For decades, Nepal’s leaders have promised prosperity by harnessing ‘white oil’, the vast hydroelectricity potential of Himalayan rivers. So far, less than one-tenth of the 48,000MW of feasible hydropower has been exploited — nearly all from run-of-river schemes that do not store water, but use the energy of steep rapids. This results in an annual monsoon power glut, and power scarcity in the dry season as rivers run low. Dams to store water in large reservoirs would solve that problem and balance year-round electricity generation and water supply. Nepal’s only existing reservoir project is Kulekhani, a rock-filled dam built back in 1982 that impounded a 7km long lake called Indrasarovar near Kathmandu. The only second reservoir in Nepal is the 150m tall concrete dam here in Tanahu that stores water for 17 days and is scheduled for completion in 2026.&nbsp; Plans for other dams are stalled: Budi Gandaki (1,200MW) with a 280m high dam, West Seti (750MW), Sun Kosi II (1,110MW) and the mammoth Mahakali (Pancheshwar) Dam on the western border with India. Even bigger projects have been proposed, like the gigantic Karnali Dam at Chisapani (10,800MW) and the Kosi High Dam at Barachhetra in Sunsari.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dam-dangerous">Dam dangerous</a>, Ramesh Kumar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_e9384b8a0ef56b30019f6f217a7b3536fed0fa7abdb495a20efdddb622bfbed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024072005078_e9384b8a0ef56b30019f6f217a7b3536fed0fa7abdb495a20efdddb622bfbed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="1970" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>Built in 1982, Kulekhani is the only reservoir project in Nepal today. Photos: PINKI SRIS RANA</figcaption> </figure>  “Except Kulekhani, all hydropower projects in Nepal are run-of-river which produce enough electricity during the peak monsoon season, but in winter there is no rain and during that time, we buy electricity at a costlier rate than we sell to India,” says former Water Resources Minister Dipak Gyawali.&nbsp; Gyawali reasons that storage hydropower will even out the seasonal imbalance of both the water and the electricity, and boost Nepal’s domestic economy.&nbsp; However, storage projects are more expensive because of construction, land acquisition and impact on food supply. But there is a way to reduce cost by ensuring that regulated water has multi-purpose benefits downstream for agriculture and for fisheries, water supply, or tourism, with electricity a byproduct. Hydropower developer Kumar Pandey agrees: “The widening of a reservoir project’s purpose broadens investment prospects from different sectors and helps minimise the energy cost.” However, Nepal will have to balance the economy’s growing demand for year-round clean energy with those dams damaging local livelihoods, riverine ecosystems, lowering food production and exposing expensive infrastructure to climate and seismic risk.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_524f39c49583df1fb201abf67995edcc1dc808dd7a1b499b247978a750c06c5e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024072005078_524f39c49583df1fb201abf67995edcc1dc808dd7a1b499b247978a750c06c5e" data-rendition-name="original" width="3500" height="2625" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>Construction site of the 140m high concrete dam on the Seti River that will impound a reservoir 18km long in Tanahu when the project is completed in 2026. </figcaption> </figure>  Industrialised countries are dismantling some of their dams to let their rivers flow free again. But Nepal is only now embarking on a dam-building spree for energy and regulated water.&nbsp; “Nepal’s need for electricity is still to be fulfilled, so dismantling dams is pretty far-fetched,” says Gyawali. “Rather than ‘no dams’, we should be pushing for ‘no bad dams’.” There are currently 167 licensed hydropower projects in Nepal whose installed capacity will reach 3,000MW this year. When 278 new projects that are under construction come on stream, electricity generation will exceed 10,000MW by 2030. Dams in Nepal tend to have shorter lifespans because Himalayan rivers have some of the highest sediment loads in the world. Making dams seismic resistant adds to their cost. On top of this, there are now added dangers of glacial lake outburst floods, extreme rainfall and landslide dammed river ruptures.&nbsp; Nepal’s rivers frequently suffer these disasters, the latest in 2021 in Melamchi and eastern Nepal last year that damaged hydropower infrastructure. But an example of catastrophic destruction was the October 2023 flood on Sikkim’s Teesta that destroyed the $1.2 billion Chungthang dam and other projects. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/missing-pieces-of-the-hydropower-jigsaw">Missing pieces of the hydropower jigsaw</a>, Sonia Awale&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_6495183f214ce73edf5b9ffe8a307f150b9a21d59b892c7b5ec46d6861a32a66.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2024072005078_6495183f214ce73edf5b9ffe8a307f150b9a21d59b892c7b5ec46d6861a32a66" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1347" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>The 3D rendition on the Tanahu project dam.</figcaption> </figure>  “Climate change has drastically changed rainfall patterns, and we are yet to understand the impact on the hydropower projects,” says Kumar Pandey. “There can be many different factors that put dams at risk, but exaggerating the risks even before a project is started is fear-mongering.” Near Damauli, halfway between Kathmandu and Pokhara, the designers of the Tanahu dam say they have taken into account the Seti River’s origins in the glaciers of the Annapurna and its frequent floods.&nbsp; “We factor in the worst-case scenario and measure the probable maximum flood that could happen and tailor the structure to withstand the probable flood,” says acting project head Shyamji Bhandari at the project site near Damauli. Tanahu’s design includes flushing gates to minimise monsoon sedimentation to ensure longevity of the dam. Bhandari adds, “And if these measures aren’t enough and a calamity does strike, we also have an emergency siren system to warn downstream areas.” Nepal’s rivers are older than the Himalaya, and many of them start in China, cutting mighty gorges through the mountains, and flow down to join the Ganga in India before emptying into the delta in Bangladesh.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_f34e6ce2a703d568ea5ce69de3d75dd667838996f0a083673c78eb249c47fd0f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024072005078_f34e6ce2a703d568ea5ce69de3d75dd667838996f0a083673c78eb249c47fd0f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1330" height="882" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> </figure>  Rivers do not respect country boundaries, but hydropower projects are built within national jurisdictions. Nepal has had to navigate intricate geopolitics with its lower riparian neighbour India, and it has not always gone smoothly. Past projects like the Kosi and Gandaki that India built on the border 50 years ago are seen by many experts as being unfair to Nepal. More recently, New Delhi has refused to buy surplus electricity from hydropower projects in Nepal in which the Chinese are involved. Reservoirs in the Himalaya are going to be even more geopolitically sensitive because the climate crisis will make water a strategic commodity for India’s densely populated and increasingly prosperous Ganga plains. “Rivers are continuous with upstream-downstream linkages. Anything done on rivers in Nepal will have an impact downstream, which is why rivers should be studied in totality, and infrastructure designed keeping that in mind,” says water expert and author Ajaya Dixit.