When I landed in Kathmandu last November, I arrived with a Diwali hangover. Not the festive kind, but the coughing, dust-coated, throat-scratching kind gifted by North India’s winter air. After a decade of breathing in Delhi’s seasonal gas chamber, my lungs were in an open revolt. But within days of landing in Kathmandu, my cough vanished. It felt almost miraculous. The air was crisper. The Air Quality Index was kinder, and the Himalayan peaks rose on the horizon.&nbsp;
But by the third week, the familiar grey veil returned. First as a faint blur, then peak by peak the Himalaya began to disappear. Locals said it had been getting worse every year.&nbsp;
Much of this haze is not Kathmandu’s doing. What drifts into Nepal each winter is a toxic spillover from the plains of North India and Pakistan: black carbon, brown clouds, and fine particulate matter carried across borders by seasonal winds. Kathmandu’s bowl-shaped valley simply traps what the region exhales.
Abid Omar, founder of the <a href="https://pakairquality.com/" target="_blank">Pakistan Air Quality Initiative</a>, put it bluntly: “We often view air pollution and climate change as separate silos, but in the Himalaya, they are one and the same.”
Black carbon is essentially soot from diesel emissions, brick kilns, and crop burning. It may be short-lived in the atmosphere, but when ash settles on snow and ice, it reduces reflectivity and accelerates melting.&nbsp;
Omar adds, “Black carbon is a threat to the water security of the entire Indus and Ganges basins.”
What burns on both sides of Punjab do not stay in Punjab. It ends up on glaciers that feed rivers, sustaining hundreds of millions of people downstream.
In November 2024, AQI levels in New Delhi hovered near 500 and about the same time Lahore briefly became the world’s most polluted city, with the AQI count crossing 1,100. These numbers are not abstract.
According to the <a href="https://www.stateofglobalair.org/resources/archived/state-global-air-report-2024" target="_blank">State of Global Air 2024 report</a>, India recorded more than 2 million deaths attributable to air pollution in 2023. Bangladesh and Pakistan each saw over 200,000 deaths. Air pollution is now one of the leading causes of premature death across South Asia.
Nepal, often imagined as cleaner by default, tells a sobering story of its own. Air pollution in Nepal led to an estimated <a href="https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/press-release/2025/06/17/air-pollution-is-the-number-one-health-risk-factor-in-nepal#:~:text=Vehicle%20Emissions:%20Continuing%20to%20electrify,airflows%20carry%20pollutants%20across%20borders." target="_blank">48,500 premature deaths</a>, with the loss of more than 1.4 million disability-adjusted life years. The University of Chicago’s <a href="https://aqli.epic.uchicago.edu/post/nepal-capital-chokes-as-wildfires-rage-en" target="_blank">Air Quality Life Index</a> estimates that particulate pollution cuts 3.4 years off the life of the average Nepali. In the Tarai region, life expectancy drops by nearly five years. In Kathmandu, residents lose 2.6 years.
Says infectious disease specialist Anup Subedee: “Air pollution is killing at a far higher rate than Covid-19 did during its worst years in Nepal. People are dying in their twenties of cancer, or having heart attacks and strokes in their thirties and forties.”
Nearly <a href="https://www.icimod.org/press-release/kathmandu-choked-on-polluted-air-for-75-of-the-last-90-days/?utm_source=chatgpt.com" target="_blank">40 per cent of winter particulate pollution in the Kathmandu</a> valley originates outside Nepal. Black carbon carried from Punjab, Haryana, and Uttar Pradesh in India, besides parts of Pakistan, rides the winds north, settles on Himalayan snow, and accelerates glacier melt by absorbing heat.
“The pollutants travel across borders within shared airsheds, creating one gigantic plume of polluted air over India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan several times a year,” says Subedee.
In some Himalayan regions, <a href="https://www.icimod.org/success-stories/chapter-2/black-carbon-and-glacier-melt/" target="_blank">scientists estimate</a> that black carbon can increase localised melt rates by up to 30%. Yet global climate negotiations continue to treat glacial loss primarily as a carbon dioxide problem.&nbsp;
CHINA’S APPROACH
The South Asian story is transboundary, and more immediate as well as more preventable. This is not only about emissions. It is about coordination, and China offers an instructive contrast.
Since 2013, China has dramatically improved its air quality by declaring a '<a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/12/12/what-new-delhi-can-learn-from-chinas-war-on-air-pollution#:~:text=In%20the%20following%20years%2C%20Beijing,29.3%CE%BCg%2Fm%C2%B3%20in%202024." target="_blank">war on pollution</a>'. A major air pollutant, suspended PM2.5 levels fell sharply through strict controls on coal, vehicles, and industry, massive investment in renewables, and legally binding national action plans.
Crucially, China shifted from city-by-city firefighting to a regional airshed approach. Provinces shared data, coordinated emergency responses, enforced unified standards, and tied environmental performance to political accountability. South Asian countries have done none of this.
Isolated national actions are insufficient when pollution itself ignores borders. India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Pakistan share the same airshed. Without cooperation, each country keeps breathing its neighbour’s mistakes.
“As the government representing the largest population affected by air pollution, India should lead this effort. Instead, the region has drifted away from cooperation, and the cost is becoming catastrophic,” Subedee says.
The haze over Kathmandu is not only Nepal’s burden. It is a <a href="https://sapannews.com/2024/12/27/could-climate-diplomacy-be-the-googly-a-gamechanger-for-regional-cooperation/" target="_blank">regional failure</a>. The melting of South Asia’s glaciers is not just a global warming story. It is also a local one, written in the smoke rising from our own fields, factories, and highways.
If we keep ignoring black carbon, the Himalayas will keep losing time, snow, and stability. The disappearing peaks of Kathmandu are not a metaphor. They are a warning.
And like the air itself, that warning is already crossing borders. ©Sapan News
Pragyan Srivastava is an Indian journalist and associate editor at <a href="http://www.sapannews.com/" target="_blank">Sapan News</a>. <a href="mailto:pragyan@sapannews.com" target="_blank">pragyan@sapannews.com</a>

