor land use practices, and loss of wetlands contribute to the disruption of the evapotranspiration cycle, affecting rainfall patterns and groundwater recharge. Solutions Rising temperatures compound this situation by increasing evapotranspiration. Soil water conservation, vegetation cover, wetland restoration, and nature friendly land use practices must therefore be prioritised. Water-efficient technologies and practices including drip irrigation use of sprinklers, mulching, and soil fertility improvement should be scaled up.&nbsp; At the same time, we must promote irrigation techniques and technologies along with crop choices and cropping patterns that give more yield per drop of water so that food production and water conservation go hand in hand. &nbsp; The government provides subsidised electricity for irrigation starting at Rs2.3/unit, some local governments are even supplying power for free. While such subsidies support farmers and increase productivity, &nbsp;it also poses serious risk of over extraction of groundwater.&nbsp; Flat subsidies in electricity or solar irrigation must be replaced by targeted subsidies in order to balance domestic and agricultural needs with ecological conservation. The 2015 <a href="https://kvwsmb.gov.np/public/uploads/board_act_&amp;_rules/rule-1.pdf">directive for groundwater licensing</a> developed per the Drinking Water Management Board Act 2006 for Kathmandu valley prohibits groundwater extraction from shallow aquifers for commercial and industrial uses. The directive also has provisions for licensing, and renewals, and mandates for license holders to contribute to groundwater recharge. The Madhes needs similar context-specific policies to address its groundwater crisis and safeguard water rights. Shallow aquifers in the region should be prioritised for domestic use while <a href="https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-981-10-3889-1_11">deep aquifers, which are still underutilised, should be tapped</a> in a sustainable manner for commercial, industrial and large scale irrigation and drinking water projects.&nbsp; While <a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/human-dynamics/articles/10.3389/fhumd.2023.1181734/full">technical solutions</a> are important, they are not enough to solve Madhes’ water crisis. Nepal’s Constitution and the Local Governance Operation Act 2017 empower local governments for water management in their constituencies. But beyond the letter of the law, local units require community tailored groundwater policies, regular groundwater monitoring and up-to-date data, and investment in local recharge initiatives such as retention ponds, restoration of wetlands, and rainwater harvesting. Coordination between all three tiers of government is crucial, particularly among agencies that pertain to drinking water, water resources, irrigation, agriculture, land use, environment, climate change, and urban development. &nbsp; Heeding indigenous knowledge will be crucial to understanding the water crisis in Madhes and initiating solutions that will fit the context and needs of the region. Local engagement in groundwater monitoring can help to create self -aware, accountable, cost effective and participatory groundwater management practices.&nbsp; To ensure water security in Madhes, we thus need inclusive governance, coherent policies, active engagement of citizens, integration of local and indigenous knowledge and a principle of equity that puts people at the centre. &nbsp; Sumitra KC, a policy and governance researcher in natural resources management, is the National Researcher at the International Water Management Institute (IWMI), Nepal. Manohara Khadka, PhD, an expert in natural resources management, gender equality, and social inclusion, is the Country Representative of IWMI, Nepal.

Mitigating the Madhes water crisis

Public anxiety about immigration has become a powerful political currency across many liberal democracies. In Australia, as elsewhere, legitimate concerns about housing and economic fairness can be, and increasingly are exploited by anti-democratic actors who frame migration not as a policy issue but as a cultural threat.&nbsp;
When these narratives move from online spaces to public rallies, they do more than divide opinion; they erode the social trust and pluralism on which democracy depends. Understanding how populist and far-right movements weaponise migration debates is crucial to recognising the early challenging signs of liberal democracy.
Immigration has become one of the most politically charged issues in Australia, not only because of the numbers but because of its entanglement with cost-of-living pressures, housing shortages, and rent spikes.&nbsp;
The latest Household, Income and Labour Dynamics in Australia (HILDA) <a href="https://www.unimelb.edu.au/newsroom/news/2025/september/how-we-live-latest-hilda-data-gives-insight-into-a-changing-australia">data</a> shows rising household financial stress as Australian households spending more on rent and income tax. These changes likely reflect a mix of economic and policy factors but create a lot of room for people to hold inaccurate and occasionally contradictory attitudes on these issues.&nbsp;
While net overseas migration has started to decline from its post-pandemic peak, public concern remains high, amplified by populist rhetoric. Some surveys have <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/feb/04/australians-want-less-migration-but-oppose-cutting-international-student-numbers-study-finds">revealed</a> a nuanced picture: most Australians want lower migration overall but oppose cutting international student numbers, and support targeted skilled migration to address workforce gaps.&nbsp;
As former Home Affairs Minister Clare O’Neil <a href="https://minister.homeaffairs.gov.au/ClareONeil/Pages/how-australia-broke-its-migration-system.aspx">argued</a> in 2023, Australia’s migration system is “broken and un-strategic”, not delivering for business, for migrants, or for the larger population. This is a situation that frustrates both sides of the debate and makes immigration an easy political flashpoint.
The recent <a href="https://marchforaustralia.org/">March for Australia</a> rallies turned these anxieties into street-level mobilisation. Tens of thousands <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/czjmre371l1o">protested</a> at what they called ‘mass immigration’, while far-right groups seized the opportunity to inject xenophobic slogans and calls for ‘remigration’ into the public space. These demonstrations were not only about visa caps or housing and jobs; they became performances of who is entitled to belong.&nbsp;
When immigration is framed not as a policy question but as a cultural test of Australianness, it risks shrinking the demos, the very community that democracy is meant to represent.
What made the March for Australia so striking was not only its size but its composition. Recent investigative reporting <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/politics/victoria/don-t-mention-hitler-and-you-re-sweet-the-great-march-for-australia-deception-20250909-p5mtlc.html">revealed</a> that neo-Nazi groups were not merely present at the March for Australia rallies but played a role in covertly organising them. They amplified messaging online, coordinated attendance, and sought to mask their involvement to broaden appeal.&nbsp;
This highlights that democratic erosion is rarely spontaneous; it requires actors who deliberately exploit social grievances, mistrust, and polarisation to mobilise anger for their anti-democratic ends. The banners reading ‘<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">Stop Immigration</a>’ revealed that public hostility towards migrants, <a href="https://www.afr.com/politics/federal/pressure-mounts-for-price-to-apologise-to-indian-australians-20250908-p5mt7x">particularly</a> from the Indo-Pacific, is growing.
For many migrants, these displays are more than conceptual debates about white national identity. They are experienced emotionally. Writing shortly after the rallies, Melbourne-based writer Jafrin Kabir <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/sep/01/how-do-i-feel-safe-after-march-for-australia-anti-immigration-protest-ntwnfb">reflected</a> that she had never felt so foreign on Australian soil. She pays taxes and inflated rents, contributes skills in the national interest, cheers for the Tillies and calls Melbourne “home”, yet suddenly felt unsafe because of the origin and colour of her skin.&nbsp;
Similarly, Chinese national interviewed by media outlet <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3325127/i-feel-insecure-chinese-nationals-australia-blindsided-anti-immigration-marches">reported</a> cancelling weekend plans and feeling “blindsided” by the scale of the marches.
Scapegoating migrants especially in times of economic stress is an age-old phenomenon and is not just limited to Australia. Across the democratic world, from the United States to the UK and parts of Europe, hostility toward migrants and minorities has become a route for anti-democratic forces. Populist actors often <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2025/mar/27/peter-dutton-keeps-blaming-migration-for-the-housing-crisis-but-can-it-really-be-that-simple">use</a> cultural anxiety and demographic change to justify illiberal and undemocratic measures, claiming to restore order while actually dismantling checks and balances.
By analysing democratic decay, scholars like Lydia Khalil at the Lowy Institute, <a href="https://interactives.lowyinstitute.org/features/democratic-erosion/">argue</a> that democracies rarely break down at once. Instead, they incrementally weaken through vicious cycles: declining trust in institutions, entrenched division based on hate, the normalisation of political violence, and the bit by bit removal of norms and guardrails.&nbsp;
Though some of the conditions are present in Australia to be exploited by anti-democratic actors, for example, almost two-thirds of Australians believe their leaders intentionally mislead them, according to the <a href="https://www.edelman.com/au/trust/2025/trust-barometer">2025 Edelman Trust Barometer</a>, &nbsp;but their presence is not determinative.
Australia’s democratic guardrails remain strong: independent courts, transparent elections run by the AEC, and a free press continue to hold power to account. Federalism and active civil society further diffuse power and create space for contestation.&nbsp;
But if public trust continues to erode and social divisions deepen, these safeguards will come under strain. Early recognition and action are crucial to ensure that today’s street-level hostilities do not translate into institutional regression.
Preventing such outcome requires a socially embedded understanding of migration, an understanding that goes beyond simplistic optimistic and pessimistic views. Policy makers should go beyond Push-Pull models, functionalist and neoclassical and historical-structural theories.&nbsp;
Consulting the work done by <a href="https://www.guilford.com/books/The-Age-of-Migration/Haas-Castles-Miller/9781462542895#:~:text=International%20Population%20Movements%20in%20the%20Modern%20World,-Hein%20de%20Haas">Hein de Haas</a> et-el, migration should be conceptualised as an intrinsic part of broader processes of development, social transformation and globalisation rather than a 'problem to be solved'. We need more nuanced views that have an eye for the complexity of migration processes and the diversity of its causes and impacts.
Sohail Akhtar is a Melbourne- based researcher focusing on governance, public policy, and migration. He contributes to Lowy Institute Sydney.
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and is being republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2025/is-street-level-hostility-a-challenge-to-liberal-democracy-reflections-from-australia.html">the original</a> with their permission.