&nbsp; Storage dams in Nepal will regulate water on rivers flowing downstream, and if Nepal builds them with international loans India will benefit for free, while Nepal’s fertile and populated valleys are submerged. But for strategic reasons, India may want to have a say in Nepal’s plans to dam its rivers. An estimated<a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/321426715_Groundwater_resilience_Nepal_Preliminary_findings_from_a_case_study_in_the_Middle_Hills"> 70% of dry season flow</a> and 40% of annual discharge on the Ganga comes down from its tributaries in Nepal. It therefore makes sense for India and Nepal to plan for the future by regulating flow. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/balance-of-power">Balance of Power</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_d26f93973f5687cbcde14e194a9f58979e94326dc612edc86221b97f55677790.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2024072005078_d26f93973f5687cbcde14e194a9f58979e94326dc612edc86221b97f55677790" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1266" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> </figure>  The other consideration is ecological. Dams are even more disruptive on riverine ecosystems than run-of-river schemes, and destroy the habitat of Himalayan rivers which are havens for biodiversity. Some endangered fish, amphibian and bird species are found nowhere else on the planet.&nbsp; A 2018 Asian Development Bank report, Impact of Dams on Fish and Rivers in Nepal, found that hydropower projects did not use any tool to measure the possible impact on aquatic biodiversity. &nbsp; ‘Dams act as barriers for migratory movement of fish, in many cases, threatening species’ survival,’ the report stated. In northeastern Nepal, a local community in Lumba Sumba is lobbying internationally to crowdfund a campaign against a hydropower project on ancestral land in the Chhujung River valley that they say will also disturb the habitat of endangered snow leopards. How well Nepal’s planners can balance geopolitics, rising energy demand and economic growth with ecosystem protection and respect for human rights will be tested in the coming years, as the country embarks on a dam-building spree. &nbsp;&nbsp; <h2>Displacing people to store water</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072005078_2870cd71c55d84dd835d90b13a34235a0c477b525a2b78ec2b3a3b129e065a83.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024072005078_2870cd71c55d84dd835d90b13a34235a0c477b525a2b78ec2b3a3b129e065a83" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1333" loading="lazy" alt="Rivers be dammed NT"> <figcaption>The Tanahu project will inundate the house of Battimaya Biswakarma as well as those of her family members in Wangtangetar.</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s first reservoir project on the Kulekhani Khola was built in 1982 on a spring-fed stream near Kathmandu. The inundation displaced 3,500 people who were not adequately compensated. “Back then, people were naive and Kulekhani residents gave up their land without much discussion,” says Ram Kumar Shrestha, 59, whose family was among those who had to move. They are currently living on the outskirts of Markhu. His father, Jhamak Lal Shrestha was the village head during the absolute monarchy days. Residents of Kulekhani under consideration to be given land in Thori near the Indian border in Chitwan, but many were not happy. “It was too hot and there was danger from wild animals,” recalls the senior Shrestha, now 79. Some invested the compensation money on land elsewhere and did well, but others spent it on everyday expenses and were soon destitute. The compensation and resettlement plan for the Kulekhani displaced was ‘deeply flawed’ as per a report by researcher Jagdish Chandra Pokharel. And Nepal’s record for resettlement of people for infrastructure and national parks has not improved since then.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/geopolitics-of-nepal-s-rivers">Geopolitics of Nepal’s rivers</a>, Ramesh Kumar Kulekhani’s history is being repeated in Tanahu. By the banks of the Seti River in the village of Badarkuna, cows and water buffaloes graze without a herder in sight amidst cement pillars with painted numbers.&nbsp; These are farms that belong to the people of Paltyang village, who cultivated fields by the river but lived up the mountain till as recently as three years ago.&nbsp; “Our ancestors lived in Paltyang because there was malaria down here in Badarkuna,” explains Til Bahadur Thapa, 64, who along with wife Sansasri worked the fields by the river and climbed back up to Paltyang just to sleep.&nbsp; The cement pillars on Thapa’s field mark the area that will be inundated by the Tanahu dam. After they were put up, the Thapas stopped farming here.&nbsp; Yam Kumari Thapa, 43, grew more than enough rice and maize in her fields near Fedi Khola, a tributary of Seti– that will soon be submerged. She sold the surplus in the market. Now, she is fighting for compensation for her land.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024072708078_bce072e5e7051cbbb995ed2763bca448927b576f14acdcc8e636755961642838.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2024072708078_bce072e5e7051cbbb995ed2763bca448927b576f14acdcc8e636755961642838" data-rendition-name="original" width="1920" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="Building dams"> </figure>  A little above Badarkuna is a Dalit settlement that will also soon be underwater. The land is undocumented, and this means compensation from the project will be complicated for the 12 families here.&nbsp; “We know that electricity is important and we are not against development,” says Battimaya Biswakarma of the Dalit settlement of Wangtangetar. “All we are asking for is a place to live like we were living here.” The Tanahu project has affected 560 households but 41 households are fighting for land compensation. How the Tanahu project compensates them will set a &nbsp;precedent for other even bigger reservoir projects being planned, like Budi Gandaki which will displace 3,560 households and Sun Kosi II which will affect 15,000 people. “Hydropower is built on rivers and water is a socially required resource which is why the development of dams brings out a lot of local social and environmental issues,” explains hydropower developer Kumar Pandey. &nbsp; Run-of-river projects are at high risk from floods, but relatively benign because unlike reservoirs, they do not displace too many people and submerge fertile farmlands.&nbsp; Some experts say Nepal should not be investing in colossal projects like the $1.3 billion Upper Arun in northeastern Nepal directly under mountains that will be vulnerable to glacial lake outburst floods, and instead prioritise smaller schemes and spread the risk. “Smaller run-of-river projects require much less area while mega storage projects submerge huge tracts of farmland and displace people, making the financial and social cost heavier,” says Jagdish Chandra Pokharel, author of the Kulekhani report and former chair of the National Planning Commission.&nbsp; However, the need for a year-round balance of electricity and water supply is forcing Nepal’s planners to look at the larger picture and opt for big reservoir projects.&nbsp; Til Bahadur Thapa looks below at his fields on the banks of Seti River that his ancestors have farmed for generations but will now be submerged by the Tanahu reservoir. He says simply, “A country cannot develop by driving people like us off the land.” &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-the-waters-of-life">Saving the waters of life</a>, Mohan Mainali