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Opinion

Cleaning up the Himalayan airshed

Digital sovereignty has become one of those phrases that sounds powerful precisely because it is vague. It is invoked in policy documents, conferences, political speeches as if it was a destination waiting to be reached, something a country can simply decide to have.&nbsp;
For Nepal, however, digital sovereignty is less a goal than a tension we must learn to live with. It is the ability of a nation to control its present and future in the digital space. This includes the hardware we rely on, the software we use, and the data we generate, together forming what is called the digital public infrastructure.&nbsp;
But the uncomfortable question emerges: how much control is actually possible for a landlocked &nbsp;country squeezed between two giants, embedded in global supply chain and dependent on external connectivity?
Nepal’s digital dependency is not accidental: it is geographical, structural and is a choice just like any other between India and China. Until 2018, the country’s entire internet flowed through India. The addition of fibre links to China freed us from this monopoly, but it did not give us independence.&nbsp;
Building infrastructure across the Himalaya will never be as efficient as routing cables south. Digital sovereignty, argues Sixit Bhatta of Tootle and Vriddhi, is a political speech rather than a conversation. Modern digital systems are deeply interlinked, with data constantly moving &nbsp;across borders, he adds.
Hardware is manufactured in one country, software developed in another, and data stored somewhere else entirely. Expecting all three to align neatly within national borders is not how the internet works. It is impossible for us to use technology without Chinese hardware and US software.&nbsp;
“It is our current reality that all our data is currently somewhere in the Silicon Valley,” Bhatta told me. “Trying to have all this data within our own territory is an unimaginable feat, but even though sovereignty is not possible, there is data that is unique to Nepal that we can digitise to our advantage, with out own technologies.”
While we may not control where our servers are manufactured or where global platforms store metadata, we can still decide how our public systems are designed, governed, and integrated.
The government’s digital push over the past decade reflects this partial control. Systems like National ID and platforms such as the Nagarik App show slow, flawed progress in digitising service delivery. Citizens can access documents, register complaints, and interact with the state without standing in line.
NOT SMART
But digitisation is not the same as intelligence. As Niraj Bhusal from the Ministry of Finance points out, Nepal’s digital systems are “smart but dumb”. They exist online, but they often do not talk to each other. The fact that an expired passport can still be used to generate a police report is not a minor glitch, it is a reminder that automation without integration merely digitises inefficiency.
Ownership of data is where sovereignty is most often claimed, and most easily misunderstood. Bhusal says data generated through National ID, passports, and Lok Sewa remain fully owned by the state, even when systems are funded by external agencies like the World Bank or ADB or outsourced to foreign private companies.
Yet global examples suggest that ownership is not always the same as control. In several African countries, outsourced digital ID systems have locked governments into opaque contracts with foreign vendors, or have plunged states in surveillance instead of the promised democratic delivery.&nbsp;
In Mali, a dispute with the French company IDEMIA over payments led to election delays when access to biometric voter data was withheld. Data, in that moment, became leverage.
The same company, notably, was also involved in Nepal’s e-passport and National ID systems, but we recently ended the 16 year ties with the company in mid 2025. Outsourcing is not inherently harmful, but long-term dependence without domestic capacity-building creates quiet vulnerabilities and cycles of dependencies.&nbsp;
Bhusal also highlights that limitations of our systems through lack of education and political instability that leads even notable digitisation efforts not being owned by successive governments, as the credit goes to predecessors.&nbsp;
India’s Aadhaar system is often cited as a counterexample. Built on open-source technologies and managed domestically, it ensured that biometric data remained under state control. But Aadhaar also illustrates the other side of sovereignty: when the state controls vast amounts of citizen data, questions of surveillance, exclusion, and misuse inevitably follow. Sovereignty does not automatically translate into protection.
Nepal now stands somewhere in between. The draft Information Technology and Cyber Security Bill proposes data localisation requirements for sensitive sectors like finance and health. If enacted, it would formalise what officials already claim, that critical data stays within Nepal’s jurisdiction.
Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

Cyberia

Nepal’s digital dependency

This election is unfolding at a critical juncture in Nepal’s democratic journey, shaped by a past of adversity but also by a growing sense of future possibility.&nbsp;
Citizens are not skeptical of democracy itself, but more demanding about what democracy should deliver. Conversations across social and professional spaces reflect frustration grounded in lived experience rather than indifference.&nbsp;
Many continue to participate in elections while quietly questioning whether their participation leads to better decisions, better services, or better leadership, holding on to the belief that politics can still do better.
This election matters because time matters. Nepal stands at a moment when the next generation is ready to lead, innovate, and take responsibility, but political space has not kept pace with professional capability. The urgency today is not abstract or future oriented. It is immediate, and it is generational.
Nepal’s democracy has reached a stage where competitive elections alone are no longer enough — it is mature enough now to be accountable for what it delivers. After years of constitutional change and political transition, the more demanding test is how power is exercised after the votes are counted.&nbsp;
People rightfully have qualms about established political parties, but it is appropriate to acknowledge that they have shaped the republic. They led historic struggles, dismantled absolute monarchy, and anchored federalism in constitutional practice. These contributions form the foundation of today’s political system and deserve recognition.
At the same time, a political culture built primarily around legacy and control is struggling to meet contemporary expectations. Leadership structures remain concentrated, internal decision-making is opaque, and loyalty outweighs competence. In a society that is younger, better informed, and more demanding, this approach is stagnant, even anachronistic.
The most visible consequence of this culture is declining trust in governance outcomes. This should trouble all of us. When leadership renewal is resisted, when accountability mechanisms are weak, and when decisions are negotiated within closed circles, even well-intentioned policies lose public confidence. Performance becomes secondary to continuity, and citizens are left feeling unheard.
A governance-centred political approach treats public office as responsibility rather than reward. It emphasises systems over personalities and results over narratives. Openness, therefore, is not a concession to critics but a requirement for trust. Inclusivity of a wide array of voices is a must.
Women’s participation exposes the difference between formal inclusion and substantive influence. While legal frameworks promote representation, real power often remains concentrated elsewhere. Women are visible during elections but underrepresented where policies are shaped, budgets decided, and negotiations conducted.
Moving from presence to power is essential for democratic credibility. When women participate meaningfully in decision-making, governance improves through broader perspectives, stronger oversight, and more grounded policy choices. Inclusion is not symbolic generosity but institutional strength.
Understanding how voting translates into power is central to responsible citizenship. Nepal’s mixed electoral system assigns voters two distinct choices, one focused on individual representation and the other on strengthening political cultures through party selection. Each choice carries a different but equally important responsibility.
When voters recognise this distinction, elections become a tool for shaping standards rather than repeating habits. Voting then becomes a way to reward integrity, competence, and openness rather than merely affirming familiarity.
Democracy matures when voters evaluate both parties and individuals against clear benchmarks. Ideology and history matter, but they cannot replace accountability, transparency, and performance. Symbols may mobilise support, but standards sustain institutions.
Nepal’s political future depends on the willingness to correct course without discarding experience. Established parties possess networks, organisational frameworks, and institutional memory, which should not be abandoned simply because we are at a crossroads. However, without reform in how decisions are made and power is shared, these strengths risk becoming constraints.
A governance-centered politics begins with practical questions that directly affect citizens’ lives. How accountable is the system to people’s needs and aspirations? How efficiently are services delivered? How transparent are public decisions? How are conflicts of interest managed? How can performance be monitored between elections?
Elections should therefore mark the start of accountability rather than its end. Democratic systems flourish when leaders expect continuous scrutiny and citizens remain engaged with a healthy dose of skepticism.
The real divide between old and new politics lies in how authority is structured and justified. Old politics personalised power and resisted internal reform, limiting transparency and accountability. A newer political approach seeks to institutionalise decision-making, distribute leadership, and make governance visible and measurable.
This election represents a choice to pursue politics as a daily democratic practice rather than a periodic contest. It is about enabling enterprise without unnecessary bureaucracy, allowing individuals and businesses to create value, and preparing the next generation of professionals to lead with competence and integrity.&nbsp;
Nepal’s talent, including those abroad, is ready to contribute if the environment allows it. Ultimately, government should ask how it can create an environment that unleashes the creativity of its citizens. Government should not be measured by how robust it is, but by how efficient it is.
Nepal has talent, but it suffers from a lack of opportunity structures that allow talent to be recognised, trusted, to lead and deliver. The priority is to open space for younger professionals to demonstrate what they can contribute, not years from now, but now, when the country urgently needs their skills, skills, and ideas.&nbsp;
Too often, capable individuals are asked to wait or to adapt themselves to rigid hierarchies before they are allowed to contribute meaningfully. Nepal’s global talent pool is one of its most underutilised assets. Across the world, Nepalis are competing and succeeding in technology, finance, engineering, and creative industries. Many are willing to return, or at least remain economically engaged with Nepal, if the right environment exists.&nbsp;
With supportive policies, digital infrastructure, and regulatory clarity, Nepal can build industries that compete on quality and cost with much larger economies. Government should not position itself as the primary creator of jobs. Sustainable employment is generated by enterprises, entrepreneurs, and innovators, not by expanding the state’s payroll.&nbsp;
The responsibility of government is to remove barriers, invest in enabling infrastructure, and ensure fair rules so that individuals and businesses can create value. When government attempts to replace markets rather than support them, inefficiency grows and opportunity shrinks — and corruption finds space to flourish.
Politics should expand possibilities rather than managing scarcity. Whether through parties, institutions, or civic engagement, the work of improving politics lies in strengthening standards that endure beyond any single election or cycle.&nbsp;
This is the kind of contribution I seek to make, alongside others who believe Nepal can govern itself better.
Radhesh Pant is the chair of the VRock and Company and a former banker.

