<article>Ncell under its corporate social responsibility has taken up building and maintaining the Koteswor-Kalanki Ring road stretch with the Department of Forest and Soil Conservation with landscaping and building the green belt area for the project across 10.2km and will look after the belt till 2024.Says Andy Chong, CEO of Ncell: “We are delighted to contribute towards a healthy environment for people and community in line with the government’s objectives linked with Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and our Axiata Group’s aspiration of Net-zero carbon."</article>

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722f699c7e80680e0c2514jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1740" height="1205">Ncell under its corporate social responsibility has taken up building and maintaining the Koteswor-Kalanki Ring road stretch with the Department of Forest and Soil Conservation with landscaping and building the green belt area for the project across 10.2km and will look after the belt till 2024.Says Andy Chong, CEO of Ncell: “We are delighted to contribute towards a healthy environment for people and community in line with the government’s objectives linked with Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and our Axiata Group’s aspiration of Net-zero carbon."

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Business

Ncell Ring Road

Born in Khandbari in eastern Nepal, Parashuram Pathak helped his family around the farm, sold what they grew in the market and lent a hand in the kitchen.&nbsp; After working as a chef in Dubai, San Francisco, Denmark, Australia, and on cruise ships, Pathak has now brought back what he has learnt to the Tusa Restaurant in Bhaktapur that opened on Nepali New Year on 13 April. Tusa uses fresh indigenous ingredients from various parts of Nepal, and fuses them with international methods to produce unique dishes. Pathak is a global Nepali, and is introducing global Nepali cuisine to his homeland. Pathak left an executive chef job to intern at three-Michelin-starred Noma in Denmark, named the best restaurant in the world five times. Noma runs on a philosophy of foraging to rediscover wild local ingredients, and Tusa’s mission is similarly noble: preparing dishes with Nepali ingredients using modern techniques and equipment. “We are taking Nepali food beyond dal-bhat and momo, we are taking it international,” Pathak said on the phone from Sydney. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-baker-rises-to-the-top-in-denmark">Denmark’s best baker is a Nepali</a>, Vishad Onta  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240419180424_1312bc016cbb2fe59c6d4a78d1f8b463af4a10b3f79559a2405fd54ea5b3197a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240419180424_1312bc016cbb2fe59c6d4a78d1f8b463af4a10b3f79559a2405fd54ea5b3197a" data-rendition-name="original" width="801" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="The return of the natives Page 12 NT #1208"> <figcaption>Photo: PARASHURAM PATHAK/FACEBOOK</figcaption> </figure>  Pathak’s team in Nepal includes chefs Rupesh Bohara and Sagar Shrestha who have also worked extensively in Dubai and Australia, and share his vision. The three realised they shared the same dream, and over the past five years have travelled across Nepal to research their menu, collecting ingredients and ideas from homestays, food carts, and nature. The team then scouted for Nepal’s best architect, and zeroed in on Bhaktapur-based heritage conservationist Rabindra Puri who designed the Malla-era house for Tusa in the Nag Pokhari neighbourhood. Bohara and Shrestha have moved back to Nepal for good, and Pathak arrives in September. “I made dishes from all over the world, but when someone asked what Nepali food was like, I had no answer,” says Bohara, “I came back to find out.” &nbsp;“You can get citizenship, a green card, big houses and cars, but where is the self-satisfaction?” asks Shrestha, who has a red-and-blue chef’s knife with the sun and moon of the Nepali flag tattooed on his right forearm.