Is street-level hostility a challenge to liberal democracy?

There was a time when journalism stood as the last wall between power and the people. Facts were sacred, truth was slow but solid, and credibility was the journalist’s only currency.&nbsp;
But today, that wall is collapsing—not because of censorship or corporate control alone, but because of the seductive lure of social media monetisation.
Even seasoned journalists from respected media houses are now opening their own YouTube channels, TikTok accounts, Facebook pages, X (formerly Twitter) feeds, and Instagram reels to earn directly from clicks and views.&nbsp;
Others write paid newsletters on Substack, record sponsored podcasts on Spotify, or stream “news commentary” on Twitch and LinkedIn Live. The platforms may differ, but the logic is the same: attention equals income.
And to earn attention, one must perform.
In this economy of algorithms, the truth alone is not enough—it must be dramatic. A headline must provoke, a thumbnail must shock, and a caption must trigger emotion. Journalism has turned into theatre, where facts compete with feelings for visibility.
When every click means money, the line between journalism and entertainment evaporates. Subtlety dies. Complexity vanishes. Sensation rules. A small dispute becomes a ‘national scandal’, a harmless rumour becomes ‘breaking news’, and the private pain of individuals becomes public spectacle. The more outrage it provokes, the higher the revenue.
Even responsible journalists—those who once double-checked every fact—are now caught in this trap. They post multiple short videos a day, often with half-verified claims, provocative thumbnails, and exaggerated titles. They pick up anything that ‘performs well’—from celebrity gossip to moral outrage—because everything now has content value.
This transformation is not only embarrassing for journalism; it is dangerous for democracy.
Social media platforms like YouTube, TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, X, and Threads do not reward truth—they reward engagement. The algorithms favour emotional content, not ethical content. Outrage spreads faster than reason. As a result, public discourse is shaped not by facts but by friction.
What happens when the nation’s journalists start competing with influencers for attention? When the same person who once reported corruption stories now makes reaction videos for income? The profession loses its dignity, and the audience loses its trust.
It is not that journalists suddenly became unethical—it is that the system has turned them unethical. Platforms pay for popularity, not integrity. Those who play by the rules of truth struggle to survive; those who play by the rules of virality thrive.
This is how the soul of journalism is being auctioned—one click at a time.
Should truth depend on algorithms designed to exploit emotion and outrage?
Can democracy survive when facts are filtered through the logic of monetisation?
If journalism becomes just another hustle for followers and income, the cost will not be limited to credibility—it will be the collapse of civic understanding.
Media houses, journalists, and audiences alike must reclaim journalism from this marketplace of noise. Let news return to its true purpose: to inform, not to inflame. To reveal, not to perform.
Because once we trade truth for entertainment, we won’t just lose journalism—we’ll lose our ability to tell the difference between reality and the show.
Sunil Babu Pant is Executive Director, &nbsp;Mayako Pahichan and founder of Blue Diamond society.

When truth becomes clickbait

The United Nations turned 80 this year. What should have been a moment of pride and celebration at the high-level session of the UN General Assembly in September 2025 turned instead into an occasion of bitter irony.
At the UN Headquarters in New York—fittingly located in the host country that once helped found and champion the organisation—the loudest fireworks came not from commemoration but condemnation.&nbsp;
The President of the United States, boasting that he had “ended seven wars in seven months while the UN did nothing,” derided the very purpose of the institution. He dismissed climate change as a hoax, renounced the Sustainable Development Goals, and mocked multilateralism as an obsolete bureaucracy.
That outburst was shocking, but not surprising. The UN has long been an easy target for populist politicians. Yet even as it endures ridicule and neglect, the truth remains: if the UN did not exist, the world would have to create it again.
An Imperfect but Indispensable Institution
The UN’s failures are glaring and often heartbreaking. As the wars in Ukraine and Gaza rage on—each aided and abetted by two Permanent Members of its Security Council—the organisation looks helpless, capable only of issuing pleas and providing meager humanitarian aid.&nbsp;
Its impotence is evident again in Haiti’s gang warfare, Myanmar’s and Sudan’s military atrocities, Afghanistan’s gender apartheid, and North Korea’s saber-rattling, just to name a few.&nbsp;
It is easy to blame “the UN,” but the real culprits are its Member States—especially the five veto-wielding powers of the Security Council, who too often place narrow national interests above global security. Many others strangle the UN with grand resolutions and lofty mandates but fail to fund them.
Hiding behind sovereignty, many governments oppress their citizens, foster corruption, and neglect their global commitments. Meanwhile, the richest nations, capable of lifting millions from poverty, pour trillions of dollars into their militaries.
Still, despite its flaws and frustrations, humanity cannot afford to abandon the United Nations. The challenges of our time— poverty, climate change, pandemics, terrorism, cybercrime, and mass displacement—are “problems without passports.” No nation, however powerful, can solve them alone. Only collective action through a multilateral system can address the interconnected crises that define the 21st century.
For smaller or poorer nations, the UN is an amplifier of voice and leverage. Acting together, they can negotiate more fairly with the powerful. For big and powerful nations, the UN provides legitimacy and a framework for cooperation that unilateral action can never achieve.
The UN, for all its imperfections, remains a mirror of our world: it reflects both our aspirations and our divisions. Its hypocrisy is our hypocrisy; its failures are our failures. Resolutions without resolve and promises without action are the true reasons for its ineffectiveness.
Yet amid the cynicism, it is worth recalling that the UN and its agencies have earned 14 Nobel Peace Prizes—more than any other institution in history. That is no small testament to its contributions to peacekeeping, humanitarian relief, human rights, and development.&nbsp;
But it cannot rest on past laurels. If the UN is to remain relevant, it must transform itself to meet the demands of a rapidly changing world.
Time for Tough Love and Real Reform
UN Secretary-General António Guterres has launched the UN@80 Initiative to sharpen the system’s impact and reaffirm its purpose. A recent system-wide Mandate Implementation Review uncovered a staggering reality: over 30% of mandates created since 1990 are still active, and 86% have no sunset clause. Many require the Secretariat and specialized agencies to carry them out “within existing resources”—an impossible task.
Hundreds of overlapping resolutions and reports clog the UN’s machinery, sustained by bureaucratic inertia and Member States’ appetite for endless paperwork. Too many meetings produce too little action.
Technology now offers a way out. Artificial intelligence can consolidate and streamline reporting, freeing up resources for real work. Likewise, the frequency of governing board meetings—three times a year for agencies like UNDP, UNICEF, UNFPA, UN Women, and WFP—could be reduced without sacrificing accountability.
Facing financial crisis, political hostility from major donors, and a proliferation of unfunded mandates, the UN has no choice but to rationalize its structure. Some agencies will have to merge or move their operations from costly headquarters in New York and Europe to lower-cost locations in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East.
UNICEF has already taken the lead with its “Future Focus Initiative,” with plans to cut headquarters budgets by 25% and relocate 70% of its staff to more affordable hubs such as Bangkok, Nairobi, or Istanbul. Such moves can reduce expenses, bring the organisation closer to the field, and align it better with the realities of today’s world.
At the same time, the UN must take advantage of the tremendous growth in professional capacity within developing countries. Many of these nations now produce highly qualified experts who can serve effectively—and at lower cost—than expatriates from the Global North.&nbsp;
UNICEF pioneered this decades ago by hiring national professionals in its field offices. Expanding this practice system-wide would not only save money but also strengthen local ownership and credibility.
These are sensible, short-term measures. But they only scratch the surface. The real test of leadership lies in tackling the deep structural reforms that have eluded the UN for decades.
The Hard Reforms: Power, Accountability, and Money
Democratizing the UN: The UN’s mission is to promote peace, democracy, development and human rights—but its own structure remains profoundly undemocratic. The Security Council’s five permanent members hold veto power that can paralyze action even in the face of genocide or aggression.
That provision might have made sense in 1945, but it is indefensible in 2025. Yet changing it requires the consent of those same five powers. Only enlightened leadership in those countries and sustained public pressure globally can bring about reform.
Democratisation must also extend to how the UN’s top leaders are chosen. The Secretary-General and heads of major agencies are still selected through opaque bargains among powerful nations. These posts are often “reserved” for certain nationalities rather than awarded on merit. The UN must move toward a transparent, merit-based system if it hopes to regain credibility.
Reviving the “Responsibility to Protect”: Too many regimes hide behind the shield of sovereignty to oppress their own people. The world leaders agreed at the UN Millennium Summit in 2005 that when a government fails to protect its citizens—or worse, becomes their tormentor—the international community has a Responsibility to Protect (R2P). The 2024 Pact for the Futurereaffirmed that principle.
But R2P has rarely been applied because powerful nations invoke it selectively—protecting their allies and condemning their rivals. True leadership would mean upholding R2P universally, without double standards.
Disarmament and Development: The UN was founded to prevent war. Yet worldwide military spending now exceeds $2.7 trillion a year—nearly $7.5 billion every day. NATO countries are expanding their defense budgets even as social spending shrinks and commitments to the poor are cut.
This is moral madness. Humanity needs fewer weapons and more investment in sustainable development. Redirecting even a fraction of global military spending toward the Sustainable Development Goals would do more to secure peace than all the bombs in the world.
Fixing the UN’s Finances: Money and power often speak louder than moral authority at the UN. The United States contributes about a quarter of the UN’s regular budget—and uses that leverage to exert disproportionate influence. Other large donors do the same.
In 1985, Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme proposed a simple remedy: no single country should pay—or be allowed to pay—more than 10% of the UN’s budget. That would reduce dependence on any one donor while requiring modest increases from others. Ironically, Washington opposed it, fearing it might lose influence.
Reviving that proposal today could help depoliticise UN financing and make it more sustainable. The UN should also expand partnerships with private philanthropy, foundations, and innovative sources such as taxes on global financial transactions or the use of the global commons. Such mechanisms could liberate the organisation from the recurring hostage drama of budget threats and withheld dues.
A Hopeful Horizon
History rarely moves in straight lines. Progress often comes two steps forward and one step back. Today, the post-World War II international order is fraying, and populist nationalism is resurgent. But in the long arc of human history, the movement toward global cooperation is irreversible.
We are slowly—but surely—evolving from primitive tribalism to modern nationalism and onward toward shared global solidarity. Multilateralism may be under siege, but it will rise again, reimagined and renewed, because our interdependence leaves no alternative.
I take hope from the energy and courage of Generation Z across the world—from Nepal and Bangladesh to Kenya, Indonesia, Morocco, and beyond. Young people are challenging corruption, inequality, and authoritarianism, and they see themselves increasingly as global citizens, connected through technology and united by shared aspirations rather than divided by borders or dogma.
If we can offer these young citizens opportunity and justice instead of inequality and despair, we will see the dawn of a more cooperative, humane, and equitable world. That, in turn, will breathe new life into the United Nations—still imperfect, still indispensable, and still humanity’s best hope for promoting peace and prosperity.
Republished under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