Guest Editorial

A chance for Nepal's political renewal

The Narayani River is one of the most important biodiverse hotspots among Nepal’s three major river systems. It is inhabited by critically endangered gharial crocodiles, gangetic dolphins, Bengal tigers and the great one horned rhinos.&nbsp; The river drains the watershed of central Nepal and is fed by glaciers from the Annapurnas to the mountains in Tibet. Nepal is among the 30 countries on the route of the Central Asian Flyway, making the river a significant site for the world Wildlife Fund (WWF) Wetlands for Asian Flyways.&nbsp; Migratory birds from the north cross the Himalaya along the tributatries of the Narayani in winter as the river and surrounding areas provide safe resting and feeding habitat for the fowls when the river enters the plains. The post monsoon receding rivers, oxbow lakes, and marshes supply food to the migratory birds and other wildlife.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202160232_695e2f2f42117c2d3de50930eafdf7e62ef80418e518544b27c168dba43cf1a1" data-rendition-name="original" width="1778" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  In the 1960s, entire villages from Nepal’s mountains were translocated to the Tarai once malaria was eradicated. Vast stretches of forests and grassland were cleared for farming for the settlers in areas like Chitwan. The indigenous Tharu, Bote, Danuwar, Mushahar communities along the Narayani floodplain became a minority.&nbsp; The influx of population continues due to accessibility, infrastructure, facilities and livelihood opportunities in the Tarai. &nbsp;Chitwan’s population has increased by 37% since the 1981 census. Human settlements are now getting ever closer to the river boundaries of the Chitwan National Park. Chitwan has changed dramatically from the time I first visited in 1967 and when I started my career as a naturalist in 1984. The once laid-back and sleepy town was surrounded by large expanses of farms and forests stretching to the horizon, with the Narayani flowing nearby. Farmlands on the Narayani floodplains were inaccessible till 2000.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202160232_1a20e67120539d5e0abb8701bde51c9bc2ea6eb9d67915cd42bc32bb63a87084" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Common Teal</figcaption> </figure>  People primarily grew single paddy crops annually, and much of the post-harvest paddy field was left fallow. These moist fallow fields with marshes were prime feeding habitat for geese, ducks, cranes, storks, Ibis and many waders. Today, Chitwan is one sprawling metropolis. The construction of dykes, spurs and high embankment to avert floods now prevent the farms from getting replenished with alluvial deposits. The deepening river channels have also deprived uplands of groundwater and farms of moisture . In 1973 Chitwan National Park was established as Nepal's first protected area, and in 1996, the government introduced the Buffer Zone Management Rule under the National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act to manage forests surrounding protected areas, and ensure local participation in parks management.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202160232_b3a91b25342e178e8f6c8b3bc33ae61c674c9e8c5c3eac8e16ee410227d07c69" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1205" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Black stork</figcaption> </figure>  Human persecution of wildlife decreased significantly after buffer zone regulations were enacted, and benefited local people via tourism and revenue from the national parks. Conservation partners worked closely with communities and contributed to an increase in the numbers of many iconic endangered species such as tigers, rhinos, wild elephants as well as migratory birds. Behaviour Change Champions’ bi-annual bird monitoring in the Narayani floodplain recorded 145 bird species in February 2025, and 148 bird species in December. Of the species documented, rare migratory birds included a single Sarus Crane, one Spot-billed Pelican, and about 20 Greater White Fronted Geese. In January 2005, two Bar-Headed Geese were fitted with satellite radio telemetry. Both the birds flew northeast to Dingmo Co lake, about 500km north of Mt Everest. Their return destination was far away in the wetlands of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh states of India.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260202160232_e7924a8b7dd620d3d97609b0c1cd030dd38a2c39e9b880ee80af919e96863a39" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> <figcaption>Greater white-fronted goose</figcaption> </figure>  According to field ornithologists DB Chaudhary, the number of bar-headed geese increased over 60% from 576 in 2024 and to 946 in 2026. &nbsp;Similarly, the number of Ruddy Shelducks also increased by nearly 60%, from 5,091 in 2024 to 8,523 in 2026.&nbsp; In contrast, common cranes saw a gradual decline in the early 2020s and their numbers have just begun to rise once again. Field ornithologist Hathan Chaudhary observed only 17 sharp common cranes in &nbsp;the Dibyanagar farms 2024, compared to 242 in 2020. In 2026, &nbsp;their number stands at 43 individuals. &nbsp; The fallow farms, the feeding habitats of birds like the Bar-headed Geese, Ruddy Shelducks, Common Cranes are shrinking rapidly from intensive farming and spread of human dwelling and industries. Farmers now grow mustard, buck wheat, lentils and corn during the dry season, and the use of pesticides and fungicides in standing crops is a threat for migratory birds that feed upon the crops. Meanwhile, the increase in the network of power cables pose threats of collision to migratory birds.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260202160232_d041195718df61adb57151f7dbc8f05dd720ccbab1f6643c8476a456e4c8082d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1777" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Other threats to wildlife have yet to be addressed. Growing population along the Narayani floodplain upstream continues to pollute the river with garbge. Fallow farms, which are feeding habitats of geese, ducks, and cranes, are shrinking rapidly from extensive farming, expansion of settlements, and industrialisation. FOWL-FRIENDLY&nbsp; Protecting our migratory birds requires safe feeding areas with vast expanses of open marshes and meadows inside the Chitwan National Park and the buffer zone to mitigate the loss of their feeding habitat. Divisional Forest Offices and Bharatpur Municipality could set aside large open marshes and wetlands as a sanctuary for migratory birds. Similarly, reduced availability of water will be a limiting factor for the conservation of wetland birds in the near future. Harvesting and working on groundwater recharge will ensure food security, habitat for migratory birds and other wildlife, and will help local communities combat the impacts of the climate crisis.&nbsp; Seasonal wetlands are particularly important for birds, with their receding water, they provide succulent grass and roots for dabbling ducks and for grazers and filter feeders such as geese, shelduck, pintails, mallards and gadwalls. Eleocharis, Scirpus and other wetlands plant species that grow tubers serve as food for birds once they are exposed to aerobic conditions.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260202160232_b06163d09ed589bf98186768cc75504e743de9ebbe278cad0dcf30a180b1b878" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's vanishing wetlands NT"> </figure>  Enhanced shallow wetlands and surrogate feeding habitats with low angles of approach thus enable birds and mammals to feed. Once these wetlands dry, they expose worms, freshwater shrimps, mollusks, fishes, frogs, roots and tubers, making it easier for birds and other wildlife like rhinos, hog deers, fishing cats, otters, and tigers to forage.&nbsp; As it stands, the two-year WWF-led community-led conservation of wetlands and migratory birds in Narayani’ project aims to reduce the threats to the migratory birds by enhancing wetlands, capacitating local youth through Behavior Change Champions, and expanding surrogate feeding wetland habitats.&nbsp; The program is working to sensitise and enable indigenous and local communities towards migratory bird conservation, and hone the skills and knowledge of local bird tour guides, particularly women, in identifying and monitoring the birds habit and their response and adaptation to habitat change. The Behavior Change Champions are trained to rescue injured birds, and interact with local communities to reduce direct human persecution and harming of wildlife. WWF Nepal is supporting this project through the Terai Arc Landscape Conservation Program. The theme of the World Wetlands Day on 2 February 2026 is Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Culture Heritage. We must honour this theme and actively contribute to the conservation of the migratory birds, which are our natural heritage, and in the process preserve their connection with local communities, farmlands, and nature. Rajendra N Suwal is the Head of Partnerships Development at WWF Nepal.