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Rivers be dammed

Nepali hydropower industry is poised to play a bigger role in Nepal’s energy transition to meet its 2045 net zero target. Nepal Hydropower Association (NHA) last month hosted a ‘Made in Nepal’ booth at the Hydro23 conference in Edinburgh which was attended by 1,000 delegates from 70 countries. There were over 30 delegates from Nepal. The Nepal booth showcased and promoted Nepali hydropower expertise, experience and its ability to offer a diverse range of services across the whole hydropower value chain in emerging markets for projects up to 100MW. This was a show of Nepal’s new confidence in the experience its technicians and engineers have gained in the past decades. With its natural geographical advantage, Nepal actually has over 100 years of experience in hydro-electricity, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-1st-hydroelectric-plant-is-a-museum-piece">Pharping being only the second hydropower plant in Asia</a> when it was built in 1911. In his new book What Went Right: Sustainability versus Dependence in Nepal's Hydropower Development, US professor Mark Liechty explains why Nepal’s hydropower sector has been such a success among the many development models that Nepal’s donors experimented with over the last seven decades. Liechty traces the history of indigenous capacity in Nepal’s hydropower with capital financing, tender bid process, EIA, engineering consulting, construction, generation, maintenance, transmission to distribution. Nepalis also gained experience in project management and delivery along with increased sophistication of the local high precision machining and tunnelling expertise in the challenging Himalayan geology and climate. Nepal’s Ambassador to the UK Gyan Chandra Acharya said: “Nepal’s hydro industry has a unique position and readiness to contribute to reducing greenhouse gas in South Asia and beyond. This global interaction can only be mutually beneficial.” There are now 130 hydroelectric plants in Nepal delivering nearly 3,000MW, with another 240 plants under construction. Such an experience and a steep learning curve in a short development period has meant that the sector has proven that it can build hydro projects at speed and at a competitive price globally. Evidence of this is the trend towards Chinese contractors outsourcing some of their hydro engineering design work to Nepali engineering consultancies. The output and competitive consulting fees proves that Nepal’s engineering design is ready to do business globally. Nepal’s Energy Secretary Dinesh Ghimire told the Edinburgh gathering: “Made in Nepal can be a platform to share Nepal’s successes and tell the world that we are ready to do business by selling its hydropower building expertise.” Hydro Consult Engineering, a company with 30 years experience in Nepal promoted its services and capabilities in Edinburgh. It has completed projects in Pakistan, and two small new plants are in the pipeline in Kenya and Uganda. Hydro’s CEO Manohar Shrestha said: “We are excited with our international projects. They are challenging, but we are confident that these projects are a growth and learning opportunities for us.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231106141148_586f173e596cfd0fd49f3822431958a9fea0fe59293a3fa431b1d357e452e27a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231106141148_586f173e596cfd0fd49f3822431958a9fea0fe59293a3fa431b1d357e452e27a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1066" loading="lazy" alt="Hydro 2023"> <figcaption>Nepal Hydropower Association at Hydro23 conference in Edinburgh.</figcaption> </figure>  Conference organiser Alison Bartle publisher of the journal Hydropower and Dams said that the world is becoming aware of Nepal’s speed of advancement within the sector despite its geological and geopolitical challenges. “Nepal is fast becoming a hydro hub in the region,” she added. “We are especially happy that Nepal is cultivating cross border partnerships and exploring electricity trade with India and Bangladesh. It is a game changer.” Delegates said the next steps were for NHA and the Ministry of Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation to support the industry’s growth, and project Nepal was a model for successful energy transition at climate summits including at the COP 28 in Dubai this month.

Nepal's hydropower goes international

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08219c7e80680e0a5ffejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="595"/><figcaption>Pokhara on a clear autumn day. All photos: KRISHNA MANI BARAL</figcaption></figure>The once pristine Phewa Lake that used to reflect the majestic Annapurnas and Machhapuchre <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokharas-shrinking-lakes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">is shrinking</a>, depriving Pokhara of its main attraction.Siltation from the river and streams feeding into it have reduced its area, the lake has become an urban garbage and sewage dumping site, and real estate speculators have encroached on the banks. Geologists have calculated that the lake accumulates more than 142,000 tonnes of sediment every year.Tourism-driven urbanisation and pollution mean that the famous lake is now devoid of its aquatic life, and there has been a visible decline in the number of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">migratory birds</a> nesting here. Indicator insects such as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/night-of-the-firefly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">fireflies</a>, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/project-dragonfly/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">dragonflies</a> and butterflies that depend on clean water sources have also started to vanish.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08239c7e80680e0a5fffjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="1067"><figcaption>Parts of Phewa Lake have become an urban garbage and sewage dumping site.</figcaption></figure>But more worryingly, this important <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18976" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wetland</a> in Pokhara and a major Ramsar site is shrinking rapidly due to increased sediment load due to haphazard building and road construction on the slopes above the lake.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Unusually heavy monsoon downpours</a> last month in the Phewa watershed washed down silt into the lake, turning the water turbid brown, and submerging paddy fields in the river delta.In 1957, Phewa Lake was 1,119 hectares, but a survey earlier this year by Gandaki Province showed it had shrunk to 572 hectares. “At this rate, Phewa taal will be reduced to a mere pond in the next two decades,” says local Pame resident Shankar Aryal.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08269c7e80680e0a6000jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2568" height="1584"><figcaption>The original extent of Phew Lake. It has shrunk by half today.</figcaption></figure>Phewa Lake was originally <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pokhara-six-decades-ago/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">stretched as far west as Chankhapur, </a>and boats would go up to Pame to transport goods. Traders from as far as Parbat district used these boats to bring their produce to lakeside, transfer them to mules bound for Pokhara’s market. But with the extension of the road to Pame in 1994, people started using vehicles for transportation.What used to be a boat dock is now a swamp and has been filling up with sediment for the past two years. The land mafia has encroached further on the lake by using tipper trucks to dump soil on the lake to sell for new residential plots.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d082a9c7e80680e0a6001jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2500" height="1667"><figcaption>Boats docked at the shore of Phew lakeside in Pokhara last week on water made turbid by sediments.</figcaption></figure>“Wetlands are the earth's kidneys, they filter water at the source, which then flows into the lake. Their deterioration and disappearance do not bode well for our water bodies and causes the lake to shrink further,” explains conservationist Raju Acharya.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-braces-for-monsoon-pandemic-double-hit/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Irregular precipitation patterns due to the impact of the global climate crisis</a> have added to the problem. Pokhara receives the most rain in Nepal even at normal times. Earlier this month, it recorded 210mm of rain (10% of the annual average) in just 24 hours, bringing down huge quantities of sediment and raising the lake bed in the shallow shore near Chankhapur.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d082e9c7e80680e0a6002jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="683"><figcaption>Much of what used to be Phewa Lake has already been turned into paddy fields as the lake shrinks.</figcaption></figure>On one hand, the rise in water level allowed for invasive species such as water hyacinth found on the mouth of the lake to spread further and clog up the fish cages, resulting in financial losses for local businesses.But <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/heavier-than-usual-monsoon-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">heavy, incessant rains</a> also bring in large amounts of deposits. Landslides in the catchment area flow through the Khare River and into the Harpan River, the main source of Phewa lake. This in turn raises the bed of the lake, which like Pokhara’s other lakes, were formed after a catastrophic flood 800 years ago on the Seti River after a landslide dam burst upstream, covering the valley in debris 100m deep.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08309c7e80680e0a6003jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1024" height="683"><figcaption>The eastern edge of Phewa Lake has filled up with sediment, and this process is accelerating.</figcaption></figure>Much of what used to be Phewa Lake has already been turned into paddy fields as the lake shrinks. Pokhara Mayor Man Bahadur GC has vowed to clean up the lake and turn it back to its original condition. But his words have not been turned into action yet.Pokhara Metropolis with the Gandaki Province built <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pokhara-lake-lowered/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cofferdams and siltation ponds</a> last year to prevent soil and pebbles from the Harpan, Andheri River, Lauruk and Betayani Khola flowing in and then filling up the lake.But the check dam on Harpan Khola is already filled with sand and boulders from last month’s floods.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08339c7e80680e0a6004jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption>Tourism-driven urbanisation and pollution have depleted Phewa's aquatic and bird life. Increased siltation due to haphazard road construction in the watershed has turned the water brown this monsoon.</figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08369c7e80680e0a6005jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1600" height="1067"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d08399c7e80680e0a6006jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">A total of four dams were approved, their construction began in December 2019 and by July 2020 they were completed at Rs281.6 million. But even as they were under construction, locals and experts alike claimed that they were not strong enough to check the siltation.“The water flow is too strong and the dams are too shallow for them to be of much use,” says local resident Bishu Dahal. “But the project people didn’t even listen to the experts, so it has just been a waste of money.”<h2>How big is Phewa Lake? Depends whom you ask.</h2><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151116/636d083d9c7e80680e0a6007jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2600" height="1733"><figcaption>National and international surveyors have tried to calculate the exact area of Phewa Lake for the past 100 years, with different results.</figcaption></figure>Phewa Lake has a close to a century-long history of survey data from national and international experts to calculate its exact area:1924: British Survey of India 3.46 sq km1957: Survey of India 4.39 sq km1960: Nepal-India Support Mission 10.35 sq km1974: First Fort measurement 4.43 sq km1980: Nepal-UNDP Survey 5.80 sq km1994: IUCN Report 4.49 sq km2000: District Development Committee, Kaski 4.2. sq km2006: Pokhara Valley Urban Development Committee 5.03 sq km2011: Bishowoprakash Lamichanne Report 6.5 sq km2014: Ministry of Land Reform 5.07 sq km2020: Pokhara Metropolis 5.08 sq km2020: Gandaki Province Report 5.726 sq km