Quo Vadis UN @80?

In 2004, Poet Durga Lal Shrestha asked me to translate 223 little poems from Newa into English. They were each written as sestet-- terse in their form but heavy in imagery and sentiment. The novice translator in me struggled to find the best way to convey his poetry in English-- but the process became a tour as I discovered my mother tongue anew. The highlight, however, was Shrestha’s handwriting. His calligraphy is immaculate. He had given me photocopies from the notebook he had written the poems in and each page looked as though they were freshly out of the press. The letters bore a consistency, unswayed by the emotions of his poetry. Sometimes, I would just stare at the handwriting in admiration.&nbsp; Someone else had been similarly besotted by his writing: “I met him 25 years ago in the UK when he was the chief guest at a Mha Puja event organised by Pasa Pucha,” recollects Ojesh Singh, writer and engineer. “We were roommates. I noticed he couldn’t stop writing.”&nbsp; Shrestha, an octogenarian now, was a teacher at Kanya Mandir School for many years, where his writing was admired by colleagues and students. Known as Janakavi or People’s Poet, a title bestowed on him by the Nepal Bhasha Parishad, Shrestha is also the recipient of the Jagadamba Shree Puraskar for his contribution to literature.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071052_b109f2ee6dbac911fb8002e8e8bb33a50a8f755d26662f333535d32c8573e782.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251021071052_b109f2ee6dbac911fb8002e8e8bb33a50a8f755d26662f333535d32c8573e782" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="900" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> <figcaption>From left to right: Suman Shrestha, Ananda Kumar Maharjan, Durga Lal Shrestha, Ojesh Singh, and Arbindra Man Singh. Photo: SUCHITA SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  “He would write on anything he could lay his hands on. On tissue paper, envelopes, cigarette boxes. It struck me how neat and tidy his writing was,” says Singh. “The structure and size were perfectly in sync-- and as an aspiring graphic designer then, I fell in love with his writing. Later, whenever I read his books, I thought it would be nice to read them in his writing.” After sitting with the notion of turning Shrestha’s writing into a digital font for years, in 2024, he reached out to a small group of people who he thought might be allies.&nbsp; “It was during Ojesh Ji’s book launch that we met and talked about the possibility of turning Durga Lal Shrestha’s writing into font,” recalls Ananda Kumar Maharjan, who has designed the Durga Lal Shrestha font and is affiliated with Callijatra, an organisation promoting Newa calligraphy.&nbsp; For Singh, the desire to immortalise the poet's handwriting wasn’t only coming from personal admiration, it was also about preserving the writing of a language and literature leader and activist. He offered to fund the font project, which meant paying for Maharjan’s time and dedication. He also drew into the conversation Shrestha’s son Suman, who has been an integral part of the process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071056_372dc34ac3ce3b70445128131a11ade8f321756c6cc7615825c4451e85f56374.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251021071056_372dc34ac3ce3b70445128131a11ade8f321756c6cc7615825c4451e85f56374" data-rendition-name="original" width="616" height="728" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  The others involved in the process were journalist Arbindra Man Singh, who had been scanning Shrestha’s writing for the book Hastakshar, a collection of poems printed in the author’s handwriting. Also an enthusiast of converting Shrestha’s writing to a font, Singh provided help in bringing together the scans, based on which Maharjan picked the best letter for each alphabet to create a complete set.&nbsp; “Doing this was different from other font developments I have done in the past,” explains Maharjan, who has also digitised his own handwriting into a font, called Anand. “To create Durga Lal Shrestha’s writing as font, I had to analyse his writing archive and pick the best.”&nbsp; He adds: “There was a book published in his writing, so there were scans and digital archiving done by Arbindra Ji, which became the foundation for my work.” He had to find a prototype for each alphabet based on the scans. He traced the letters on Illustrator and copied them to a MAC software called Glyphs where he had to enter each letter, using a traditional Devanagari keyboard instead of Unicode.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025102108100_2f6b8c0f3cf91682707ac356e11ad50b342a4198f56490ab68d041e875b15edb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025102108100_2f6b8c0f3cf91682707ac356e11ad50b342a4198f56490ab68d041e875b15edb" data-rendition-name="original" width="818" height="766" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  “I had to be very careful to keep it accurate. Conjunctions need attention,” Maharjan says. “There are half letters, saint letters, ligatures and open type features to pay attention to, this is more advanced than the fonts I’ve created in the past.” &nbsp; Maharjan has designed this font in three different variations that users can play with. “Writing changes with age. While young, people write better, but with age, it starts to change. Since Durga Lal Shrestha hasn’t been very well lately, his hand shakes when he writes. So, we had to pick the best of his writing from the records,” he adds. “People also tend to write in different styles depending on their mood so we took the best four of every letter and traced and picked one.”&nbsp; Handwriting is deeply intimate and in this day and age of tech, becoming lost.&nbsp; What bothers me about the day of phones is that I no longer know what the writing of those close to me look like. I no longer know how you press the pen between our fingers or how you tilt it against the paper or how you pause to write periods or how the nib makes a perfect tiny orb before you drag it just so, to turn it into a comma. The familiarity of the nuances of someone’s writing is lost on us.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251021071056_2c83ab2c3ed4cfa42e6a6a637d88fd879218fb5b7391e086ab5db1a8ec173654.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251021071056_2c83ab2c3ed4cfa42e6a6a637d88fd879218fb5b7391e086ab5db1a8ec173654" data-rendition-name="original" width="992" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="Digitising the savant calligrapher NT"> </figure>  Ojesh Singh agrees with me. He says it’s important to keep handwriting alive as people become more and more tech-dependent. People are likely to interact even less with letters on paper, but at least we can have fonts, he says.&nbsp; A set of six books by poet Durga Lal Shrestha is set to be launched on 31October. One of them, entitled, Kawa, is typeset in the Durga Lal Shrestha Font. The font will be made available to the general public after the books have been released. In July, I had visited Shrestha, who I also call Durga Lal Taaba, as many Newa people in my generation do. Seated in the quiet of his home, he conversed about literature and language with my father and my uncle. Coming out of Taaba, Newa, which has a utilitarian function for me to communicate with my parents, sounded more like a lyric.&nbsp; I asked him what he thinks about his handwriting being archived as a font. He replied: “This body is going to be gone eventually, so I thought maybe my handwriting could live on.” Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people in Pratibha’s life.