Nepal's vanishing wetlands

On full-moon nights in October and the Nepali New Year in April, hundreds gather to worship at the sacred pond of Mai Pokhari in Ilam. According to legend, the pond was born thousands of years ago from the union of the holy Mai and Tamur rivers in eastern Nepal. Another story tells of an elderly couple whose death gave rise to a life-giving pond meant to quench human thirst. The nine corners of the pond are each believed to house a goddess capable of granting health, fertility, good harvests, and protection from landslides and storms. In every version, one message is constant: when people polluted the water, the goddess moved away. Fear of losing her protection still shapes how people treat the sacred water body today. Besides ponds, wetlands are areas that are saturated with water, permanently or seasonally, including marshes, swamps, and bogs – representing some of the world’s most biologically diverse ecosystems, with distinctive soil, plants and animals. In 2008, Mai Pokhari earned the status of a Ramsar site – a wetland of global importance – for its ecological significance.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260202020236_5fdcca89b06fcc0a2f2a7620931bc7fa1e932c72a5c1f5e083d4fd06287218b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Mai Pokhari"> <figcaption>Mai Pokhari in Ilam. Photo: JITENDRA RAJ BAJRACHARYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  Its mid-elevation broadleaved forests provide habitat for many epiphytic orchids that grow without soil, attaching themselves to trees, and protected species such as the white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis), leopard cat (Prionailurus bengalensis) and Eurasian Otter (Lutra lutra). For the people of the area, this is more than a wetland. It is a living mother, an ancestral guardian, and at the heart of their cultural identity. But long before it was recognised internationally, it was already being protected through belief, respect, and traditional knowledge passed quietly from one generation to the next. This pattern of faith-based stewardship is repeated across the Himalaya. Spirituality has shaped conservation in ways no law ever could. Fishing, hunting, and polluting wetlands and rivers are strictly forbidden, not by force but by faith. When erosion threatened the pond in the 1930s, villagers planted pine trees along its edges. As forest degradation increased, the community organised itself, establishing community forests in 1992 and 2001. In 2004, the area surrounding the pond was formally recognised as a religious forest –- a recognition based on local devotion rather than outside instruction.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260202020236_18ec88be3dadf3573074796decb255e3b536893d5778735cf6e7dc3184330017" data-rendition-name="original" width="919" height="540" loading="lazy" alt="Map of wetlands in Hindu Kush"> <figcaption>Map showing four wetlands in the Hindu Kush Himalaya. Source: RAMESH KATHARIYA / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  In the lowland forests of western Nepal, lies Ghodaghodi, a wetland complex consisting of large and shallow oxbow lake with 13 associated marshes and meadows surrounded by tropical deciduous forest on the lower slopes of the Siwalik range along the southern edge of the Himalaya. These wetlands and forests serve as a critical wildlife corridor between the lowlands and the Siwalik, supporting several globally threatened species of plants and animals, and rare wild rice. To the people who live around it, especially the Indigenous Tharu, Ghodaghodi is alive – a sacred presence shaped by gods, ancestors, and centuries of belief. The name Ghodaghodi, which means horse and mare, carries ancient memories. Elders tell stories of divine beings who once moved through the landscape in animal form, leaving behind a lake infused with spiritual powers. The waters are believed to be the dwelling place of gods and goddesses, particularly Lord Shiva. This belief has shaped how the wetland is viewed: not as property to be owned, but as a holy space to be respected. Each year during the festival of Agan Panchami, thousands of pilgrims gather at Ghodaghodi, walking barefoot along forest paths with offerings of flowers, fruits, milk, and water. Polluting the water or harming its creatures is believed to invite misfortune. These unwritten cultural rules have conserved the wetland for generations, long before it was declared a wetland of global importance. In the central highlands of Bhutan lies the Gangtey-Phobji in a wide glacial valley. The Ramsar site is the prime wintering habitat for the globally vulnerable, black-necked crane (Grus nigricollis).  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260202020236_7a8c7215ecc6928e7160e8057c761095e7021e711e1290f6d8b2c8a50879be64" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="998" loading="lazy" alt="Black necked crane"> <figcaption>Black-necked crane in Phobji. ALEX TREADWAY / ICIMOD</figcaption> </figure>  An annual festival at the Gangtey monastery welcomes the arrival of the cranes in November. Locals revere the birds as sacred messengers, and they are believed to bring blessings and prosperity. It is these beliefs that have helped preserve Bhutan’s flagship Ramsar site. In West Sikkim, the Khachoedpalri wetland was declared a Ramsar site in 2025. This Himalayan high-altitude wetland ecosystem and its surrounding temperate forests provide critical habitat for many species of flora and fauna, and the wetland serves as an important habitat and stopover site for migratory birds. But more importantly, it has religious significance as a pilgrimage site and is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus as a wish-fulfilling lake. It is these values that have supported its conservation from time immemorial. These wetlands are recognised internationally as Ramsar sites for their ecological and other attributes. However, the very cultural practices that preserved these wetlands, along with new external pressures, now threaten them. Many are now increasingly under threat due to growing human intervention – including misplaced practices such as the ritual release of exotic fish by the faithful. Some religious bodies now advise against these practices. Many others are drying out, silting up, or polluted by upstream activity. As these changes intensify, there is concern that not only biodiversity, but also the cultural practices and spiritual values tied to the wetlands may begin to fade. As we mark this year’s World Wetlands Day on 2 February with the theme ‘Wetlands and Traditional Knowledge: Celebrating Cultural Heritage’ it is a reminder that wetlands are not only ecosystems – they are rich cultural spaces. Traditional knowledge and belief systems have quietly conserved these wetlands for centuries, showing that when people revere nature, protection becomes a way of life. It is this profound connection, where culture nurtures ecology that we must safeguard to ensure neither wetlands nor the heritage they hold fade away. Sunita Chaudhary is the Biodiversity Lead at the International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD).

Where culture meets ecology

Inside the District Hospital in Mugu, one of Nepal’s remotest and underserved regions, hospital staff enter details of an elderly female patient with a prolapsed uterus into a computer instead of writing them into a heavy ledger like they used to.&nbsp;
This may seem like a modest improvement, but it is transforming medical care in the most isolated parts of Nepal – proving that digital systems can help the country leapfrog in strengthening healthcare delivery even in the most challenging setting.&nbsp;
In the past year, Nepal’s national health insurance information system experienced a major failure that exposed critical vulnerabilities. Months of insurance claims were inaccessible overnight, placing hospitals, particularly rural facilities, under critical financial strain.&nbsp;
Hospitals were unable to recover claims data in a timely manner, threatening continuity of patient care. But during this, Mehelkuna Hospital and others in Karnali Province demonstrated how digital health infrastructure can build system resilience.&nbsp;
Supported by an integrated electronic health record (EHR) system, this one hospital in Surkhet securely retrieved patient and claims data and resubmitted nearly 40,000 insurance claims within 15 days, safeguarding Rs8 million in revenue.&nbsp;
This was a crucial policy insight that digital health records are not an optional innovation, they represent core public health infrastructure.&nbsp;
The EHR initiative was launched at Bayalpata Hospital in Achham District by Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN) in 2016 and expanded to hospitals in Charikot, Aampipal and Aabu Khareni.
It has now also been scaled across eight districts of Karnali Province, helping track patients and aligning the data with government reporting and insurance mechanisms.&nbsp;
ENSURING INSURANCE
NHN has embedded its EHR initiative within public hospitals. For example, in Karnali Province this means the Ministry of Social Development (MoSD) in Surkhet has a Dashboard which aggregates realtime data across eight district hospitals.
Information on health outcomes of patients, service delivery, insurance utilisation are all available in real time and are at the fingertips of provincial officials. The Dashboard supports evidence-based decision-making, improves transparency in reporting, and strengthens the province’s capacity to monitor trends and identify gaps in care.
Earlier paper-based reporting was slow, and could not be accessed or cross-referenced easily, hindering prompt planning and resource allocation.&nbsp;
But digital transformation in healthcare is not just about technology. It is about system consolidation, linking service delivery, health financing, governance, and accountability through reliable and real-time data. Integrated EHRs improve transparency in insurance claims and enable evidence-based planning.&nbsp;
Unaffordable medical care and out-of-pocket expenses for family members can push households into poverty. Many Nepalis migrating overseas say one push factor is the cost of care of close relatives. &nbsp;
This is what makes universal health insurance so vital, but it is in crisis. The Health Insurance Board (HIB) was formed in 2016, and has now spread across all 77 districts, covering 10 million Nepalis.
But HIB faces problems of sustainability and claims settlements. This week it asked the government to replenish Rs1 billion in funds, and the government’s TUTH Hospital has stopped treating patients covered by the HIB citing delayed reimbursement of claims.
This underlines the need for stronger institutional autonomy, predictable financing, and enhanced operational capacity within the HIB. One way to streamline insurance and reduce risk is by embedding digital systems.&nbsp;
Universal Health Coverage depends on accurate, timely, and inter-operable data flows between service delivery points and national financing mechanisms.&nbsp;
Integrating EHRs with insurance platforms can significantly reduce claims backlogs, improve transparency and accountability, and enhance fiscal reliability for public hospitals. &nbsp;
The experience of NHN-EHR in Karnali hospitals with digital records and insurance provides a compelling model for the rest of the country. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
Srijana Devkota is Director of Program and Partnerships at Nyaya Health Nepal (NHN).