Pokhara’s shrinking Phewa Lake

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d06359c7e80680e0a5f4ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"/><figcaption>The Kosi Barrage on the Indian border where the river funnels out into the inland delta in Bihar.</figcaption></figure><ul><li>Three decades after it was first proposed, a 26.5km tunnel starts supplying water from Melamchi to Kathmandu.</li> <li>A <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/drones-to-the-rescue-in-melamchi/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/drones-to-the-rescue-in-melamchi/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEISH8LehEm5nAihrdyEOSDxSXsUg">deadly flood</a> on the Melamchi-Indrawati in Sindhupalchok on 16 June kills at least 27 people, and destroys infrastructure.</li> <li>The much-delayed 465MW Upper Tama Kosi hydropower plant starts feeding electricity to the national grid.</li> <li>SJVN says it has completed half the work on the 900MW Arun III project and the Investment Board awarded it another contract to develop the 679MW Lower Arun as well.</li> <li>Work has begun on the Sunkosi-Marin Diversion, to channel water to the Bagmati Basin and irrigate much of Province 2.</li></ul>All five events have one thing in common: they are all on the trans-boundary Kosi Basin that drains 75,000 sq km of territory in China, Nepal and India.Last week, I was standing on the Pati Bhanjyang ridgeline at the northeastern rim of Kathmandu Valley. Pour a glass of water on one side, and it flows westwards into the Gandaki River Basin. On the other side the streams drain into the Melamchi, which meets the Indrawati, then the Bhote Kosi to become the Sun Kosi that flows 200km eastward until it merges with the Arun and Tamor to form the Sapta Kosi.At that point, the river makes a tight turn south to tumble into the Kosi megafan in the Tarai and Bihar to finally to join the Ganga at Kursela. The Kosi, in fact, is the largest tributary of the Ganges, bigger than the Gandaki, Karnali, Jamuna, and even bigger than the Ganga itself as it debouches into the plains at Haridwar.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d06389c7e80680e0a5f4fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Kosi’s origin in Nepal is near Kathmandu. But it largest tributary, the Arun, originates in Tibet where it is called the Phung Chu, makes a mighty arc in Tibet and cuts through the Himalaya between Mt Makalu and Mt Kangchenjunga to meet its siblings Sun Kosi and Tamor at Tribeni.Geologists say rivers like the Arun that slice through the Himalaya are older than the mountains, and cut their way through as the terrain rose over millions of years with the collision of the India and Eurasian tectonic plates.The Kosi watershed therefore drains an enormous vertical landscape stretching from Mt Xixapangma which lies just 80km on the other side of the Himalaya in China, both sides of Mt Gauri Shankar (Chomo Tseringma), Mt Everest and Mt Makalu, as well as the western slopes of Kangchenjunga. Six of the world’s 13 peaks above 8,000m are therefore a part of the Kosi catchment.These mountains block the monsoons, and in eastern Nepal their southern slopes get more than 3,000mm of rain a year, weathering them down relentlessly, making the sedimentation load of the Kosi the heaviest for any river in the world.The topography of this mighty river has shaped Nepal’s history and culture, and can determine the country’s future prosperity as well. But only if we respect its geology, hydrology and the climate of its basin.Watershed expert Madhukar Upadhyay says, “We have not even begun to understand the hydrological and geological specificities of our mountains and rivers and yet are rushing headlong into ever-larger infrastructure development. Nepalis will still be here 500 years from now, what kind of country and landscape are we leaving behind for them?”Last month, landslides blocked the Melamchi-Indrawati, unleashing a deadly debris flow that destroyed infrastructure, homes and livelihoods. It imperilled <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/light-at-the-end-of-the-melamchi-tunnel/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/light-at-the-end-of-the-melamchi-tunnel/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEaXQ5HnjB92xgkbHBEnnbl5xiwow">the Melamchi project</a>, and its tunnel supplying water to Kathmandu was saved only because the gates were closed for maintenance just hours before the onrush.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d063c9c7e80680e0a5f50jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This week, the Upper Tama Kosi project started generating electricity, that will provide one-third of Nepal’s total power demand. But there was a scare just days before the inauguration: China informed Nepal that a massive landslide had blocked the river upstream, threatening the Rs55 billion project. Fortunately, the river found its way around the blockage. The near escapes of the Melamchi and Upper Tama Kosi sites make us take Upadhyay’s warnings seriously.Other <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/monsoon-hits-nepal-with-a-bang/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHkbbDluGypXbbgC1BQxVAVndFTvA">flash floods this year </a>in Manang, Kaski and Lamjung also showed that while our rivers hold great promise, we ignore the risk to settlements and major infrastructure along their banks. Our engineering methods have been inherited from the West, and do not account for cloudbursts and extreme Himalayan weather events. All these risks have been exacerbated by climate change.In Melamchi, the power of the flood last month is evident in the steel hulk of the Indrawati Bridge that lies crumpled in the muddy river 100m downstream amidst room-sized boulders. The new sand bank is 25m thick, indicating the flood’s maximum height.It is not clear what happened, for a bishyari or two (bursting of a landslide-damming of the river) would not be enough to generate such a massive debris flow. Some speculate there may have been centuries-old glacial deposits which suddenly got released through a combination of earthquake weakening and heavy rain.We also saw that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-the-deluge-in-nepal/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/after-the-deluge-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFAaYeK5lUf9eY4-j8mOHnFIUOT5A">Melamchi Bazar </a>had expanded into the river’s flood plain, with buildings in place of rice paddies, which added to the loss of life and property. Less than a month after the disaster excavators and tipper trucks are already on the Indrawati river bed, scooping up sand and boulders to feed Kathmandu Valley’s voracious appetite for construction material.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d06409c7e80680e0a5f51jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It is the Kosi’s Melamchi tributary that augments Kathmandu’s water supply, while the sand and boulders from the Indrawati, Sun Kosi, Bhote Kosi and Rosi fulfil the Valley’s demand for sand and aggregates.While earthquakes, floods and landslides are seen as ‘natural disasters’, and indeed they are to some extent, they become ‘man-made’ calamities with unregulated sand-mining of rivers, quarrying on steep slopes, and haphazard road-building.The highway along the Indrawati is crowded with sand-laden tipper trucks bound for Kathmandu. Downstream towards the Kosi Barrage along the BP Highway, the road follows the river past the site where a part of the Sun Kosi is to be channeled through a 13km tunnel to irrigate farmlands in the Tarai of Province 2. A similar inter-basin diversion scheme on the Kali Gandaki is now pitting Gandaki vs Lumbini Province, and the central government.We finally get to the new bridge across the Sapta Kosi at Chhatara, connecting Udayapur and Sunsari districts. This is exactly the point where, after its epic journey from the Tibetan Plateau and between the highest mountains in the world, this great river fans out into the plains.https://youtu.be/34lmOgPv-zkNorth of the bridge is the site of the proposed mammoth <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2413#.YOQRoi8RoWo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D2413%23.YOQRoi8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF86VG9E0i8u5OqfG5NvKJKILpBEA">Kosi High Dam</a>. The 300m high dam will create a reservoir submerging huge tracts of the Sun Kosi, Arun and Tamor Valleys in a kind of ‘trishul’. India needs the dam for flood control, and to facilitate inland navigation by storing monsoon water and discharging it in the dry season. But there are many questions regarding the proposed mega project.To begin with, the high silt load means that a future Kosi Reservoir would soon fill up with sediment. There are alternatives to dams: people in the Kosi plains have learnt to live with annual floods which deposit valuable soil nutrients, and diverting water through earlier river channels would ease flood impact.The village of Hanuman Nagar had to be relocated because of the barrage, and 60 years later some of its families and those further upstream have still not got compensated. The barrage also destroyed an important wetland, and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-great-trans-himalayan-bird-migration/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFOCjdWAUhLv8LM1mLEnBNbFZeVHQ">migratory birds </a>now alight in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15974#.YOQSqy8RoWo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D15974%23.YOQSqy8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNH9ndET9JXr1SU0_SRmfnAXaLeZ5A">Kosi Tappu Wildlife Reserve</a> instead.Extending the reserve further north and south could increase the habitat of endangered arna, wild elephants and freshwater dolphins, encourage ecotourism, and provide income to villagers whose grandparents had to move.The 60-year-old embankments that jacket the Kosi upstream and downstream from the Barrage have created the potential for a massive future disaster, an inland tsunami. Because of the river’s heavy silt content, the Kosi now flows on a deck 3-4m above the surrounding land. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15163#.YOQR6y8RoWo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D15163%23.YOQR6y8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNELQRpfAALk_H4uMYlUohTJDiWrQg">In 2008, the Kosi breached the eastern embankment </a>at Kusaha, causing <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15193#.YOQTGy8RoWo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D15193%23.YOQTGy8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGQbFvez-8I6Bv7_rYVwfQpczaNAg">destruction </a>downstream in Sunsari and Bihar. And that was when the river was not even in spate.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111015118/636d06439c7e80680e0a5f52jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1080"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>With extreme weather caused by climate change, or a confluence of cloud-bursts in the mountain catchment, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3526#.YOQSOy8RoWo" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D3526%23.YOQSOy8RoWo&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1625725666191000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEvH8AZlBKUPb68a4OulBhpsm0Q2w">a record-breaking flood in future</a> could cause an engorged Kosi to bypass the barrage altogether and unleash a catastrophic flood downstream.The Kosi Barrage was meant to be a temporary solution, and the Kosi High Dam was always in the minds of the Indian authorities. There is a need for transparent and independent study by water experts, social scientists and technocrats to study the pros and cons of the Kosi High Dam.Siltation, seismicity, adaptation and mitigation, all need to be factored in with projected future climate impact. Meanwhile, across the world, ecologists are warning that the price to pay for large dams is too great because of the destruction of river ecosystems.A massive rockfill dam on a seismically active zone, the geopolitical implications as well as the social and environmental costs may outweigh the planned benefits. To make up for the mistake of the Kosi Barrage, we may be making an even greater blunder with the Kosi High Dam.