Digitising the savant calligrapher

I used to write a weekly column for Nepali Times under the nom du plume Arthabeed, and in issue <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/search?q=artha+beed+471" target="_blank">#471 on 9 October</a> 2009 the commentary was titled ‘Unleashing Nepal’.&nbsp;
It was about the country’s economic potential and peace dividend, and I wrote: ‘The list is endless and if we can make just a few of these ideas really happen, Nepal and Nepalis will surely be better off.’
It was not a great time to be an optimist, but there was a desperate need to see some light at the end of the tunnel. A glance at the South Asia Terrorism Portal (SATP) hosted at Institute for Conflict Management for 2009 makes one wonder how we survived those difficult times.&nbsp;
The situation was actually much worse than what it is today: the Constitution drafting process was stuck, there was never-ending political wrangling, the Maoist army was not yet integrated, and there were thousands of ex-guerrillas and guns around.&nbsp;
Then Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal tried to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15944" target="_blank">fire the Army Chief Rookmangud Katawal</a> in May 2009, and had to quit for his pains. Even the New York Times wrote: ‘Nepal’s Premier Resigns After Power Struggle Over Army Chief’.&nbsp;
Rumour mills were working overtime like they do now, though social media platforms were not as prolific as they are today. It was text messages, emails and phone calls along with lurid tabloid headlines.&nbsp;
The rumours around coups never ended, and there were rumours about rumours. One such report read ‘Nepali Congress leader Ram Chandra Poudel said the rumour about a coup was spread by Maoists to demoralise Nepalese Army’. Poudel is now Nepal’s president.
When in May 2010, the Maoist announced they would encircle Kathmandu and declared a five day strike, it was a civil society that stood up against the bullying. There was fear that the Constituent Assembly would be dismantled.&nbsp;
Behind every action, everyone saw a foreign hand. In another one of my columns, I wondered then if the food we are eating also was fed by some foreign hand.&nbsp;
It was during such anxious times that my book Unleashing Nepal came out. Sixteen years later, in similarly anxious times, my third book Nepal 2043: Road to Prosperity is being published this week.&nbsp;
What has changed in these 16 years? Nepal’s economy had grown from $12 billion in 2009 to $44 billion in 2025. Remittances have crossed $11 billion and Nepalis reside in over 180 countries around the world.&nbsp;
The 2015 Constitution installed federalism with the concept of devolving power to the 25 million people living outside Kathmandu Valley. The size of banking and stock market has grown, so has the size of the private sector.
Nepal is sitting on $20 billion in foreign exchange reserves — enough to cover 18 months of imports. Domestic tourism makes up 60% of earnings in the hospitality sector, with social functions, internal air and road travel, domestic pilgrims dominating earnings especially outside Kathmandu Valley.&nbsp;
Nepal’s entrepreneurship has proliferated as online platforms help people sell, logistics companies transport goods and digital payment platforms ensure easy financial transactions. There is close to 100% electrification and internet penetration has accelerated the growth of micro, small and medium enterprises, transforming lives and livelihoods.
Just as in 2009, I also take a long-term view now as Nepal can aim to graduate to a high-income country in 2043. That is the year that in the Bikram Sambat calendar we mark 2100 — the beginning of a new Nepali century.&nbsp;
CORRUPTION CARTELS
On a long-distance trek there are many difficulties, some foreseen, others unforeseen that have to be overcome. One of the biggest impediments to Nepal’s economic growth have been corruption and cartels.&nbsp;
Last month’s youth movement was propelled by an anti-corruption agenda, and the sacrifices of so many lives will not be in vain as cronies and cartels are curtailed. Nepal was embarking on the next set of reforms, and what could be better than having the person who led the High-level Commission on Reforms, Rameshore Khanal becoming the interim Finance Minister.&nbsp;
No political party new or old can avoid initiating economic reforms in their election manifesto for the March elections which will be fought on issues that meet the expectations of young Nepalis — jobs, investment and global mobility.
There will be challenges. Like in 2009, the failed state narrative will continue to appear with parachute consultants landing and supporting a section of Nepali society that has benefited from selling cynicism.&nbsp;
People who have taken politics as a profession and usurped power and money will fight tooth and nail to go their old ways, and the country with them. There will be confrontation.&nbsp;
Nepal also needs to send a message to the world that it is rounding up the criminals who escaped from prisons and tracking down the weapons that were looted. Businesses and citizens need to feel safe.&nbsp;
Finally, we have to remind ourselves that we cannot change our geographical location and the current world order has brought our neighbours closer to each other.&nbsp;
Neither China nor India will like to see prolonged instability in Nepal and spilling over. And Nepal has to be ready to hitch its wagon to those two engines of global growth.
Nepalis are very good at taking super-long term views like a belief in the after life and undertake rituals to ensure a better incarnation next time. Perhaps we need to have a long term view about improving our current lives in our own lifetimes.&nbsp;
There are things to fix in the short-term, of course, but we have to plan for the future decades till 2100 Bikram Sambat.
Sujeev Shakya wrote the column Economic Sense in Nepali Times from 2001-2011 under the pseudonym Arthabeed. His book, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/retrofitting-nepal-for-future-shocks">2043: Road to Prosperity</a> was being released by Penguin last week.

Planning for the year 2100

Nepali Times #1282

Intricately painted Buddha, Aryatara, Krishna, and Parvati gaze serenely at visitors at the Kathmandu Art Gallery under muted amber lights. Moving from one artful devotion to the next, a quiet, profound connection to the divine envelopes the visitor. This transcends art to the realm of the spiritual. &nbsp; The gallery’s latest exhibition, Masters of Devotion, features art by 22 artists all from Bhaktapur. They also include Ajay Karmacharya, Purna Prasad Hyoju, Nhuche Kaji Bajracharya, Rajani Sinkhwal, Shashi Dhar Sainju, Surya Bahadur Chitrakar and Sundar Sinkhwal from the Khowpa Paubha Chowmi Pucha. Paubha are religious and devotional art depicting deities and mandala that date back to the 7th century, when Newa artists began to paint images of the gods on cloth. For the artists who practice this craft, the art form is as meditative as it is meticulous.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251025041028_de34b51d48bcee50ae391301e2ff1890be7ecba3df7e563537c273818825aad5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art review "> </figure>  The exhibition at the newly-opened space Kathmandu Art Gallery coincides with the festival season and is a collection of extravagant works done in mineral and stone colour, sakura and gouache. The vintage art space is located at Babar Mahal Revisited and is a fitting accompaniment to the paubha featured in the exhibit.&nbsp; Sundar Sinkhwal’s vividly painted Harihara is among the more eye-catching works. “Half of the painting is Shiva and half is Vishnu, hence the name Harihar,”explains Sinkhwal. “Together with their consorts Parvati and Laxmi, I have painted Uma-Maheswor and Laxmi-Narayan.” Nandi and Garuda, the vehicles of the two gods, complete the vibrant painting.&nbsp; In contrast, for his piece titled Lakshmi, Sinkhwal shrouds his canvas in dark colours to paint Kuber, the deity revered as the custodian to the wealth in the Hindu pantheon, accompanied by two khyak apparitions —one black, the other white— both mythical creatures in Newari folklore.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251025041032_1bde6de442b742c300bb8c9278ea8886445aa8df47076fd9aa362ce1f8bef903" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  “The black khyak is considered inauspicious, while white ones are a symbol of good luck,” explains Sinkhwal. Purna Prasad Hyoju has used mineral paint on canvas for a powerful depiction of Ardhanareswar, the composite form of Shiva and his consort Parvati.&nbsp; “I drew inspiration from the Newari Swasthani story about the separation of Shiva and Satidevi,” says Hyoju. Legend has it that Shiva, unwilling to part from his consort, reincarnated as a unified dual gender form of himself and Parvati. Hyoju has painted goddess Parvati in bright yellow, in homage to one of her other manifestations, Gauri, which means radiant.&nbsp; Meanwhile, Ratna Gopal Sinkhwal’s Kurkula Devi, done in stone pigment, is radiant on the cotton canvas. “Kurkula Devi is a tantric goddess whose traces are found in the Sadhana Mala,” says Sinkhwal. “The stone pigment is what makes the goddess look like she is gleaming.” One of Sinkhwal’s other works draws from stories in the Mahabharat to depict Bhimsen, Draupadi, Dushasan and Akash Bhairav in confrontation, expressions fierce.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251025041028_72eea52c8504eccb8b3be7cd4cef616dfb8efd821e8b1e1ae8f440f10782be11" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="854" loading="lazy" alt="art exhibition"> </figure>  The opening of the exhibition last week also featured a music session, during which some of the artists sang traditional songs. Their voices joined the rhythm of the madal and melody of the harmonium, adding warmth to the crisp autumn evening.&nbsp; Each painstakingly detailed paubha reflects the artists’ devotion to divinity and mythology, as well as their heritage. Masters of Devotion showcases the work of veritable masters of their craft, and is a must-visit for art connoisseurs and devotees alike. Says the gallery’s Sangeeta Rana Thapa: “It is our honour to celebrate the artists’ work—to stand among pieces that embody both devotion and mastery, and to witness a tradition that continues to inspire us.” Masters of Devotion Kathmandu Art Gallery Baber Mahal Revisited Until 22 November