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker"> The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240419180424_c601264463e5a28d4e71a46781f340a53619a08d00949a7aaebfef84e75a319d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240419180424_c601264463e5a28d4e71a46781f340a53619a08d00949a7aaebfef84e75a319d" data-rendition-name="original" width="6000" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="The return of the natives Page 12 NT #1208"> <figcaption>Photos: TUSA</figcaption> </figure>  Bohara and Shrestha passionately recount stories of their trips across Nepal, speaking of generous lodge owners who introduced them to local ingredients. Tusa can seat 28, and dining here is a sensory experience with a live kitchen. The chefs cook and place dishes on a large granite countertop with induction sections built in. Behind the counter is a grill on an indoor fire with pulley control to adjust the fire. Everything that can be made in Nepal — chairs and tables, ceramic dishes, the grill — is locally sourced. The executive kitchen/laboratory is downstairs. It is spacious, spotless, and contains appliances rarely seen in restaurants here: a sous vide machine that cooks vacuum-sealed packets at consistent temperatures, and a dehydrator for sisnu nettles. A fresh batch of deep purple kimbu (mulberry) muffins has just come out of the oven. Fridges have dry-aged fish and marigold kombucha. Fermentation seems to be the theme at Tusa, and Pathak explained: “Fermentation takes away the natural sugars in food, leaving behind a true, umami taste.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/vikings-khukri-passion">Viking's khukri passion</a>, Alisha Sijapati  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240419180424_c59e2b4230864f646bc36108adb951e95ec85da6156740294b1ec715b86acf89.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240419180424_c59e2b4230864f646bc36108adb951e95ec85da6156740294b1ec715b86acf89" data-rendition-name="original" width="5895" height="3930" loading="lazy" alt="The return of the natives Page 12 NT #1208"> </figure>  Tusa itself means ‘shoot’ in Nepali, and can be a dish of fermented bamboo shoots. The restaurant serves a tasting menu with six courses, plus surprises. It starts with a fermented potato and millet roti with charred green garlic and tomato chutney. The bread tastes like a mix of alu paratha and kodoko roti with a satisfying, mild flavour. The chefs do not show off, and overdo it. Dishes are tastefully simple and faithful, a theme that runs through the meal. The second course is a filet of fish charred on one side and placed in a broth. It is delicate and smokey, and does not mask the character of the fish.&nbsp; The next is Batuk Chukauni, a Magar dish with a lentil snack and a yoghurt-based potato achar. The batuk, made of lentil batter, is light and the chukauni has potatoes and peas. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/money-is-not-everything-but-you-need-money-for-everything">"Money is not everything, but you need money for everything"</a>, Rohit Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240419180424_e3f51228ff792e8d4297f81f8e67d138584e922ae035d131977494219e5e85c5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240419180424_e3f51228ff792e8d4297f81f8e67d138584e922ae035d131977494219e5e85c5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The return of the natives Page 12 NT #1208"> <figcaption>Batuk Chukauni. Photo: VISHAD ONTA</figcaption> </figure>  Next is a skewer of jackfruit with a tamarind and mustard glaze that has the texture of a slice of sausage and melts in the mouth. Then comes the first off-menu item: a steak of watermelon, glazed and grilled, tasting sweet, sour and smokey. After that a palate cleanser sorbet made with laligurans syrup adorned with a frozen candied rhododendron petal. Finally the main course: barbeque chicken and chyakla coarse corn grits. The chicken has been brined, marinated, cooked sous-vide and seared on the grill. The delicate consistency of the chicken stands out. Desert is a smooth, creamy cheesecake that uses the local juju-dhau yoghurt. And the last course is a moist, moss-green sisnu cake laced with mulberry jam and cream.&nbsp; There is nothing gimmicky about Tusa. It is the coming together of skilled Nepalis with international exposure who have mixed what they have learnt abroad with the flavours of home.&nbsp; The tasting menu is Rs3,500, and it may take some time before Nepalis develop a predilection for some of its items. The chefs are excited, vindicated, and relieved. Coming back to Nepal, uprooting successful careers abroad to take a chance on Nepal must not have been easy.&nbsp; Tusa had a soft launch on New Year’s day with Kathmandu-based diplomats. Australian Ambassador Felicity Volk was one of them, and wrote on a Facebook post: ‘Chefs who honed their skills in Australia and returned to Nepal to give back. We call it fine dining, they call it #cominghome.’ Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-baker-of-barpak">The baker of Barpak</a>, Tara Aryal Pandey