The Kosi’s sorrow, and scope

International Mountain Day on 11 December should inspire celebration, not cynicism. It follows &nbsp;a small but rare diplomatic win: the agreement at COP30 in Belém to hold a dedicated global dialogue on mountains in 2026, and to include mountain-specific indicators in the new climate adaptation framework.&nbsp;
A welcome shift, certainly. But the old narrative lingers — mountains are fragile, disaster-prone, eternally vulnerable. But the uncomfortable truth is that safe and environment-friendly development in the mountains is simply too expensive than anyone wants to admit.
To build a kilometre of two-lane highway in the Tarai costs Rs200 million. That same kilometre on a Himalayan slope with retaining walls, drainage, bioengineering, and landslide protection costs more than Rs1 billion. Add tunnels, viaducts or highways designed for minimum 80km/h speeds and that figure can easily triple.
This pattern repeats across all sectors. A 50MW run-of-river hydropower plant that costs $80 million in low-ling valleys costs four times more in the mountains. The headrace tunnels have to be longer, desanding basins must trap the silt, the access roads cost more than the entire project. And there is no way to prevent the scheme from being washed away by a glacial collapse flood.
Nepal's annual road budget is only Rs150 billion. It is scattered thinly across 753 municipalities, most of them perched on steep, unstable slopes. When resources are inadequate and political cycles are short, the incentives for corruption are predictable &nbsp;— shaving a mountain flank at 70 degrees instead of 45, taking a shortcut on drainage canals, skimping on asphalt thickness, or skipping the Gabion.
In high Nepal, the bulldozer is the engineer. We hang on the prayer that the monsoon will be merciful. July arrives, and reality returns. Mountains fall on roads, flash floods wash away swathes of expensive highways.
The entrance to the Siddhababa Tunnel in Palpa collapses yet again. The Nagdhunga Tunnel faces another landslide delay. The Melamchi headworks go under — again. Each failure costs more to repair than proper engineering would have cost when that infrastructure was built.
We are not just paying once. We the taxpayers are signing up for a subscription to disaster. The real fragility of Nepal’s mountains is of governance, not geology.
This is what the international climate conversation habitually misses. Mountain communities are repeatedly told to ‘respect nature’ and avoid linear infrastructure, often by the same countries proudly announcing new expressways and airports in their own countries.
Mountain people are not anti-development. They want what everyone else wants: electricity that does not flicker, roads that survive the monsoon, schools their children can reach in winter. What they lack is not aspiration, it is the budget required to build things safely that is not stolen by politicians and their crony contractors.
If the world truly wants to protect the Himalaya, Andes or Alps, and the billions who rely on them for water, the answer is not more romantic slogans about fragility of the mountains. It is concessional, patient financing that narrows the gap between cheap and dangerous versus expensive and resilient. And it is transparent government that spends that money wisely.
This means money for tunnels instead of unstable surface cuts. Money for bioengineered slopes instead of naked bulldozer scars. Money for hydropower built for 1-in-100-year floods, not 1-in-25-year budgets.&nbsp;
This is not charity. Mountain infrastructure safeguards global water, carbon, energy and biodiversity systems. It is a global public good, and should be financed as such.&nbsp;
In Syangja, small investments under the Climate Adaptive Equitable Water Management Practices have restored nine community ponds, protected recharge zones and increased dry-season spring flow by about a third. All of this for less than the cost of repairing a single kilometre of poorly built hillside road after the next landslide.
Our experience from the Subnational Governance Programme (SNGP) in some districts of mountains and plains show that when municipalities receive practical guidance backed by scientific research, they can scale these solutions with modest, targeted budgets. Local governments are not the problem — they are the missing link. &nbsp;
The tragedy is not technical incapacity; it is chronic under-financing of the most cost-intensive terrain on earth. Lets stop romanticising mountain poverty on 11 December, International Mountain Day. Let us retire the language of fragility that excuses inaction.
Mountains are not pleading for sympathy. They are demanding fairness: that the true cost of safe development in the world’s steepest geographies be acknowledged and shared. Until that bill is paid, the monsoon will continue to do the accounting, one landslide, one road, one abandoned promise at a time.
Ngamindra Dahal is a water and climate adaptation practitioner based at the Nepal Water Conservation Foundation, Kathmandu.

The Himalaya is not fragile

This is the 76th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. We did not have a whole lot, but did not grow up in scarcity either. When I was in Grade 7, my father migrated to Malaysia but returned just after 18 days and was heavily in debt. It is the interest and not the principal from loan sharks that ruins borrowers. As we grew up, family expenses rose and my father migrated again to Qatar, determined to make it work this time. I used to watch him via IMO in buildings under construction eating rice out of plastic bags. There was no AC, no oven, no shade. Those images are etched into my memory.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251208081244_3f46ccdd1fab8f85ccce9fc8bec677cb7466a1b9556f36d0f92d19c6478369b6" data-rendition-name="original" width="600" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Family picture from 2014 sent to Anil's father who was working in Qatar.</figcaption> </figure>  After Grade 10, I was encouraged to take up computers in +2 as I was a bright student. I did not have access to a computer, and the 30 minutes we got weekly at the computer lab was just not enough. My parents could not afford to buy a computer, but a friend had both a desktop and laptop at home.&nbsp; I did his homework in exchange for using his computer. When my father in Qatar, found out he bought me a laptop. Today, a decade later, I am still using it. Maybe I valued the computer more because it was bought with my father’s sweat. The laptop reminds me of how he toiled overseas.