Artful devotion

Edmund Hillary once said that the Sherpa were the most researched, dissected and blood-taken ethnic group in the world. Living below the highest mountains in the world, the trans-Himalayan traders were genetically adapted to high altitude, their culture spanning both sides of the border, and with average per capita income of the Khumbu five times that of the rest of Nepal. But there are other less-known Sherpas in Nepal’s periphery: in the Langtang, Barun and Rolwaling valleys.&nbsp; Norwegian mountaineer Jon Gangdal’s latest book, Guilt &amp; Glory: Climbing with Sherpas is about his deep personal and four-decade long association with his climbing partners from Rolwaling. Guilt &amp; Glory reads more like Gangdal’s memoir and the mountains he has climbed, but it is also a tribute to the selfless friendship with fellow climbers from Nepal. It also exposes the inherently asymmetric relationship between expeditions and their employees in the Himalaya. Earlier mountaineering narratives overlooked the role of Nepal’s climbing guides in putting their clients on summits. But in recent years there has been increasing recognition that most expeditions would just not be possible without them. SUMMIT SUPPORT And that is where Gangdal’s book fits in: between the glory of a successful summit and guilt about not giving due credit to the sacrifice and professionalism of a people whose surname and ethnicity is now a synonym for support staff of G-7 Summits. After failure and tragedy on a 1994 expedition on Everest West Ridge in which his climbing partner Mingma Norbu was killed in an avalanche, Gangdal is tormented by guilt and supports his widow Ang Sona and her family. ‘The Art of Succeeding When You Have Failed’ was the title of his lecture series in which Gangdal became an outspoken critic of military-style assaults on Himalayan peaks, and self-seeking climbers on them. In a comment he wrote for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/everest-dangerous-place-to-work,1316" target="_blank">Nepali Times in #704 in 2014 </a>after an avalanche killed 16 Nepali guides on the Khumbu Icefall, he argued that equality and safety of climbing Sherpas could only happen ‘if we turn the whole Everest pyramid upside down’. He wrote: ‘We can feel nothing but grief and pain with the families of the brave boys who gave their lives for … for what? For the glory of their nation, like at war? For the glory of their attention-seeking sahibs who have had the highest mountains in the world as their playground for more than a century? Or for what we all have to do: our daily duty to feed ourselves and our families.’ Guilt &amp; Glory expands on that theme, weaving in his climbing adventures. He realises that the egalitarian Norwegian approach in decision-making does not work in the East’ where the prevalent notion is that a leader should lead. Gangdal notes that with a few tweaks, the twain of East and West can indeed meet. In 1996 on the north face of Everest while a major tragedy was unfolding on the Nepal side, Gangdal tries to ‘play Sherpa’ hauling twice the load of his Sherpa companions and is knocked out with exhaustion and has to abandon the climb. Climbers have often justified not helping fellow climbers in distress in the Death Zone saying that ethics at sea level do not apply at eight thousand metres high on a mountain. But Gangdal quotes expedition doctor Morten Rostrup: ‘When you pass climbers who are sick or in danger on the way to the summit, you should always do something … continuing to the summit shows a lack of humanity.’ Foreign climbers are on top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and in a monastery below Manaslu, Gangdal once held a long one-sided discussion with the abbott on why people’s basic needs need to be met before higher aspirations can be pursued. The asymmetry in the relation between sahibs and porters is less glaring than it used to be. Many mountaineers have struck life-long friendships with bonds with their employees and their families in Nepal. And, as Gangdal writes, ‘Education … has helped reduce the asymmetry between the Sherpa people and us foreign climbers.’ Unlike other books about Himalayan mountaineering &nbsp;this one focuses on the Rolwaling, the less visited and wilder valley in the shadow of Gauri Shankar, and protected by the goddess Tseringma.&nbsp; Noted Rolwaling Sherpas include Chhiring Dorje who made the heroic rescue on K2 in 2008, Dawa Yangzum, the first Nepali woman to summit all 14 eight-thousanders, Tamting Sherpa who has also climbed all 8,000m peaks, TGemba Tsheri who became the youngest person to climb Everst at age 16 in 2001. <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/power-of-the-periphery/deep-ecologists/75228182BC490F8AC31C8E4C8335F435" target="_blank">Rolwaling also has a strong Norwegian connection</a>, it is where <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2009/jan/15/obituary-arne-naess" target="_blank">Arne Næss</a> who coined the term ‘deep ecology’, and mountaineer and eco-philosopher <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/norway-nepal-a-love-story" target="_blank">Sigmund Kvaløy</a> did their research and exploration in 1971.&nbsp; There is one interesting tidbit with contemporary non-mountaineering relevance from Guilt &amp; Glory: Næss and Kvaløy’s Rowaling research was bankrolled by Arne’s brother Erling Dekke Næss, a Norwegian shipping magnate. But Rolwaling was a restricted area in those days because of Khampa activity, and the Norwegians approached Prince Gyanendra who granted them permission in return for setting up the Royal Nepal Shipping Corporation. Gyanendra became chair of that controversial company and Erling Næss was adviser. Guilt &amp; Glory is not just about mountaineering, and is sprinkled with anecdotes and encounters with everything from Maoists to yetis. It is written with compassion and a deep respect for Nepal and its people.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017111028_3fd1da00a1362a6c3f07807ec55b9e5d9163c11fb759aa09530a5ea486751d24" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Guilt &amp; Glory book"> </figure>

West meets East in the Himalaya

In the very first page of the first chapter of Nepal 2043: The Road to Prosperity are two maps. The first places Nepal right at the epicentre of Asia, and in the second the Kathmandu is at exactly the midpoint between Mumbai and Beijing. With his trademark optimism, author Sujeev Shakya says Nepal is not land-locked but land-linked to three billion people in China and India. We just need those two economic engines to pull us in the same direction. ‘With China and India becoming the two largest economies in the world in the next two decades … Nepal is the most valuable piece of real estate in the world,’ Shakya writes. For one thing, Nepal does not look beyond India and China for tourism — with the right policies it can attract millions of tourists just from those two countries. Nepal is set to graduate from a low- to a middle-income country by 2026 and to a high-income country in 2043 — hence the name of the book. The year 2043 in the Bikram Sambat calendar is also 2100 — a new Nepali century. The book delves into the past, present and future of Nepal and analyses enablers including hydropower, a fundamental transformation of which will drive the 2043 goal. The commoditisation of electricity will be the biggest transformation. Nepal can deploy ‘Cyber Gurkhas’ to attract foreign investors with the management of data centres with climate friendly renewable energy. Access to technology such as precision agriculture, a data-driven approach to farming to improve food production, reduce environmental impact and enhance profitability could be Nepal’s strategy into 2043 and beyond. ‘Earlier, we needed ploughs and strong hands in agriculture. Now, you need a computer and strong fingers,” Shakya writes, citing a neighbour’s son who inspects his crops from drone cameras. A farmer in an Ilam teashop tells the author he asks AI questions in Nepali, and it answers promptly. The biggest enabler of all is Nepal’s young demography with 62% of the population in the active 15-60 age bracket, while 28% are younger than 14. Nepal’s dependency ratio has dropped to the lowest in history with 100 Nepalis having to support 62 dependents. But this demographic dividend window is closing. Nepal’s total fertility rate declined from 2.62% in 1981 to 0.92% in 2021 — below replacement level. We have less than 30 years left to make the best use of the youth, many of whom are currently studying and working abroad. Nepal’s biggest resource, therefore, is its diaspora spread across the world who send home $20 billion a year. Migration is not just a necessity but an aspiration for many Nepalis, and they are an important source of contacts, investment and soft power. This young and educated group has taken advantage of connectivity and digitisation in all arenas of national life. TikTok and Instagram have become e-commerce platforms, or mobile app-riven digital services. Nepal’s software companies exported over $1 billion worth of IT products last year. Next we need a change in the bureaucratic mindset to eliminate paper and manual processes, which would also contribute to reducing corruption. Shakya comes up with many revelations: 81% of Nepalis live in houses they own, much higher than most other South Asian countries which means higher disposable income. Nepal has the highest tax-to-GDP ratio in South Asia. The banking sector is twice the size of Bangladesh despite Nepal having just one-fifth of its population. In 2021, 12.62% of the population had demat accounts in Nepal, while India had only 5.32%. For every five male investors, there are four women in Nepal while it is 10:1 in India. With such figures and prospects, how come Nepal just went through a violent uprising that took the shortest time to topple a democratically-elected government in modern history? One early chapter of 2043 is actually dedicated to how Nepalis have always thrived on chaos. When people faced up to 20 hours of power cuts a day, people worked around the load-shedding schedule, woke up at ungodly hours to cook and stock up on inverters. They did not put up a fight, or even protest. ''Generally, Nepalis are used to taking things lying down, and perhaps this also needs to change,' says Shakya, writing that line before last month’s uprising. ‘On the one hand, some of these issues speak volumes about the average Nepali’s patience and perhaps optimism that things will change in the long run. On the other hand, one is also forced to wonder how much longer they will be able to put up with unfavourable conditions if things don’t change.’ It does seem Nepali had enough with corruption, governance failure and political apathy to the concerns of ordinary people. The final chapter lists the non-negotiables to realise the 2043 Nepal Roadmap: democratic values and freedom of speech, a capitalist welfare state and socio-political transformation to tackle corruption and impunity. The book notes, ‘Countries transitioning to democratic rule experienced a 20% increase in GDP over a 25 year period compared to what they would have achieved under authoritarian regimes. After the end of the Shah rule in 2006, Nepal’s GDP rose from US$10 billion to US$44 billion by 2024.’ The government’s Vision 2030 document projects Nepal’s GDP at US$100 billion, and the Vision 2043 estimates that it will be a US$423 billion economy with a per capita of US$12,100. However, it will need more than optimism and practical action to make these projections real. China and India loom large throughout the book with examples of small city states like Singapore which have taken advantage of their strategic location. Despite the tension between India and China, the two will have to collaborate given the inherent advantages. China has replaced the United States as India’s biggest trading partner. Sujeev Shakya is a great admirer of former Singaporean diplomat and author Kishore Mahbubani, and he has written a blurb for the book. He quotes Mahbubani saying that for the past 2,000 years, apart from the last two hundred, Asian countries have dominated the world, and it is quite natural that the world’s economic centre is returning to Asia. And Nepal is strategically placed to make the most of it because of its location between two of the world’s fastest growing economies. We just have to get our politics right, and have a strategy for equitable growth in the new Nepali century.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251016091052_78b2d1495d59cd492a17693e0e770b65230c7cb749393ac6643f4676b73832ef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Sujeev Shakya book details NT"></figure>