Fix what is broken

The car’s trunk was crammed with boxes and suitcases, almost to the roof, and I was just waiting for the inevitable heart-wrenching screech or thud from underneath as I feathered on the accelerator, trying to cross through the infamous Daunne uphill section of the East-West Highway in an MPV.&nbsp; But to my surprise, the ground clearance of 170mm did not fail. Daunne, roughly 15km long, is the landslide prone ridge between Narayanghat and Butwal section, which is perennially affected by traffic jams, thanks to ongoing (and never ending) road expansion. Traffic jams here can be tens of kilometres long. On a November 2025 trip to Bhairawa it was dry enough to wade through the dreaded Daunne where the choice on the ‘road’ is either mud or dust (or both).&nbsp; The BYD M6 MPV EV borrowed for the journey claimed a range of 440km and 580L of space at the back in an almost 4.7m long form factor.&nbsp; On board were two family members and my five-year-old dog, Kulfi (pictured) who needed frequent stretch breaks for his paws. Stopping to charge the car was most certainly not on my to-do list. Within the first 20km from Koteswor, there were already multiple DC chargers along the roadside. They were fast chargers usually between 30 to 60kWs capacities, meaning a charge to 80% would take on average less than an hour. Nepal now boasts over 1,200 charging stations, each station is often equipped with multiple charging guns. This was a stark contrast to the harsh reality of charger anxiety I faced a couple of years in our family car, the Hyundai Kona. Back then, on the way back from Pokhara there was only a single charging gun at River Side Resort in Kurintar.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026013104014_d36a1ed529caa0b67424699407da8b42b51f4a4b63dd6dbeb662b0ab513b77a8" data-rendition-name="original" width="2652" height="984" loading="lazy" alt="Page 5 map"> </figure>  These were only fast AC chargers of speeds up to 6kWs, unlike today’s much faster DC chargers. This meant the car would take multiple hours to hit the 80% mark -- and the charger would sometimes (shockingly, and without explanation) be out of operation. No one to ask questions, and no one to answer either. While I never needed to charge my EV on the way to Pokhara from Kathmandu, my precautionary nature never allowed me to climb into the Valley via Naubise without a charge. One bad accident, some sort of natural disaster, and you knew the roads would be clogged with traffic and shut down for at least a couple of hours.&nbsp; Fast forward to the present. My mind was at ease. Even if one of the charging stations was crowded, there was conveniently another one 15 minutes away. But the BYD M6 did not require any of that anyway.&nbsp; Not only did it traverse the rough highway from Kathmandu to Mugling, and then onward over the Daunne pass with ease but because the car was heavy and low, it handled high speeds and corners like a champ.&nbsp; Foot down on the accelerator and it climbed to triple digit speeds without breaking a sweat. Put your foot relatively harder on the brakes and it would equally shed its momentum, all the while being economical. After multiple quick stretch stops for Kulfi, and a proper one hour lunch break, I had arrived at Bhairawa before nightfall, still with around 100km of range left in the car and most importantly, with all the luggage intact.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026013104018_1cc05d858d14f0b83fcf586c7270be003f462d60cd19934218e271d59fef3496" data-rendition-name="original" width="1384" height="808" loading="lazy" alt="Bye-bye range anxiety NT"> </figure>  ROUNDTRIP A week later, my return trip to Kathmandu saw an additional passenger and even more luggage – but once again, I arrived back in Kathmandu with ease: both the M6 and Nepal’s charger infrastructure had exceeded my expectations and needs.&nbsp; This 600km drive to and from Bhairawa from the mountains around Kathmandu to the Tarai plains, with not-so-smooth hilly terrain in between, highlighted not only how far electric vehicles have evolved but also showed how far the charging infrastructure (once a major irritant during the Covid years) had come.&nbsp; EVs in Nepal are no longer niche products; they are available across budgets and segments, ranging in form factor from micro city commuters and family hatchbacks to compact SUVs, pickups, and even full-size MPVs.&nbsp; One noticeable improvement on the highways is that the charging infrastructure has grown from a scattered and company-installed. NEA units along major routes have now converted into full-fledged, round-the-clock networks that allow flexibility and convenience to those of us who like to enjoy our times on the road.&nbsp; What once felt like a gamble, now feels like momentum — and the road ahead for electric mobility in Nepal looks smoother. &nbsp;&nbsp; Arnav Upadhyay reviews automobiles and promotes road safety under the handle Casually Annoyed Driver on Youtube, Tiktok and IG and this monthly column Drive Line in Nepali Times.