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251208081240_2b3dc0b903d0b01caf875b5f50c22053aa28097b405cf14f36c6324a93f5dfef" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil still uses the laptop his father bought him ten years ago.</figcaption> </figure>  The money he sent home did help with household expenses. My mother did tailoring, although the income was not stable. After my father returned from Qatar, we he bought a three-wheeler which he still uses in Makwanpur. After completing Grade 12, I came to college in Kathmandu to study IT. It cost Rs20,000 a month in tuition, rent and food just to survive. I could not complete my bachelor’s. Although my father kept saying, “Don’t worry, I am here,” he just did not have the money to pay for me. So, I took up a data entry job which helped cover living expenses. The pandemic meant my father could not earn money from his auto-rickshaw. We had no savings and had outstanding loans. Migration was the only way to get us out of the rut. I told my father that both of us should go abroad to earn some money. He could return earlier and I would stay on.&nbsp; My father agreed, and I visited recruiting agencies with both our passports. After reviewing our CVs, they said it was easy to find jobs for my father but not for me, given my educational background and my experience in software. “How can we send you for jobs as a cleaner or security guard?” they asked. I finally found a job in Romania, and decided to have my father stay back because going to Europe would have doubled the cost. My mother and sister came to see me off at Kathmandu airport. It felt just like my father leaving for Qatar many years ago. Perhaps some day, my brother would also leave in a similar manner, I thought.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251208081240_c1a00b70223f048e994e1cab7c0e6cd6944c4a2f3f7740b0a8e76921da9d23f0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's sister hugging him at the airport before he left for Romania.</figcaption> </figure>  In Romania, I work in a factory making car seat belts. It is not physically demanding and it is indoors. Even though I did not share it with my family, the initial period was difficult as I had no experience standing and working for so many hours at a time. Once, when I was tired at work, I wondered how my father managed in Qatar in a much more physically taxing job. Here I was not carrying heavy loads, my work was not outdoors. I was so emotional, I wrote a ghazal in my head. The words “खाडीको तातो घाम” kept repeating in my head. After work, I jotted down the verse in my diary:&nbsp; बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot become like you कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot imagine how hard it is म मान्छे हेर्दा मात्रै ठूलो I only look like a grown man बानी अझै बच्चै छ But I am still childish किनकि जता त्यतै जान मन लाग्छ I feel like roaming around जे देख्यो त्यो खान मन लाग्छ Eat whatever I see. न पैसा बच्छ I cannot save. न खाएको कुरा सबै पच्छ The food doesn’t agree with me&nbsp; कहिले काहीँ त मलाई म्याकडोनाल्डको बर्गर पनि पच्दैन Not even a burger at McDonalds तर प्लास्टिकमा पोको परेको त्यो चिसो भात But how did my father eat that cold rice खाडीको त्यो तातो घाममा सेक्दै खाँदा मेरो बुवालाई कसरी पच्छ? Under the hot Gulf sun? मेरो पेटले यस्तो पचाउन सक्दै सक्दैन I would not be able to eat that. बुवा, तपाई जस्तो बन्न म सक्दै सक्दिनँ Father, I cannot be like you. कति गाह्रो छ, म भन्नै सक्दिनँ I cannot say how difficult it is.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251208081240_51eb68a130750f1c79ab1046406a5b940c780ebd87cfff5ff6861d3287bd69c0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil Gole's diary entry of his ghazal compares his migration with his father’s journey.</figcaption> </figure>  I posted it online, and it went viral. But more importantly, people found the words relatable and engaging. My sister first saw it on Tiktok and shared it with my mother. It moved them to tears while my father kept watching it on repeat, deep in thought. Even though my birth father decided to leave my mother when I was less than a year old, my step father never made me feel the absence of anything. My friend from Grade 6 in Makwanpur, Sharan, introduced me to ghazal. He was six years older because he had to pause his studies during the Maoist conflict. He worked in a brick factory in Kathmandu, saved money, and returned to school. He was very talented and we became friends through the school children’s club.&nbsp; Sharan and I spent most of our time together, sharing meals to save money and even skipping classes. One day, in Grade 9 when our teacher was absent, he wrote a ghazal on the spot and explained the form, the rhyme, the meter. I listened half-heartedly as it was not of interest. We left it at that. Shortly after, Sharan was diagnosed with leukemia and he could not finish exam. Because he was a sharp student, the teachers decided to not hold him back. He died just before Grade 10. I cried. I do not have any pictures of Sharan. He had small ears, and I used to tease him that people with small ears do not live long. That still haunts me. <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 56vh;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 177.7778%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutube.com%2Fshorts%2FLpizGQWTbMs%3Ffeature%3Dshare&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> At the school assembly at the start of the new year, we were asked to share a talent. I did not know what to do, but I wrote a ghazal just as Sharan had taught me and dedicated it to him. Halfway through, I started crying and the principal took me to his office and calmed me down.&nbsp; I do not write much poetry except a few posts on social media here and there. But a video of me reciting went viral on TikTok and that encouraged me to write more. That made me feel validated, and I began writing more about real life experiences. It has been three years in Romania. My brother will also be joining me soon. Things have improved for us financially, but we are not where we want to be. We will get there. When we do, I will resume my studies. I’m interested in programming, especially back-end development and working with databases. It is on hold right now.&nbsp; I do not have big dreams, I just want to make sure my parents get what they deserve. It is okay if I get delayed if my parents are able to access what they had scarified for us when they were of my age. For now, my family is my priority.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251208081240_9e8d3cad3b505d3ec5adcea94ed05b2ea9de1d2cd8507335eec86c2659a11b34" data-rendition-name="original" width="2016" height="1512" loading="lazy" alt="Diaspora Diaries 76"> <figcaption>Anil's family.</figcaption> </figure>