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

This year, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/quo-vadis-un-80-9vthn7mg">United Nations is marking its 80th anniversary</a> and it is being celebrated with special events across the world to commemorate its establishment on 24 October 1945. It has also been 75 years since the first UN adviser, the Swiss geologist Toni Hagen, was sent to Nepal to explore development opportunities. In 1950, there were no roads and Hagen walked on foot across the length and breadth of Nepal’s mountains, valleys and plains. This year also marks the 60th anniversary of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) in Nepal, and much of Hagen’s work laid the basis for the UN’s involvement in education, health, and connectivity in Nepal’s future development. Despite frequent changes in government and political system, Nepal has made remarkable progress. The poverty rate has gone down by half in the past 30 years to 20.27% of the population. Much of it has to do with remittances from Nepalis working overseas, but it is also a result of the Nepal government’s investment in education, health care and social welfare.&nbsp; There have been special initiatives like the Prime Minister’s Employment Program that have provided jobs to nearly 800,000 people in the country’s 743 municipalities — especially in those areas with lower Human Development Index (HDI) like the far-west and the Tarai.&nbsp; This year’s HDI report by UNDP shows that Nepal’s score had risen to 0.622, whereas it was only 0.404 in 1990. In the past 33 years, the average lifespan of Nepalis has risen by 15.6 years to 70.4 years, whereas it was only 54.8 in 1990. However, the country’s HDI ranking is still 145 among the world’s 193 countries. “Yes, there has been significant improvement in living standards in the past 60 years, road connectivity has improved, the maternal mortality rate has gone down dramatically, almost everyone has phones, there are schools,” says Saru Joshi of the thinktank Nepal Policy Institute. But, she adds: “It is still difficult to get citizenship papers, especially in the name of the mother, and this has excluded many women from banking services, inheritance. After all our progress in physical infrastructure, Nepal now needs to prioritise inclusive social development.”&nbsp; Some of this is also happening. Eighteen years ago, Nabaraj Subedi, 49, of a village in Baglung decided not to join his peers &nbsp;fleeing the Maoist conflict to find work overseas. He invested Rs500,000 to buy a diesel generator and start a small furniture business.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251024071044_eeef308e19a73de507a425b2c6afc47269884549cf4c8fac07ca9a4898c8e031" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nawaraj Subedi"> <figcaption>Nawaraj Subedi, 49, proprietor of Tarakhola Furniture Factory. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, with the installation of the 380 kilowatt small hydroelectric plant, he does not need to depend on his unreliable generator to power his equipment anymore. There is now a road connecting his village, and Subedi has generated local jobs, opened a sales branch in the city, and gets orders from as far away as Pokhara and Chitwan. “My costs have gone down drastically because of the electricity, and sales have gone up because of the road connecting my furniture to markets. My business has expanded,” Subedi says. Back in 1960 in a report he prepared for the Nepal government on behalf of the United Nations, Toni Hagen had emphasised just this: investing in electricity generation and connectivity to uplift the remote rural areas of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251024081024_188ab121dc3cf2816ee71a72cb3687493eda37ab99ecc04802d647c8c9b4cd2d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Tarakhola Furniture Factory"> <figcaption>Subedi's staff at the Tarakhola Furniture Factory.</figcaption> </figure>  Subedi’s furniture factory gets its electricity from the nearby Tarakhola Hydropower, a company set up eight years ago with financial and technical support from UNDP’s Renewable Energy for Rural Livelihood (RERL) project. &nbsp; “The project completely transformed living standards in this village,” says municipality chair Dhan Bahadur BK. “It has helped create jobs locally, there is now money to invest in education and healthcare. Households can pay their electricity fees electronically through smart billing.”&nbsp; After working with the government on rural electrification, UNDP is focussed on using that power for local employment creation. A women’s group, for example, has bought an electric-powered potato processing machine that can produce chips.&nbsp; “We are 12 of us mothers, daughters, daughters-in-law who process, package and market the potato that we grow ourselves, and it has raised our income,” says Sukmaya Roka, 57, who chairs the group.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251024071044_70b22418699178bcdd0abb0aa308796980ecd29634bcda6ff113a7624e709751" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Sukamaya Roka"> <figcaption>Sukamaya Roka, 57, chair of Sipa Aalu Chips Utpadan Samuha from Tarakhola Rural Municipality, Baglung. </figcaption> </figure>  Today, 6.1 million households in Nepal (92.2% of total) have electricity in their homes, up from 17.9% 30 years ago. Access to electricity has not just brought lights to homes, but improved everything from productivity, quality of education, healthcare and phone connectivity.&nbsp; “To see what electricity and roads can do, just look at our municipality,” says chair Dhan Bahadur BK, “citizens have become more self-reliant, more aware of the outside world.”&nbsp; NETTLES INTO CASH&nbsp; Just a little bit of training, resource backup and local empowerment can uplift the living standards of Nepalis. The progress made in harvesting abundantly-available allo (nettles) and turning it into household products is an example. When a landslide swept away his home and farm in a flood 40 years ago, Buddhi Purja of Parbat became destitute. But he took part in a government training program supported by UNDP and Australia to harvest the wild nettles that grew on mountain slopes and turn the fabric into bags.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251024071048_56c440c478dffbc13911369b6f4133baf658cc3667773cdb44b7c40e006463ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Rhitu Saugat Handicraft"> <figcaption>A worker at Rhitu Saugat Handicraft making a bag out of nettles.</figcaption> </figure>  “After the landslide, we had to go hungry if we did not get a day job,” Purja recalls, “but after this training we have found that we can turn nettles into cash.” His allo bags are now hanging in tourist shops in Pokhara Lakeside and Thamel.&nbsp; The idea that nettles can be processed into useful fabric has not spread across the country, and new ecologically conscious consumers in Europe and elsewhere now import Made in Nepal nettle products.&nbsp; Purja started out with an investment of Rs500,000, and had a Rs20 million business that employed 25 workers. The Covid crisis in 2020 affected the sales, but Purja has recovered from it, sent his daughter off to study abroad, and is thinking of diversifying his product range.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251024071044_ab6d15abcbb9a643e12a384f4bc488b7e210a8c95303fbe1b2f77716d26eede9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Buddi Purja"> <figcaption>Buddi Purja, proprietor of Rhitu Saugat Handicraft in Pokhara.</figcaption> </figure>  While UNDP’s project has made successful businessmen out of people like Purja, nationwide it has created 187,000 jobs in rural medium-scale industries. Much of what has worked in Nepal has been at the community level with decentralised projects like these that use the entrepreneurship of people like Buddhi Purja, Navaraj Subedi, and Sukmaya Roka. It is tantalising to imagine how much more progress Nepal would have made if their work could be replicated nationside and upscaled to the state-level.