The return of the natives

For a year or two after the 25 April 2015 earthquake, the residents of Kathmandu were too terrified to return to their high-rise apartments. None of them collapsed in the 7.8 disaster, but many sustained serious structural damage. &nbsp;
Fast forward nine years, and they have all but forgotten that frightful day. Kathmandu is back to building substandard structures, even as land prices drive developers to build taller.&nbsp;
With no more space to spread horizontally, Kathmandu is going vertical. But structural engineers say most of the high rises do not take into account seismicity, soil condition, construction methods, quality of raw materials, fire hazard, and search and rescue in collapsed concrete structures.
“Much of our focus since the 2015 earthquake has been on building and construction, but not as much on where we are building,” warns Sangeeta Singh, Professor of Urban Planning and Deputy Director of Centre for Disaster Studies at the Institute of Engineering.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/in-a-disastrous-state">In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale
She adds: “Kathmandu is not really suited for high-rises. We have to first test the condition of the soil, but building permits are being issued without this fundamental step.”
Kathmandu Valley is a former lakebed with soft topsoil prone to liquefaction and excessive shaking, as seen during the 1934 megaquake. Many ruptures tore up the surface in 2015. &nbsp;
During an earthquake, the rock layers below Kathmandu ring like a bell and the vibrations on the surface take between 0.5 to 2 seconds for one oscillation. Buildings also vibrate, but at different frequencies depending on their height, construction material, and arrangement of their structural components.
At five floors, the vibration period of a building is 0.5 seconds, which is the same as that for Kathmandu Valley, and this could cause more damage, says structural engineer Surya Narayan Shrestha at the National Society for Earthquake Technology - Nepal (NSET).
“Building anything that is five storeys or higher in Kathmandu needs special design and structural considerations,” says Shrestha.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/shaking-things-up">Shaking things up</a>, Editorial
Technologies exist to reduce seismic risk in high-rises, and these are used in earthquake-prone cities like Tokyo, Los Angeles, Jakarta or Mexico City.&nbsp;
Base isolation, for example, separates the vibration of the land and the building, reducing damage from soil-building resonance. Base isolators move and stretch under pressure, absorbing much of an earthquake's impact by reducing swaying and shaking. &nbsp;
Seismic dampers change the pattern of vibration altogether, dissipating energy as vibrations move across a structure. But these are all expensive technologies, and none of the high-rises in Kathmandu use them.
However, Nepali engineers who can help with technology transfer are working in the field in Nepal and overseas. Kathmandu’s high-rises are already very expensive, and making them seismic-resistant would be an incremental cost.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/learning-from-jajarkot-what-we-didnt-after-2015-695vpzle">Learning from Jajarkot what we didn't after 2015</a>, Sushil Gyewali
The shape of high-rises also matters. Reinforced concrete buildings with asymmetric designs of the kind that are seen in newer structures in Kathmandu experience more torsion and shear during quakes. High-rises with regular geometry are stronger. &nbsp;&nbsp;
An even bigger concern is that of emergency evacuation and rescue in case of fire or earthquake. Kathmandu fire services do not have ladders that reach the higher floors of most new structures.
“High-rises mean more people and potentially higher casualties,” explains Shrestha. “We need immediate evacuation routes, fire escapes, emergency ladders, and fire trucks that can reach higher. Right now, safety features are voluntary and not mandatory.”
The street access, shelters, open spaces, and evacuation routes are integral to disaster preparedness and the safety of neighbourhoods and not just buildings. Most new high-rises in Kathmandu have narrow access roads.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later">Rebuilding resilience 7 years later</a>, Anil Pokhrel
Since most of the buildings that survived the 2015 disaster were reinforced concrete structures, it fed the misconception that they are safer. But Himalayan seismologists say that if the intensity and duration of the shaking had been just a little higher, many substandard concrete structures would have collapsed.&nbsp;
And that is the final gap: Nepal’s limited expertise and equipment for search and rescue inside collapsed concrete structures. Kathmandu’s high-rises need to be better prepared for the next Big One.
“Structural safety and design were at the front and the centre after the 2015 earthquake, we also revised some building codes but we are back to square one with contractor-driven construction, especially in peri-urban areas,” says Sangeeta Singh, who is also with the National Planning Commission. “We need to monitor construction as much as design.”&nbsp;
Shrestha at NSET agrees there have been improvements in building practices in the past nine years, but adds, “We have both learnt and unlearnt lessons from 2015. The awareness hasn’t yet translated into action on safety.”
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu">Lessons not learned from 2015</a>, Sonia Awale