My father’s son

Singha Bahadur Lama worked for six years in Malaysia, but back home in Nepal he is now earning more than he ever did overseas. Here in his village 60km east of Kathmandu, Lama now harvests Buddhachitta seeds from sacred trees that grow in the mountains, and turns them into prayer bead necklaces revered in Tibetan Buddhism. The Buddhachitta tree (Ziziphus budhensis) is indigenous to Nepal and grows in the mountains of Kavre district, and demand boomed after the Dalai Lama proclaimed that the seeds found in Nepal were the best. People from Kavre had gone to Bodh Gaya 12 years ago and presented the Dalai Lama with Buddhachitta prayer beads. Not long after, while speaking in Taiwan the Dalai Lama told followers that the seeds from Nepal had special powers.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251209141220_dd1fddffc2f22652f57b0fdebe5d0612aa48c79c1e5c1a82da10b1d0a0af69b8" data-rendition-name="original" width="737" height="536" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama shows a visiting journalist different types of Buddhachitta seeds. Single-faced beads are the rarest and most valuable, as are the smallest 8mm beads. A prayer necklace made of 108 beads would easily cost Rs1.5 million (over $10,630). “We cannot say if our trees will give smaller beads or even how many faces or clear eyes, it’s all natural,” says Lama, who now works as a consultant, advising people all over Nepal about planting the tree, and has since spread it across the country. Four years ago, a Chinese middleman made 7mm plastic cups to cover the seeds, hoping the trees would produce smaller pods. It did not work, and the trees died. Such is the demand for high-quality Buddhachitta beads that a group of 20 men employed by a Chinese dealer cut down a tree along the Rosi River last year. The harvest from that tree had made $212,600 the year before. With that kind of price, the trees are in danger of being chopped down. &nbsp; Lama himself used to make Rs10 million ($70,880) from the seeds of each tree. With this money, he built new houses and sent his daughter to Japan, all with Buddhachitta income. But the market for the seeds is volatile.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251209141224_0fd29cdc36db0c3ad5f5add513b8b220d0101760e1c42d5c54266eac7c2dfe75" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> </figure>  Lama invested Rs10 million when prices were high ten years ago, but he lost most of that when the prices collapsed for bigger seeds.&nbsp; He adds: “That year the demand was only for small seeds, and it has only been three years since the prices have risen again for seeds that make no sound when you shake them.”&nbsp; HISTORY Legend has it that Guru Rinpoche left seeds of Buddhachitta while meditating in the Temal region of Kavre district in the 8th century as a blessing. He is known in the Himalaya as the ‘Second Buddha’ whose birth was foretold by the Buddha himself, and spread Buddhism in Tibet. Now, almost every household from the Tamang community here has on average 50 trees. The tree thrives on gravel and sandy soil, needs to be protected from excess water, and can grow up to 10 meters high. It starts bearing fruit annually from its third year and one tree lives for 90 years. The fruits are handpicked every June and July, and then have to be processed by boiling the seeds to remove their hard outer skin. The seeds are then dried in the sun for a few days.&nbsp; “Our families have been growing Buddhachitta for generations, but it started becoming hugely profitable only about 12 years ago, it has become a cash crop and has even replaced staples like maize,” says Dev Lama, 55.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251209141224_7820e90f918489045c0668465190df37120167cc7d4401bb128adf931e156bc3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Dev Lama</figcaption> </figure>  What helps is that Buddhachitta is not a high-maintenance crop, it just needs some weeding, watering, and protection from hailstorms and pesticides. Once it matures, it does not need much care, and farmers intercrop it with other grain.&nbsp; “You don’t have to work on it every year like maize, which needs to be planted year after year,” explains Shova Shrestha, 33. “We also continue to grow other vegetables and spices, all of which help to preserve soil nutrients.” Generally, farmers do not sell directly to Chinese traders but deal with local middlemen who take a cut before they take it to the Chinese traders who lodge in Kathmandu during the harvest season. But the bulk of the profit is made by Chinese wholesalers across the border. &nbsp; And now with the proliferation of the plant, and with nearly every family growing several trees, farmers sometimes struggle to find buyers and are often severely short-changed, as was the case with Maiya Tamang’s family.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251209141220_2d82949a8a32b272216e4f288e976c5af68abf65f52500947ba366526a9b2a2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Buddhachitta NT"> <figcaption>Maiya Tamang</figcaption> </figure>  “I wasn’t home that day two years ago, but my sons later told me that my husband sold an entire tree for just Rs1,500,” recalls Tamang, 60. “We asked him why he sold it for a price that wouldn’t even buy a sack of rice, and he just shrugged.” Tamang did make a profit two years ago, but last year’s crop was destroyed by a hailstorm. Despite this, the bead business has augmented the income of a family dependent on subsistence agriculture. &nbsp; A neighbour, Sonam Tamang, had a few Buddhachitta trees in his backyard and has bought saplings from a nursery to expand. Saplings cost Rs500, but it is double that for plants that give high value seeds. Says Sonam Tamang: “The middlemen sometimes cheat us by offering much less than the seeds are worth, and they don’t allow us to speak directly with the Chinese buyers. But even if we did, there would be a language barrier.” Meanwhile, Singha Bahadur Lama who started out as a Buddhachitta farmer now owns a nursery and is a dealer in saplings himself. Some Nepalis have tried to sell directly in China, but face added costs of travel and hotel while there. &nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.