Think locally, invest locally

The winter air pollution season started early this year with emissions, Diwali firecrackers and crop residue burning making the air unbreathable across north India. Much of the pollution was transboundary, with prevailing winds carrying the suspended particulates from Pakistan, across India to Nepal and beyond. All this pollution and domestic emissions killed 41,300 in Nepal in 2023, and 85% of all deaths were because of noncommunicable diseases such as heart and lung disease, lung cancer, diabetes, and dementia, according to the State of Global Air (SoGA) 2025 report released Thursday. With the onset of winter, Kathmandu Valley’s own emissions are trapped in a surface inversion layer and as in previous years will have some of the worst air quality in the world.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131016_7c42a4e8b0dce01dfeeaaf89dbb10dbfa036b41163f3ebada88c7ce17dbded49.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251023131016_7c42a4e8b0dce01dfeeaaf89dbb10dbfa036b41163f3ebada88c7ce17dbded49" data-rendition-name="original" width="921" height="850" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  The SoGa report says air pollution has now become the leading risk factor for deaths in Nepal, ahead of tobacco and high blood pressure. Interestingly, while the health impacts due to environmental risk factors such as unsafe water and sanitation have reduced significantly since 2000, the opposite is true for ambient PM2.5 (particles smaller than 2.5 microns). Globally, 7.9 million deaths were attributable to air pollution– about 1 in 8 deaths – in 2023. Of this total, 4.9 million deaths were attributable to PM2.5 exposure, 2.8 million were from household air pollution, and 470,000 were from ozone. Similarly, dementia attributable to air pollution resulted in 626,000 deaths and 40 million healthy years of life lost. And 95% of air pollution attributable deaths in adults over the age of 60 are due to noncommunicable diseases. The burden of noncommunicable diseases in relation to air pollution is rising worldwide and in Nepal. The SoGA report shows that nearly nine of ten global air pollution deaths are from chronic ailments, and half of all respiratory disease deaths are attributable to air pollution.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131020_8577f464b4a73007de5dd018b8ac91dae3a9c732dbb81a44b6aa5a0ced7df3df.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251023131020_8577f464b4a73007de5dd018b8ac91dae3a9c732dbb81a44b6aa5a0ced7df3df" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  In Nepal, air pollution is responsible for three out of four COPD deaths, one out of three heart deaths and one out of five diabetes deaths. More than one third of lower respiratory infection deaths were due to air pollution. “The data presented in the State of Global Air report highlight the significant impacts of poor air quality on the health and well-being of billions of people around the world, especially those living in Asia and Africa,” says Pallavi Pant of the Boston-based Health Effects Institute (HEI) that released the report in collaboration with the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation and the NCD Alliance. She adds: “Growing momentum on air quality management across those hard-hit locations, including expansion of air quality monitoring, adoption of air quality regulations, and sector-specific interventions are yielding improvements for those most impacted.” Low- and middle-income countries stand to gain most by reducing air pollution, with particularly strong impacts on children, older populations, and people with pre-existing health conditions. Indeed, of the 41,300 air pollution deaths in 2023 in Nepal, 31,600 were in adults over the age of 60 years and 3,500 in children below five years. Death rate for air pollution in Nepal, which is 178 per 100,000, is more than 10 times higher than high-income countries, which is at 17 per 100,000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251023131020_604e852aed4ffde0dc7d1df72fcd3e73d904136dfb1bb2407e53b7445f3ef72c.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251023131020_604e852aed4ffde0dc7d1df72fcd3e73d904136dfb1bb2407e53b7445f3ef72c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1078" height="423" loading="lazy" alt="Air pollution killing season starts early NT"> </figure>  “Win-win solutions for air pollution and NCDs exist, with added benefits for climate, physical activity, nutrition, and many other global development priorities,” says Alison Cox, Policy and Advocacy Director at the Geneva-based NCD Alliance. “These policies are effective and deliver a strong return on investment - for the sake of our people and the planet we need to implement them faster.” Fine particle pollution (ambient PM2.5) is the largest driver of air pollution’s burden of disease worldwide as kit attributed to 4.9 million deaths and 124 million healthy years of life lost in 2023. Vehicles, power plants, factories, and homes, as well as agricultural and industrial activities, waste burning and wildfires are some of the biggest sources of pollutants. South Asia is among the regions of the world with the highest exposures to ambient PM2.5 , while more than 36% of people around the world live in areas where PM2.5 levels do not meet even the least stringent interim target. As per the report, 78% of Nepal’s 30 million population lives in areas where annual PM2.5 exposure exceeds the least stringent WHO Air Quality Interim Target of 35 µg/m3. Meanwhile, exposure to household air pollution due to the use of solid fuels for cooking remains an important driver for the disease burden in the country. “Ongoing efforts to meet global development goals are not achievable without directly addressing air pollution,” says Maria Neira, Commissioner of Our Common Air. “Countries and cities must focus their efforts toward reducing air pollution emissions, including household air pollution, which has particularly severe impacts on young children and older people across Asia and Africa.”

Air pollution killing season starts early

Nikita Gautam was watching angry street protests from the terrace of her home in Gaushala on 9 September when a group started attacking the police station across the road. Soon, it was on fire. Police fired back, and a bullet tore through Nikita’s chest and hit another neighbour who was also watching. Nikita died on the way to hospital.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101712108_5257071d3688c9340a577ac80ec7af1b7e1130332c0cfcb9291583cdf981f339.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101712108_5257071d3688c9340a577ac80ec7af1b7e1130332c0cfcb9291583cdf981f339" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>LIVE ROUND: The police bullet that pierced 19-year-old Nikita Gautam, killing her, was lodged in the body of a neighbour on 9 September. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Nikita, 19, had just completed high school and was among 75 people killed during Nepal’s violent GenZ protests last month. For their families the Dasain festival was spent in mourning. Tihar will be just memories. Bhai Tika, the sibling ritual which this year falls on 23 October, will be especially poignant for those who have lost their sisters or brothers in the protests.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_c889f6e100068a0eda93014152d3cc0877a365feb6f525de1b3a2024c279e995.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251017121012_c889f6e100068a0eda93014152d3cc0877a365feb6f525de1b3a2024c279e995" data-rendition-name="original" width="609" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Nikita with her brother Nirmal (right) at Bhai Tika before he left for Denmark two years ago. Photo courtesy: NIRMAL GAUTAM</figcaption> </figure>  Nikita’s brother, Nirmal, is studying in Denmark and the siblings were very close. He was trying to find a way to get Nikita also enrolled in college in Denmark. “We used to talk daily on video call, she used to tell me whatever she couldn’t share with our parents,” a distraught Nirmal told us. “She was taking photos and videos of the GenZ protests and sending it to me.” Nirmal had not been back for Bhai Tika the last two years, but was planning to visit this year. He rushed back to Nepal after finding out about his sister, but there is no Nikita to put a tika on his forehead.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_d085fdc310ff048f870c87c41b940407640488ab010cadca109f1d1725e870b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251017121012_d085fdc310ff048f870c87c41b940407640488ab010cadca109f1d1725e870b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1001" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Nikita's mother Kalpana Gautam is still in shock more than a month after GenZ protest that killed her daughter.</figcaption> </figure>  The Gautam family is originally from Chitwan, moved to Kathmandu 33 years ago and lived in a rented flat 200m from the police station at the Gaushala intersection. A month later, their mother Kalpana Gautam is still in shock. Nikita was a loving child who took care of the children in the neighbourhood. She says: “With Nikita gone, we cannot console ourselves.” Nirmal has now returned to Denmark, and cannot come to terms with the void that losing his sister has left. “There is nothing left to do for me but to relive in my mind the countless memories of my sister.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_5cdc08e8dce7c1fcc5c27ef3d26a48814b70234f023ddf4afdbe7dd77cc5aad0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251017121012_5cdc08e8dce7c1fcc5c27ef3d26a48814b70234f023ddf4afdbe7dd77cc5aad0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Unable to bear the memories of Nikita, her parents have gotten rid of almost all of her stuff except this photo album.</figcaption> </figure>  UMESH MAHAT On the same day that he got his work visa for the UAE, 20-year-old Umesh Mahat was also shot at the Gaushala intersection. Umesh’s sister Sumitra, 29, is the eldest of four siblings. Their parents are still in their hometown in Sindhupalchok. “Our family’s happiness has been snatched, there is a gaping hole that cannot be filled. There is no Bhai Tika this year,” says a tearful Sumita.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_45fb7e83a9ceb1a7d14364e97f4c5535271ae1a76238a4c384e6a5ff0f8da202.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017121016_45fb7e83a9ceb1a7d14364e97f4c5535271ae1a76238a4c384e6a5ff0f8da202" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1002" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>TEARS IN HEAVEN: Sumitra Mahat's brother, Umesh, was killed when the police opened fire on protesters on 9 September. </figcaption> </figure>  Umesh was fun-loving, always respectful and willing to help others. He was close to the family and was the glue that held everyone together. He was good in studies and sports, and loved to play football. Sumitra’s 10-year-old son is still in shock, not quite comprehending the enormity of the loss of his uncle. Members of the family say it is pointless living in a country that kills its own. Umesh has been declared a martyr, but Sumitra and the family want those responsible punished, the individuals who ordered firing. “He used to tell me not to worry about his protests, that he is there and will always take care of the family,” recalls Sumitra. “He is gone forever and will not be taking care of anyone anymore.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_fb60559e8fe82d678065cdfae8c887f8e9ee1450cd9ee42ec5f2af8879c4902f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251017121016_fb60559e8fe82d678065cdfae8c887f8e9ee1450cd9ee42ec5f2af8879c4902f" data-rendition-name="original" width="225" height="224" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Umesh Mahat. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  GAURAV JOSHI Gaurav Joshi, 27, was killed on 9 September. His sister Ayusha has been posting videos and raising her voice through social media. She recalls the last conversation she had with her brother where he told her he was coming home soon after the curfew was imposed on 8 September. Minutes later, he had been shot outside Parliament. His last words still ring in her ears, and they haunt Ayusha. Her posts on social media hold the police and previous administration accountable, demanding that the new government focus on justice and not festivities.&nbsp; While the rest of Nepal celebrates Dasain, tihar and Chhath the families of those killed in the GenZ protests are making rounds of Singha Darbar and Baluwatar seeking justice.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_34012d814325cdb16cd63001c683db37a28695deb89ab48729aad5e1a630a4bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017121016_34012d814325cdb16cd63001c683db37a28695deb89ab48729aad5e1a630a4bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="488" height="519" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Gaurav Joshi. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  They want information about who gave the orders and who executed those orders to shoot students point blank in the head, and chest with live bullets from automatic weapons. Families of the victims say their children were purposefully targeted and are angry that the investigation is too slow, and may absolve the culprits. Sumitra Mahat is making rounds of government offices in Kathmandu. She says: “We have been going round and round in circles for a month from one office to another. No one listens to our demands for justice. We want the perpetrators punished, but it feels like they are dragging their feet.”