The rise of high-rises

Midway along the stretch of the ancient trade route between Tibet and India lies the Kel Tol neighbourhood. The name is derived from the original Koligrām, and it is believed the Koli people, who were originally from Rāmagrām in present-day southern Nepal near the Indian border, settled here. The Koli were the maternal ancestors of none other than the Buddha. Kel Tol is famous for the Buddhist monastic complex of Kanak Chaitya Mahāvihar, featuring the majestic two-tiered gilded temple of the white god Karunāmaya.&nbsp; This elaborately decorated courtyard is a bustling centre of the Vajrayāna sect of Buddhism, practised widely by the indigenous Newā people of Kathmandu Valley. Karunāmaya, also known as Ārya Avalokiteshwor, is defined in great detail in the 1st century CE Buddhist text Sadharmapundarikā where he liberates all sentient beings from suffering. He helps rid the eight external fears metaphorically equated with their equivalent internal states of mind: lions (pride), wild elephants (ignorance), fire (anger), snakes (jealousy), floods (attachment), imprisonment (miserliness), thieves (wrong views) and cannibals (doubt).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_fe370cbee75003cd3eb5dccc7c3b2671630da193b0744db2aeac1bab3ff4a85c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240418130432_fe370cbee75003cd3eb5dccc7c3b2671630da193b0744db2aeac1bab3ff4a85c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1338" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  In the Pancha Rakshyā Sutra, a Buddhist scripture from 200 CE, Ārya Avalokiteshwor was counted among the eight major deities. Followers of the Brāhminical god Shiva worship Ārya Avalokiteshwor as Seto Machhindranāth. For Shaivites, Machhindranāth is the Indian saint who founded the Nāth cult in the 10th century CE. He is the guru of saint Gorakhnāth. During the reign of Yakshya Malla (1428–1482 CE), a beautiful image of Ārya Avalokiteshwor was dug up by a farmer in present-day Jamal, which was then a cultivated area outside the city. The farmer, known as a Jamami (meaning the one from Jamal) took the image home for safekeeping. That night, Ārya Avalokiteshwor appeared in the farmer’s dream and told him that the proper place for him to reside is at the confluence of two rivers. The nearest confluence was at present-day Wongha (Indrachok) and the image was installed in the Kanak Chaitya Mahāvihar complex in Kel Tol near Wongha. This made it easier for city residents to pay homage to Ārya Avalokiteshwor and spread compassion. Soon, the deity came to be revered highly as Jamaleshwor, the one found in Jamal. Eventually, the name got corrupted, as happens often in Nepāl Bhāsā, to Janabahā Dyo. The courtyard where his temple is located is now popularly known as Janabahā.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_5c9b219530e400445ef4e7f64856b43e7cdb756be26d9ed4565c84044c178a7e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240418130432_5c9b219530e400445ef4e7f64856b43e7cdb756be26d9ed4565c84044c178a7e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1668" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  The gilded temple of Janabahā Dyo, first built in the early 16th century CE, is adorned with wooden and metal artefacts that symbolise 108 forms of Ārya Avalokiteshwor. It stands out as the most decorated temple of its kind in Kathmandu. Today, Janabahā is a living heritage site where many ancient customs and rituals are widely practised as per Vajrayāna Buddhist tradition. Devotees throng the Janabahā Dyo shrine for daily worship and to receive Karunāmaya’s blessings. Being the compassionate one, Ārya Avalokiteshwor goes around town every year in his tall wooden chariot to allow sick and physically disabled devotees to pay homage to him from the comfort of their homes. One could say it is a door-to-door visit by the Compassionate One.&nbsp; For the pragmatic minded, the chariot festival is an annual renewal of communal harmony, validation of our ancient mathematical supremacy and demonstration of the need to keep practical skills alive, including the craft of building earthquake resilient houses.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_fc8b234ceca87dee4b99e897a485cef121fb953857fb61492a413fbfcc48360c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240418130432_fc8b234ceca87dee4b99e897a485cef121fb953857fb61492a413fbfcc48360c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  The Janabahā Dyo chariot is pulled from Jamal, where his image was found by the farmer, through the historic heart of Kathmandu in a gala parade every year. The procession, accompanied by folk music ensembles and revellers, starts on the eighth day of the bright half of the month of Chaitra, and lasts up to a week (ending on Saturday this year). Hundreds of devotees pull the chariot along the streets as a way of expressing their gratitude to lord Karunāmaya for blessing them with compassion and well-being. Purna Ratna Vajrāchārya is an ordained priest who belongs to the clan responsible for taking care of Janabahā Dyo. He has been studying the design and architecture of the chariot for the past 40 years, and overseeing its construction for the past 15. He has learnt that the engineering principles of building the chariot are based on the mathematical system in which Buddhism is taught. For example, 365 pieces of wood are used in the chariot, each representing a day of the year. Each of the four wheels consist of 25 pieces of wood, totalling 100, representing completeness or fulfilment. The chariot is vertically divided into 13 sections, a parallel to the Buddhist concept of Trayodashi Bhuvana that describes the 13 steps that one must take to achieve the state of Nirvana.