Sacred seed feeds boom

Dimar Chaudhary was born and raised in Old Padampur, the village inside what is now Chitwan National Park before it was dsignated a protected area. His Tharu community, as well as other indigenous groups, traditionally relied on Chitwan’s jungles and rivers for generations. Chaudhary himself had grown up collecting medicinal plants and wild vegetables, gathering wood, and grazing cattle in the forest. Chitwan, along with much of Nepal’s Tarai, was plagued by malaria until a US-supported DDT spraying campaign to wipe out the disease in the district in the 1950s. This opened the valley up to trans-migration of farmers from the hills. Before that, Chitwan was inhabited entirely by indigenous people: 90% of the district’s population was Tharu, and the rest were Bote, Mushar, Darai and Majhi communities. In 1973 Chitwan National Park became Nepal's first protected area and in 1996, the Nepal 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. Old Padampur was subsequently relocated outside the park. Ntional parks formed buffer zone user committees (BZUCs) to manage and oversee community forests. Hundreds of thousands of local people were directly involved in managing buffer zone community forests across the country. Over three decades, these forests have not only made conservation collaborative, but also helped to mitigate wildlife-related crimes and human wildlife conflict. In 2014, 2015 and 2016, Nepal achieved zero poaching for its three flagship species: rhinos, tigers and elephants. But while these user communities have made wildlife conservation participatory, the process hasn’t been inclusive of Nepal’s indigenous and underserved communities. In 2022, WWF supported Community Conservation Nepal to collect data on natural resources used by Tharu indigenous people before the establishment of Chitwan National Park. The project also looked into the inclusion of indigenous, women, Dalit and disabled communities in the Baghauda, Paachpandav, Meghauli, Mrigakunja, and Amaltari Buffer Zone User Committees (BZUC) as well as the Someshwor, Gardi Chure, Radha Krishna, and Baghmara Buffer Zone Community Forests (BZCF).  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251210141228_83a5b021c62b6c4a67888e5eee85d3fdcba3fd34d00e581996213d1ae10d6977" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="941" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC map"></figure>  BARRIERS TO INCLUSION The survey found that women are underrepresented in all the BZUCs despite women user groups being larger. Nepal’s Buffer Zone laws dictate that each BZUC has 13 members. Each BZUC is made up of nine units, and as many representatives are elected from those units. The elected members have the authority to choose the remaining four members. This meant that indigenous peoples, marginalised groups, and women have a far lower chance of being elected. Indeed, out of the total members, Paachpandav and Mrigakunja BCUZs had four women, Meghauli had three women, and Baghauda had only one woman, whereas Amaltari user committee had no woman member. In contrast, the BZCF are relatively more inclusive of women, with two out of four surveyed BZCF comprising half women members. Additionally, some grassroots user committees are made up entirely of women. Most women members of the user committees are not appointed through elections, but chosen by elected male members, and are not given positions of leadership. “Women have been the ones protecting the forests ever since the concept of forest conservation initially emerged,” one female participant told us during a focus group discussion. People would get angry when the women stopped them from cutting down trees and grass, and grazing cattle in the jungles, she recalled, adding, “We were dedicated to the user committees. However, we are no longer involved in the committees, nor are we invited to meetings.” When asked about the absence of women in the user committees, one BZUC chairperson responded, “There are only men here because they won the election. Women are unwilling to run for the election. How will they fit into the committee if no woman has ever run for election?” However, not only are women deprived of the chance to contest elections, the chances of them winning polls are also very low because a majority of the positions in the committee will already have been allocated by political parties to their male cadres. Women from marginalised communities face further hurdles.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251210141228_7ee7dc43b925b4d6e97bfdc5a02df85d4d828e8a82eb00d3086217baf2438b43" data-rendition-name="original" width="959" height="508" loading="lazy" alt="BZUC "></figure>  “No male member from the Musahar community has been elected in the user community, if they had, they could have suggested that women from our community be included in the committee as well,” said a female participant from the Musahar community. While the native Musahar and Bote people lack representation in the BZUC, indigenous people did make up the majority of the members in the committees, while Dalit members were included in some collectives. However, only one committee is led by an indigenous person. The others are chaired by upper-caste hill migrants. In addition, no committee had any representative with disabilities. One of the key reasons for the under-representation of marginalised communities in Nepal’s BZUC is its non-inclusive policy. When Nepal’s Constitution was promulgated in 2015, residents living in proximity to protected areas across Nepal had hoped that policies relating to buffer zones and their governance would be reformed to reflect Nepal’s new socio-political reality. But this has not been the case. However, this has not discouraged indigenous Nepalis, who have continued to demand buffer zone policy reforms that ensure the inclusion of women, indigenous and marginalised communities. In addition to policy revision, it is necessary to reform the buffer zone election so that it is more participatory for underserved communities. Reforms should also regulate the number of members in a user group. Similarly, the budget allocated for buffer zones must be used on activities that benefit conservation instead of local infrastructure development. Women, people with disabilities, indigenous and marginalised communities should be the primary beneficiaries of budget dispensation. Crop damage compensation, which currently is Rs10,000, can be increased by five times to Rs50,000. Policy revisions should ultimately guarantee the rights of indigenous communities like the Sonaha, Bote and Musahar to practice their culture and traditional livelihoods and receive a formal education. Buffer Zone User Committees must apply indigenous conservation practices for park management. Birendra Mahato is an elected member of the Ratnanagar Municipality Ward 6 and Founder Chair of the Tharu Culture Museum Research Centre in Sauraha.

dams