Arnav Upadhyay

Drive Line

Bye-bye range anxiety

Monday, 8 September marked the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">largest single-day, state-led massacre of protesters</a> in Nepal’s recent history. The indiscriminate firing of automatic weapons on the GenZ demonstrators for over three hours killed 21 people. Most were below 28, waiting to fly overseas as migrant workers.
This sparked the violence of the following day that ultimately left 76 people dead. Postmortem reports show that the protesters on 8 September were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-forces-targeted-protestors-disproportionately-hrw">shot directly in the chest, head, and abdomen</a>.
During the GenZ protests, the Nepal Army also killed 10 prisoners who were attempting to flee jails. Yet, no one questioned or condemned the Army for taking such lethal measures.
Brutality and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">extrajudicial killings</a> by the security forces are not uncommon in Nepal. They peaked during the Maoist conflict, and recur often. What happened during the GenZ protests was a continuation of culture.
During the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/masochism-in-madhes,563">Madhes Movement in 2015</a>, the K P Oli-led regime was also responsible for more than 50 deaths. Police forces shot and killed 16 people. In Janakpur, a police officer shot and killed a 14-year-old child, Nitu Yadav, at point-blank range while he was trying to hide behind some bushes.&nbsp;
According to witnesses, the masked police officer forced the child to the ground, shot him in the head, and kicked him while shouting, “Shoot this motherf**ker.” No police chiefs were held accountable for these atrocities. The state has still not released the Laal Aayog Report, which investigated <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tikapur-s-protracted-trauma">killings in the Tarai</a>.&nbsp;
In 2026 the Armed Police Force (APF) shot and killed rickshaw driver Bijay Shah in sunsari while he was transporting goods across the border. From 2017 to 2021, at least 22 people died in police custody alone, most of them Madhesi and Dalits.&nbsp;
Police routinely described these deaths as suicides, yet this was never independently verified. In Shah’s case, the APF claimed without evidence that he died in a crossfire. Police institutions continue to function <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">as they did under the Panchayat regime</a>. In the absence of proper investigation, there is impunity and the killings go on.&nbsp;
This lack of accountability means that the Nepali state has normalised killings by its security apparatus. When pressed about shooting protesters outside Parliament in September, Prime Minister KP Oli and Police Chief Chandra Kuber Khapung defended themselves saying, “Bullets do not have eyes.”&nbsp;
There was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">no remorse or empathy</a>, and a refusal to accept responsibility. They failed to acknowledge that the state has a constitutional mandate to protect its citizens, including those accused of crimes.&nbsp;
Those in power routinely shift the blame onto protesters. In reality, police often initiate intimidation and violence at otherwise peaceful protests, as seen on 8 September. According to witnesses, protesters only became agitated after Nepal Police started firing tear gas, and shooting one of the demonstrators.&nbsp;
The Gauri Bahadur Karki Judicial Investigation Commission has not yet filed its report. But there will be justice only when then-Prime Minister KP Oli, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and Kathmandu CDO Chhabi Rijal are held accountable for their actions or inaction. But it should not end there -- all police officers involved in the killings must also face justice.&nbsp;
No government or political leader in the past decades has tried to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2809">reform police to end their impunity</a>. Politicians in power and police forces maintain an unspoken, unholy nexus – from the local to the state level. It is a mutual protection arrangement. Those in power rely on the police to maintain their power and even prosecute opponents, while the police depend on them for political patronage.&nbsp;
To be sure, Nepal Police just reflects the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-story-so-far">state of the country’s democracy</a>, as well as its lack of commitment to human rights and the rule of law. Genuine reform and democratisation of the police force is needed to uphold human rights and the Constitution, and increase institutional diversity with greater representation of women, Dalits, Madhesi, indigenous and the traditionally excluded.&nbsp;
The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18719">APF was originally formed </a>to suppress the Maoist armed conflict and is now used to quell public protests. It should be dismantled, and the post of Chief District Officer abolished. &nbsp;
The Office of the Attorney General and the National Human Rights Commission have repeatedly failed to address police killings and torture. A strong independent mechanism is needed to investigate abuses of power and prosecute those responsible.&nbsp;
The argument is that holding police to account will damage their morale. Actually, ending impunity and enforcing accountability would enhance the police’s public image and strengthen the institution, enabling it to maintain law and order without turning into a killing machine.&nbsp;
More importantly, we need to design <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/two-sides-of-the-same-coin">state institutions</a> to be empathetic. Only then will society embody tolerance. If culture of killing is accepted, it fosters violence. This is what happened on 9 September. The mayhem was no coincidence.&nbsp;
Police killings and abuse of power, and their entrenched impunity, have led to mounting public anger towards the state and resentment towards the system. If this continues unchecked, it will threaten the very stability of democracy that these institutions are supposed to safeguard. &nbsp;
Prashanta Khanal is an independent climate and transport policy researcher.&nbsp;

Policing the Police

The Trump administration’s recent announcement of its <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2026/01/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-withdraws-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">withdrawal from 66 international organisations</a> has been met with a mixture of alarm and applause. &nbsp;While the headline number suggests a dramatic retreat from the world stage, a closer look reveals a more nuanced, and perhaps more insidious, strategy.&nbsp;
The move is less a wholesale abandonment of the United Nations system and more a targeted pruning of the multilateral vine, aimed at withering specific branches of global cooperation that the administration deems contrary to its interests. While the immediate financial impact may be less than feared, the long-term consequences for the UN and the rules-based international order are profound.
At first glance, the withdrawal appears to be a sweeping rejection of global engagement. <a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2026/01/withdrawing-the-united-states-from-international-organizations-conventions-and-treaties-that-are-contrary-to-the-interests-of-the-united-states/" target="_blank">The list of targeted entities</a> is long and diverse, ranging from the well-known UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) to more obscure bodies like the International Lead and Zinc Study Group. However, as <a href="https://casquebleu.substack.com/p/unpacking-the-results-of-the-review" target="_blank">Eugene Chen</a> has astutely observed, the reality is more complex.
The vast majority of the UN-related entities on the list are not independent international organisations, but rather subsidiary bodies, funds, and programmes of the UN itself. The administration is not, for now, withdrawing from the UN Charter, but rather selectively defunding and disengaging from the parts of the UN system it finds objectionable.
This selective approach reveals a clear ideological agenda. The targeted entities are overwhelmingly focused on issues that the Trump administration has long disdained: climate change, sustainable development, gender equality, and human rights. The list includes the UN’s main development arm, the Department of Economic and Social Affairs; its primary gender entity, UN Women; and a host of bodies dedicated to peacebuilding and conflict prevention.&nbsp;
The inclusion of the UN’s regional economic commissions, which play a vital role in promoting regional cooperation and development, is particularly telling. This is not simply a cost-cutting exercise; it is a deliberate attempt to dismantle the architecture of global cooperation in areas that do not align with the administration’s narrow, nationalist worldview.
The decision to remain a member of the UN’s specialised agencies, such as the World Health Organization (from which the administration has already announced its withdrawal in a separate action) and the International Atomic Energy Agency, is equally revealing. This is not a sign of a renewed commitment to multilateralism, but rather a cold, calculated decision based on a narrow definition of US national security interests.&nbsp;
The administration has made it clear that it sees these agencies as useful tools to counter the influence of a rising China. This ‘à la carte’ approach to multilateralism, where the US picks and chooses which parts of the system to support based on its own geopolitical interests, is deeply corrosive to the principles of collective security and universal values that underpin the UN Charter.
What, then, should be done? The international community cannot afford to simply stand by and watch as the UN system is hollowed out from within. A concerted effort is needed to mitigate the damage and reaffirm the importance of multilateral cooperation.
First, other member states must step up to fill the financial and leadership void left by the United States. This will require not only increased financial contributions, but also a renewed political commitment to the UN’s work in the areas of sustainable development, climate action, and human rights.&nbsp;
Second, civil society organisations and the academic community have a crucial role to play in monitoring the impact of the US withdrawal and advocating for the continued relevance of the affected UN entities.&nbsp;
Finally, the UN itself must do a better job of communicating its value to a sceptical public. The organisation must move beyond bureaucratic jargon and technical reports to tell a compelling story about how its work makes a real difference in the lives of people around the world.
The Trump administration’s latest move is a stark reminder that the post-war international order can no longer be taken for granted. It is a call to action for all who believe in the power of multilateralism to address our shared global challenges. The UN may be a flawed and imperfect institution, but it remains our best hope for a more peaceful, prosperous, and sustainable world. We must not allow it to wither on the vine.
Jordan Ryan is at the Toda Peace Institute and a former UN Assistant Secretary-General with extensive experience in international peacebuilding, human rights, and development policy.&nbsp;
This article was issued by the Toda Peace Institute and has been republished from <a href="https://toda.org/global-outlook/2026/the-uns-withering-vine-a-us-retreat-from-global-governance.html">the original</a> with permission.