Dark Tihar

Nepal needs to enact and enforce animal law

While the streets of Kathmandu were erupting violent GenZ protests that brought down the government, Nepal’s athletes were achieving different kinds of breakthroughs on Spain’s mountain trails and in the cricket qualifiers in the UAE.&nbsp; On 27 September, two weeks after the uprising back home, Nepal's cricket team stunned the sporting world with their first-ever victory against a full member nation — defeating two-time World Cup champions West Indies by 19 runs, then crushing them by 90 runs two days later to seal a historic 2-0 series victory. On that very day, 5,000km away in the Spanish Pyrenees Sunmaya Budha stood on a podium alongside American and European champions, clutching a silver medal from the 3rd World Mountain and Trail Running Championships. No Asian athlete had ever finished this high in the Long Trail competition at the World Championships. While youth back home showed they would not tolerate injustice and could carve their own future, young Nepalis were securing it on the global sports stage even in moments of national crisis.&nbsp; The Long Trail event at the 2025 World Championships was designed to break even the strongest athletes. Stretching 82km through the Spanish Pyrenees, the course features an unrelenting 5,413m of elevation gain and descent.&nbsp; Athletes faced everything from steep scree slopes to narrow ridge lines, from boulder fields requiring scrambling to precipitous descents demanding total concentration. One misstep could mean injury, one lapse in focus could cost precious minutes.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_81152b4754331c4858ed2d0d28204e6a92559faf089fea9ebc84156766ff228a.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101909108_81152b4754331c4858ed2d0d28204e6a92559faf089fea9ebc84156766ff228a" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="731" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>The Nepal team at the World Championships 2025 with the final four: Sangge Sherpa, Sunmaya Budha, Suman Kulung, Man Kumar Roka Magar. Photo: PREETI KHATTRI</figcaption> </figure>  WOMEN'S COMPETITION Katie Schide (USA) - Winner • Time: 9:57:59 • Average pace: 7:18 per km&nbsp; &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/sunmaya.budha.942">Sunmaya Budha </a>(Nepal) - Silver Medal • Time: 10:23:03 • Gap behind winner: 25 minutes and 4 seconds • Average pace: 7:36 per km Most recreational trail runners need 18-24 hours to complete this course, if they can finish it at all. Budha's pace means she was running at a speed that most casual runners could not maintain on a flat course, let alone while constantly climbing and descending mountains. MEN'S COMPETITION Jim Walmsley (USA) - Winner • Time: 8:35:11 • Average pace: 6:17 per kilometer (10:07 per mile) &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/runnersumankulung">Suman Kulung (Nepal)</a> - 32nd Place • Time: 10:06:25 • Average pace: 7:24 per km • Finished 1 hour 31 minutes behind the winner • Best performance by an Asian male athlete &nbsp; <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rokamagarmankumar764">Man Kumar Roka Magar (Nepal)</a> - 37th Place • Time: 10:10:53 • Average pace: 7:27 per km • Finished just 4.5 minutes behind Kulung <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Yetimannnnn">Sangge Sherpa (Nepal)</a> - 116th Place • Time: 12:33:09 • Average pace: 9:11 per km  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_2255845b43e68b14d3b111099124f9c98898bbe9016299b9af278aca8b4377f7.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025101909108_2255845b43e68b14d3b111099124f9c98898bbe9016299b9af278aca8b4377f7" data-rendition-name="original" width="977" height="904" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Sangge Sherpa organising himself post gear check in Can-Franc.</figcaption> </figure>  The men's winner averaged about 6:17/km on a course where elite mountain runners were struggling. Kulung and Roka Magar maintained a 7:24-7:27/km pace—faster than many recreational runners' easy flat road pace. They were faster than dozens of European athletes who train in the Alps. Even Sherpa's 9:11/km average pace over 12+ hours represents an extraordinary feat of endurance, maintaining forward progress on some of the most challenging mountain terrain in competitive trail running. “What set Budha apart was her exceptional descending ability. She recorded the fastest downhill speed among all women in the competition—a skill honed through years of training on Nepal’s steep mountain trails,” said her team director Ryan S Blair.&nbsp; Sunmaya Budha, ranked world 8th for 100km category events and 17th in the world by the International Trail Running Association (ITRA), entered the race having recently recovered from injuries to both legs.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_38d8bee04beaa6443480ecf4765e6b34f91d2d105128f292f73702072a820d25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2025101909108_38d8bee04beaa6443480ecf4765e6b34f91d2d105128f292f73702072a820d25" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1070" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Sunmaya storming in 2nd position. Photo: WMTRC2025 CANFRAC </figcaption> </figure>  While American Katie Schide dominated from the front, Budha found herself in an intense battle for second place with Italy's Fabiola Conti, a specialised skyrace and mountain marathon runner. The two runners remained locked together through much of the course, running side-by-side at key checkpoints and pushing each other through the mountain wilderness. In ultra-trail racing, where climbs are often win by fractions of minutes, the ability to descend fearlessly and efficiently can make the difference between podium positions. Budha's technical prowess on the descents gave her a advantage over her European competitors. The decisive moment came in the final 20km. At the 65km mark, Budha held a 90-second lead over Conti. By 71.5km she had extended her advantage to eight minutes — a commanding gap she maintained to the finish. In a powerful display of national pride, she approached the finish wrapped in the Nepali flag, showing the world what Himalayan athletes can achieve on the global stage. Said Preeti Khattri, team lead for Nepal: "Standing right beside the USA and European peer. Proud. No Asian athletes have ever made it this far.” MEN, TOO While Budha captured headlines with her silver medal, the performances of Suman Kulung and Man Kumar Roka Magar were equally significant. Both athletes topped Asian athletes and numerous European competitors. Suman Kulung delivered a performance that demonstrated extraordinary mental toughness and racing intelligence. What makes his 32nd place finish even more impressive is that 1.5km he encountered a severe bottleneck on narrow technical trails.&nbsp; This critical delay pushed him back to around 92nd position—a devastating setback in a world championship race where every second counts. Many athletes would have been demoralised by such an early disaster.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101909108_e2f358723ea8abaa262e749a4c6afb0a179cf9f3e0bb4eab1d973e25b9b00f09.png" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025101909108_e2f358723ea8abaa262e749a4c6afb0a179cf9f3e0bb4eab1d973e25b9b00f09" data-rendition-name="original" width="668" height="445" loading="lazy" alt="World Mountain and Trail Running Championships"> <figcaption>Suman Kulung coming through 65km Assisted Checkpoint. Photo: DR SIGRID FOUNDATION</figcaption> </figure>  But Kulung showed why he is Nepal's top-ranked trail runner: he launched a spectacular comeback. By the 30km mark, he had charged through the field to reach approximately 20th position — recovering over 70 places in less than 30km.&nbsp; His final time of 10:06:25 placed him ahead of runners from traditional mountain running powers including Switzerland, Austria, and Germany, and was the highest-finishing Asian male athlete in the competition.

Nepali runners score breakthroughs

Top news

Twenty years ago this week, we reported about how malnutrition was indirectly responsible for 70% of all child mortality in Nepal, and how inadequate food increased susceptibility to diarrhoea, measles and acute respiratory infection.
In 2025, malnutrition is still one of the biggest causes of child mortality, except now it is not simply a lack of food but also too much junk food in the diet. Purchasing power has increased, but we are eating more of what we should not be eating.
Excerpt of a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=570">report </a>published in <a href="https://d1i1jdw69xsqx0.cloudfront.net/digitalhimalaya/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_256.pdf">issue #256 15 – 21 July 2005</a>:
Despite recent official statements about rising average living standards, grinding poverty and the conflict, the effects of junk food in cities have made undernourishment and malnutrition a serious national epidemic.
Protein-energy malnutrition affects 63 percent of Nepali children which means they don't get enough food to ensure normal physical and mental development. More than half of Nepali children are therefore physically stunted, and although this is reversible if the child starts eating enough after age two, they may suffer learning disabilities as well if undernourishment persists .
Hunger increases their susceptibility to diarrhoea, measles and acute respiratory infection. Diarrhoeal dehydration alone causes an estimated 30,000 child deaths every year as undernourished children are weaker and more likely to be brought down by the vicious spiral of disease and malnutrition. Combined with worms, undernourishment is seen by many as Nepal's primary health concern for children.
Malnutrition hits many Nepali children even before they are born because their mothers don't have adequate food while pregnant. Between 30-50 percent of Nepali children are born underweight, below 2.5 kg.
For archived material of Nepali Times of the past 20 years, site search: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/">nepalitimes.com</a>

Mitigating the Madhes water crisis

Is street-level hostility a challenge to liberal democracy?

Artful devotion

When truth becomes clickbait

Think locally, invest locally

Air pollution killing season starts early

Dark Tihar

Quo Vadis UN @80?

Nepal needs to enact and enforce animal law

Digitising the savant calligrapher

Nepali runners score breakthroughs

Climate

Meltpools in the Himalaya

In the heat of the moment

Blatten, Langtang, and Disasters Yet to Come?

Nepali Times 25th anniversary special: Rewind 2000-2025.

THIS WEEK ON E-PAPER

Opinions

What makes a Nepali?

Artful devotion

West meets East in the Himalaya

Retrofitting Nepal for future shocks

World Class Turkish

Buddha to Kolkata

Aloft on top

20YEARS AGO THIS WEEK

The past, the present, and the future are really one

Featured Videos

The healing power of music

Life and times of Nepal Government Railway

The cost of preserving Nepal’s past