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_36d9964c9845f6d9a074786361fc5ab7d49138503ad162086998b731349b0ec0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240418130432_36d9964c9845f6d9a074786361fc5ab7d49138503ad162086998b731349b0ec0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1668" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_2662753a9514a682ccdfd17bf05e2be3771183a68dc86b717ab67d9aad894563.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240418130432_2662753a9514a682ccdfd17bf05e2be3771183a68dc86b717ab67d9aad894563" data-rendition-name="original" width="1668" height="2500" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  &nbsp;Exactly nine types of wood are used, which is the sum of the four base elements that make up the universe (earth, water, fire and air) and the five human senses. The height and length of the chariot is 32 arm’s length (hāt in Sanskrit), 14.8m. The number 32 represents the maximum number of auspicious and physical qualities one could possess to be considered an outstanding human being.&nbsp; Says Vajrācharya, “Observing how the chariot is built helps one learn the fundamental pillars of the Buddha’s teachings, and find an easier path to Nirvana.” The structural design of the nearly 15m wooden chariot is not only awe-inspiring but also gravity-defying. It leverages the pliancy of the materials used in its construction -- flexible joints tied with cane soaked in water for several days. The precise proportions of the chariot ensure great manoeuverability in the narrow streets along the route of the chariot procession that include some 90° bends, without colliding into houses.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_9f5c2943f5d6b3f0010d3d5213697549945e87a6f7d3d8cbadd69f0dea6c6e2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240418130432_9f5c2943f5d6b3f0010d3d5213697549945e87a6f7d3d8cbadd69f0dea6c6e2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="3750" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  Driving and steering the chariot with brute muscle power of the mirthful crowd is a seemingly impossible task. But this has been achieved year after year, despite the fact that the devotees who tug wildly at the ropes lassoed to the two front wheels, are most likely in high-spirits (pun intended). Sanjay Manandhar, a US-based technology entrepreneur, recounts how his high school physics teacher from Canada asked his students to go observe the locals build the chariots of Karunāmaya if they were interested in becoming engineers in the future.&nbsp; “That made no sense to me then, but, after all these decades, I now see clearly how the structural design of the chariot, adopted early on by our ancestors is full of earthquake-resilient properties that need to be applied in building houses in an earthquake-prone zone like Nepal,” says Manandhar. A highlight of the chariot festival is that human goddess Kumari makes an appearance at the final destination in Lagan, usually on the third day. This is only one of the 13 times that people get to see the Kumari outside her temple abode.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240418130432_08aa39f3f004a212b33c60a2840d6013110de15dd34a0288f699dd5fda8957ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20240418130432_08aa39f3f004a212b33c60a2840d6013110de15dd34a0288f699dd5fda8957ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Seto Machhindranath"> </figure>  On the last day of the festival (Saturday), the image of lord Karunāmaya is carried on a palanquin by priests from Janabahā in a gala procession and brought back to his permanent residence at the temple in Kel Tol.&nbsp; The chariot festival is thought to have started during the reign of King Pratap Malla of Kantipur in the 17th century CE. For close to four centuries, the construction of the chariot and its operation has proven to be a phenomenal engineering feat, and the people’s faith in divinity means the tradition is alive.&nbsp; The essence of the colourful rituals and the religious beliefs of this ancient chariot festival is now all but lost. The logic, technology and practicality must be brought back to light, as they reflect the high civilisation and wisdom of our ancestors that we can leverage in modern times and into the future. &nbsp; Alok Tuladhar is a culture and heritage documentarian.