The UN’s withering vine

Despite funding setbacks, Nepal’s public health sector keeps developing new initiatives to strengthen maternal and newborn health. Two in particular, aimed at improving maternal nutrition and safe delivery, are in the pipeline for 2026.
The first initiative is multiple micronutrient supplementation (MMS) for pregnant women. The MMS will replace the iron and folic acid (IFA) supplements that the government now provides with 15 essential vitamins and minerals, including IFA.
The second plan is to do field research on the use of carbetocin as a drug to prevent post-partum haemmorhage (PPH). This is important because carbetocin is not as heat-sensitive as oxytocin, the current main option for treating PPH. In fact, the new medicine is known as heat-sensitive carbetocin (HSC).
The study is scheduled to start early in the new year. It will be a collaboration between One Heart Worldwide, Ferring Pharmaceuticals and the family welfare division (FWD) of the Department of Health.
A recent study in Nigeria found that health-care providers preferred giving HSC to women delivering babies because it had fewer side-effects and was of higher quality than oxytocin, which was often reported to be degraded by heat or supply-chain issues. The same issues are also barriers in Nepal.
PPH has for decades been one of the leading causes of maternal deaths, in Nepal and globally.
“We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes,” says Pooja Pandey Rana, Country Director of Helen Keller International for Bangladesh and Nepal.
The MMS plan is a collaboration between the FWD, the NGO Helen Keller International, Eleanor Crook Foundation, a US-based organisation that funds nutrition work globally, and other development partners.
According to Lili Bikram Thapa, Chief Nutrition Officer at the FWD, they are now preparing a road map for the rolling out of MMS once an assessment is finalised. Meanwhile, Indra Dhoj Kshetri of Helen Keller International said that his organisation is providing technical support to develop the road map.&nbsp;
“We hope that the government will gradually roll out MMS in a few provinces towards the end of this fiscal year July 2026,” said Kshetri, Officer, Africa and Asia Content Marketing, at the organisation.
He added that the partners are now researching possible “issues and bottlenecks” about switching to MMS as well as acceptance of the new supplements by pregnant women. Findings of both analyses are expected in January 2026.
MONEY MATTERS
Another current task, said Kshetri, is trying to get MMS added to Nepal’s essential medicine list (EML). That would reduce its cost. Today, MMS is imported as a food supplement and subject to 30% customs duty. But once on the EML, that duty would drop to about 5%, making it easier on the wallets of development partners and — if the government eventually takes over the programme as planned — on the public purse.
Of course, getting it on the list does not guarantee its availability. As many previous reports have pointed out, including a recent article in NepalNews, local governments have had a hard time keeping all medicines in stock. This would of course also apply to HSC if it is approved for use.
Earlier this year a Micronutrient Survey planned for 2025 was cancelled after USAID shut down.&nbsp;
When asked if it was a good idea to go ahead with MMS if they didn’t know the current state of micronutrients in Nepali diets, Pooja Pandey Rana of Helen Keller International said that while a micronutrient survey would have added useful insights, it is unlikely to have a significant impact on the government’s planned transition to MMS.&nbsp;
“There’s already a body of evidence from the Nepal Demographic and Health Survey and past micronutrient surveys that Nepali women have high levels of micronutrient deficiencies and undernutrition,” she added.
“Prior research consistently shows that MMS leads to better pregnancy outcomes compared to IFA alone. A large body of global evidence reinforces these findings. And therefore, WHO has recommended to include MMS in the antenatal care package. We are confident that transitioning from IFA to MMS will enable expectant mothers to receive a more comprehensive suite of micronutrients, leading to improved pregnancy outcomes.”
The plan is to start rolling out MMS in one province by July 2026.&nbsp;

Marty Logan

Safe delivery in 2026

The dawn air in Muktikot is dewy as the sun sets over the horizon in the mountains of western Nepal. A sad farewell song drifts across the village from a mud plastered house.&nbsp; Rani BK sings a half melody, half lament: “I feel like my own hands are being cut off as you leave.” She is bidding farewell to her youngest brother, 37-year-old Ranne, his wife Akashe. They are going to Bangalore in India to find work. Neighbours gather quietly in the gathering light, some wiping their eyes, others joining in song. “Please, don’t cry,” Ranne says softly. “These tears will haunt us on the journey.” Migration is not new to Muktikot, but the tears are. For decades, nearly every household here has sent its men to India every winter to work. They return in spring to plant their crops.&nbsp; What is new is that women like Akashe BK are now also going, and for longer periods. The couple is leaving their two of their children behind, and will be away for at least five years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260203130224_f8d2d5980da1f3c1e22944003969d64cffd10f280c523ab207f983ef42b4cb9b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Daughter and son left behind with Rani BK after departure.</figcaption> </figure>  Ranne has been a daily wage labourer since he was 17, moving across Nepal and different parts of northern India. This journey is different — it will be to southern India.&nbsp; He had borrowed Rs50,000 from a local lender to cover the travel cost, hoping to recoup it from his earnings as a security guard. Aakashe plans to work as a household helper.&nbsp; “We would not go if we have a choice,” Aakase says quietly, her eyes fixed on “We are forced to leave our children. We cannot afford to educate them, there is little to eat here, no water, no work, no electricity.” Their daughter Sitala, 12, and son Dipson, 10, put auspicious red tika on their parents’ foreheads. Aakase sobs as she asks relatives to look after their children and their house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260203130224_a6316df8ff8a7f95d963396f2a01a7549dca3dcc1ac0364763eecd9f29b7bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Departure of Ranne BK.</figcaption> </figure>  “We may return by the time you finish school,” Ranne tells Sitala, who is in Grade 6. Sitala stands forlorn by herself, not saying anything. Across Muktikot, women who once stayed back to raise children and manage households now join their husbands in India to support families in these remote mountains of western Nepal.&nbsp; Unnati BK, 30, and her husband Barune BK decided to migrate to India after their home was damaged by landslides in 2021 and the family was nearly killed. The arid farms did not produce enough food as rains failed. “Nothing grows here,” says Unnati, who is also leaving for Bangalore with her husband, along with Ranne and Akashe.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260203130228_50db0f2d1827584bc9aa6d19d7d79b385ea1211192ccfc1f1147b245c941912e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Unnati BK</figcaption> </figure>  After 54 families lost their homes in landslides four years ago, the district administration has set aside Rs500,000 for families including Unnati and Barune. But although nearly complete, they have received only Rs175,000 each. Unnati had realised and told her husband that if they stayed in the village, their sorrows would multiply. So they planned to leave, hoping that a little extra hardship in India would allow them to pay for the education of their three children, who are 11, eight, and six years old. “We chose Bangalore because relatives told us it is easy to find jobs there for both men and women,” Barune says. They plan to leave their children with Unnati’s parents for now, and later send them 250km away to Kailali to attend school.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260203130228_3ee37136e936fe7dba7d1320452c83a17f08805663a7cbb4b6efa986c79147ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Landslide four years ago caused 54 families to lose their homes.</figcaption> </figure>  More than 75 couples from 350 households in Muktikot have left for cities like Mumbai and Bangalore in the past three years alone, leaving behind their children either with their in-laws or in the Tarai cities where they go to school. Ajay Kumar BK, chair of the rural municipality of Muktikot says, “There is a clear intention to leave the village altogether.” &nbsp; Diksha BK, 25, has three sons aged six, three, and one. Her husband Dhirjan works in Surkhet. She and her husband have given up on Muktikot, saying they see no future there. DISASTER-PRONE Muktikot is populated mostly by Dalit families, and used to be named Dumkot after a derogatory term used by higher caste people for Dalits. During the Maoist conflict, many Dalit boys joined the guerrillas and the rebels renamed it Muktikot, meaning ‘freedom’.&nbsp; The village clings to a steep mountain flank wrinkled with rain-fed farm terraces. Many of the men who have left for India have never come back, and now even the women are leaving. The 2020 Disaster Preparedness and Response Plan of Bajura identifies Muktikot as a disaster-prone area, making its rain-fed agriculture vulnerable to droughts. The denuded slopes above are at risk of landslides.&nbsp; The 2021 International Migration in Nepal report counted 13,482 people migrating to India from Bajura alone that year. There are an estimated 3.5 million Nepalis living and working in Nepal — mostly from the western mountains.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260203130228_df4f333c7a5bc0b0a7fd75ae6c2e9f02444a097fc5b13c24dc61a276ea6ac3ff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Houses being built under resettlement plan.</figcaption> </figure>  National Environment and Equity Development Society (NEEDS) Nepal found that 70% of households in Sudhurpaschim Province have had at least one member migrating to India at some point in their lives. “Female migration used to be low, but there is now an observable trend of women migrating for work from Sudhurpaschim,” says Prakash Madai of NEEDS Nepal. However, anthropologist Jeevan R Sharma says female migration is not new, what is different is the scale and duration of women migrants. Increasing demand for part-time household help in India makes it a pull-factor for Nepali women from the rural west to enter the informal workforce. “Women used to go only when opportunities arose, working for half a year to maximum two years, and frequently going back and forth,” says Sharma. “The potential rise is likely due to the need for greater income driven by rising cash-based expenses for health, education, food, and purchase of consumer goods.” COST OF LEAVING “Previously people struggled for basic needs, and we did not have the money or the roads to travel to Kathmandu, which is why most people went to India for manual work,” says Kartik Kami, 60, of the rural municipality. “Migration trends have changed because both men and women can make money washing, cooking, and cleaning in cities. Soon, there will be no one to conduct weddings or funerals, only children will remain.” While women from other parts of Nepal began participating in foreign employment three decades ago, women from traditional Sudurpaschim families are only now venturing into the Indian labour market. “This surge is filling a labour vacuum in India created when its domestic migrants shifted their focus to Gulf countries,” explains historian Yadab Devkota. Yet, research paints a social cost. A 2020 study found that children of migrant parents suffer loneliness and neglect due to the absence of parental care and love. Children fall back in studies, and girl children are burdened with excessive workload managing the household and siblings.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260203130232_e1e02cd082e7cbb77243103b2197fd1dfca75531bb9d6f518763afccb9ed452c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Sitala BK, daughter of Ranne and Aakashe.</figcaption> </figure>  The emotional toll is manifested in anxiety, stress, depression, and in some cases, suicide, especially for those whose mothers have migrated.&nbsp; “The significant shift towards couple migration is driven by families making difficult and high-cost decisions in the hopes of breaking the cycle of poverty,” says Arjun Kharel at the Centre for the Study of Labour and Mobility (CESLAM ). “Migration remains primarily a strategy for subsistence rather than development, it is a calculated family decision made in the absence of local opportunities.” Migration to India remains largely invisible to the Nepal government. The country’s foreign employment framework does not extend to migrants going to India. And because they travel through the open border, they are not regulated by formal systems.&nbsp; There is no accurate count of how many Nepalis are working in India, or of Indians in Nepal. According to the Indian Population and Housing Census, there are 600,000 Nepalis working in India, but this is a gross underestimation.&nbsp; A study by Aapti Institute describes Nepali migrants in India as ‘liminal’ neither fully protected as citizens nor recognised as foreigners there, exposing them to exploitation and risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260203130232_14a613729f6ebb1db0bec63032cc78abe3087341680b2f88bc0ab4456621b012" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1067" loading="lazy" alt="women migrating"> <figcaption>Ranne and Aakashe's last night at home.</figcaption> </figure>  “Nepali migrants in India are not covered by compensation if they fall sick and or if die, unlike migrants to other overseas destinations who can receive compensation of up to Rs700,000,” notes labour migration expert Saru Joshi. The recent draft National Labour Migration Policy 2025 of the Ministry of Labour, Employment, and Social Security offers a flicker of hope for migrants to India with provisions for welfare, social security, and mental health support for families left behind. The draft also mandates better data collection of the movement of people.&nbsp; It is unlikely that these initiatives will make any difference to the people who remain in Muktikot. Many like Ranne and Akashe are likely to go to India for work. “If I had only two or three children, I would take my wife to India too,” says Jaya BK, 46. But he has seven children, including newborn twins, whom he has stayed behind to help his wife look after this time, rather than leaving for Uttarakhand in winter like he usually does.&nbsp; With the support of Internews' Earth Journalism Network.

Mass migration from Muktikot

The Himalayan mountains are also known as the Third Pole because it is the largest repository of water stored as ice outside the two polar regions. However, it is divided by political boundaries that nature does not recognise – be it the air pollutants that flow or migratory birds that fly over the peaks. The Himalaya is also a geopolitical and climate change hot spot. In these geopolitically and environmentally challenging times, it becomes even more important to create oases of conversations, where candid and future-oriented discussions can take place at a people-to-people level. Platforms dominated by inter-governmental agencies have been able to do little. The Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) aims to be a platform that stands at the crossroads of climate, community, and connectivity, fostering dialogue and promoting citizen-led action. Growing up in the Indian Himalayan town of Kalimpong and spending the nascent stages of my career helping in setting up offices of the award-winning Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP) that fostered community involvement in conservation, I have witnessed transformations both good and bad.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260205070244_6e2087b11fff0cc6704eebaee6f169848a9cfd57c4a02d7d1fd45db2526d2f67" data-rendition-name="original" width="5559" height="3711" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  There are initiatives like Nepal’s forest cover doubling in 30 years, or Bhutan’s drive for high-end sustainable tourism. At the same time, I have seen landscapes destroyed by bulldozers and tall buildings competing for air and sunlight in expanding cities. From crony capitalists patronised by political leaders engaged in plundering natural resources to citizen-led initiatives on cleanliness drives and waste management, the Himalayan region is full of stories from both ends of the spectrum of disappointment and hope. Life is about observing and, in one’s little sphere of influence, taking baby steps towards catalysing positive transformation. This is why, Nepal Economic Forum (NEF) had been hosting the Himalayan Consensus Summit in Nepal from 2014 to 2020 following which the Himalayan Future Forum (HFF) was incubated since 2023. HFF is an initiative to encourage multi-faceted dialogues on the topics of climate, community, and connectivity in the Himalayan region by bringing together leaders, experts, institutions, and practitioners from different countries and sectors.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260205070244_a7e673507dcdb6e265cb6f76f2890f17af36f17006a7f6d0f2f0e1a288c89a09" data-rendition-name="original" width="5364" height="3581" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  In this year’s edition, there are a series of sessions on 6 February with 34 speakers including ten international panelists. On day two the Himalayan Haat aims to showcase a variety of local, indigenous, and sustainable products. As in 2024, it is believed that the conversations and interactions at the HFF will lead to more partnerships and collaborations from climate financing to managing disasters to taking Himalayan brands global. YOUNG FELLOWS Beyond this, there are sessions on topics such as geopolitics and the Himalaya, as well as on migration which are especially relevant considering the past few years that have seen many events which impacted the global world order. One of the key features of HFF, guided by our ethos of bringing together experts, experiences, and enthusiasm, is also to ensure stronger youth representation through the HFF Youth Fellowship. This year, following a rigorous screening process, youth fellows were selected out of an overwhelming response. Those chosen will be able to attend the events as well as collaborate in future research and publications. Selected fellows will also be provided with full scholarships to the public policy program at Takshashila Institution, an independent centre for research and education in public policy in Bangalore. In a region where half of the population is under 25 years, it is important to get the future generations also in the room.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260205070244_3416bd14d5249afeb357b11f760f49b0cd1d77feeac71d820406b2d9e86696bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="5273" height="3520" loading="lazy" alt="HFF 2026"></figure>  Nepal presents an ideal location to hold meetings such as this, where no-holds-barred conversations can take place face-to-face. The country has good air connectivity and one of the most liberal visa policies in Asia. And while Davos is a good example to follow for convening global voices, we need not have so many private planes burning fossil fuel, as we can have participants take scheduled commercial flights or have regional participants simply take a road trip. Ultimately, the Himalayan region is also about festivities. No exchange of ideas is complete without immersing in art, culture, culinary experiences, and music. This is why HFF envisages graduating to a Himalayan Jatra, rooted in a region where people smile from the heart, and teach the world to smile with them. Join us at HFF 2026 as we move closer to this vision. See the schedule <a href="file:///Z:/%231297%20February%206/pix/page%209/HFF%202026%20Program%20Schedule%20(1)_compressed.pdf">here</a>. Sujeev Shakya is Chair of Nepal Economic Forum and Convenor of the Himalayan Future Forum.

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