Kathmandu’s gravity-defying chariot festival

"I shut down my poultry farm as the villagers did not buy fresh chicken from me,” sums up a Dalit farmer from Arghakhanchi district why he had to leave for work.&nbsp;
Most people can sell fresh meat in their villages and make a good profit but Dalits still cannot because people will not buy from them due to caste stigma. Dalits have no choice but to sell their poultry to outside suppliers for lower profits.&nbsp;
“Other hoteliers found out my caste and used it to push me out of competition. They informed my customers of my caste and discouraged them from staying at my hotel,” a Dalit hotelier shares.&nbsp;
The hotel was close to a medical school and had earned a good reputation among hospital visitors, at least until they discovered his caste.
As ‘higher’ caste customers stopped coming, he moved his hotel to the East-West highway, where customers, in a rush, do not have time to worry about the caste of the owner.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/nepal-looks-at-alternative-investments">Nepal looks at alternative investments</a>, Siddhant Raj Pandey
“They will knock me out of the business if they know my caste,” says a Dalit who owns a pipe manufacturing business in Western Tarai. He has been in the business for several years. Due to fear of ostracisation from non-Dalits who dominate the industry, he has erased his caste name from all his documents and uses a non-Dalit surname.&nbsp;
These three incidents illustrate deeply rooted caste barriers blocking Dalits from entering and thriving in business even as they make up 14% of Nepal’s 29 million population.
Yet, due to Nepal’s hierarchical caste system, Dalits continue to be looked down upon as ‘untouchable’ and of ‘lower’ rank, and non-Dalits, as per caste norms, do not eat food and beverage items touched by them.&nbsp;
In a 2018 Tribhuvan University study, even seven years after anti-caste discrimination laws were passed, 34% of Hill Dalits and 28% of Madhesi Dalits reported routinely facing caste-based discrimination.&nbsp;
Caste-based barriers obstruct Dalits from freely participating and thriving in business, yielding at least three distinct types of market and non-market barriers.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/success-in-nepal-means-not-having-to-work">Success in Nepal means not having to work</a>, Anil Chitrakar
First, caste bias means ‘higher’ caste groups avoid buying goods and services from Dalits, except for menial labour. In their 2019 book Good Economics for Hard Times, Nobel laureates in economics Abhijit Banerjee and Esther Duflo show that social norms such as caste and patriarchy, and not just price, shape business decisions.&nbsp;
In Nepal’s case, ‘upper’ caste customers examine not only the price and quality of what they are buying but also the social value of goods and services.&nbsp;
Second, companies use caste norms to sideline Dalits out of competition. Development economists confirm that firms often deploy caste and ethnic discrimination to remove their competitors from the playing field.&nbsp;
Third, Nepal’s Dalits do not have easy access to resources such as land, capital, and networks that are usually a precondition to enter and thrive in business. Impoverished by decades of exclusion and discrimination, Dalits do not have collateral for loans. They face social stigma and stereotypes and do not get access to idea-and-trust-based loans.&nbsp;
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/invest-in-investment">Invest in investment</a>, Nepali Times
As a result, they are forced to get by with low capital and higher interest rates. Dalits also do not have strong business networks, nor do they have access to the social spaces where business decisions are made. They do not have a strong community support system, which could compensate for low capital and weak policy networks.&nbsp;
These caste barriers not only block the entry of Dalits into business but also create market failures. Just like the Dalit hotelier in Bhairawa who was pushed out of the market, discriminatory practices allow only a few castes to dominate, forcing customers to buy in a market not governed by price and quality but by non-market measures. Eventually, such caste-based business practices create conditions for cartels and monopolies, blocking the free market.&nbsp;
Caste-biased business practices also yield inefficient resource allocation. Caste-based preferences in recruitment mean businesses are forced to draw from smaller talent pools, and Dalits miss out on opportunities for human development. Resources such as land and capital do not move across social groups, ultimately leading to unequal income distribution and lower economic growth.&nbsp;
Despite the challenges, Nepal is committed to ending discrimination in employment and business. In 1974, Nepal ratified the ILO Convention 111–Discrimination (Employment and Occupation) Convention, 1958. In 2002, the country enacted the Bonded Labour (Prohibition) Act, formally ending forced labour such as Kamaiya, Haliya and Haruwa-Charuwa. In 2020, Nepal Rastra Bank issued a guidance note to encourage loans to Dalits of up to one million rupees on concessional interest rates.&nbsp;
While the commitments on paper have been swift, they have not led to tangible results. In 2023, the ILO Experts’ Committee called for Nepal to implement Convention 111 to address discrimination against Dalits and to promote their access to productive resources such as land and capital.
Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/caste-aside">Caste Aside</a>, Nepali Times
Ahead of its upcoming graduation to middle-income country status in 2026, Nepal has prioritised private sector-led development, hoping to increase investment from domestic and international investors. The Nepal Investment Summit this weekend is designed to attract investments.&nbsp;
While these are welcome moves, Nepal should not miss the opportunity to free itself from barriers holding back the Dalit community. By unlocking Dalits from discrimination, Nepal can add to its human capital, ensure fair income distribution, increase resource allocation efficiency, and augment economic growth.&nbsp;
We need research on how caste-based discrimination has reinforced market failures. The business development capacity of Dalits needs to be enhanced by creating better access to information and business networks. Nepal’s macro and micro-economic policies should combat visible and invisible caste-based business barriers.&nbsp;
Monetary policies can grant Dalits access to non-collateralised finance at concessional interest rates, and tax exemptions can create a level playing field. Finally, there could be a policy guarantee that the government, as one of the largest buyers, purchases goods and services from Dalits.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dalit-lives-must-matter">Dalit lives must matter</a>, Shristi Karki

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