If it is October, it must be Dasain in Kathmandu. And it must be time for Surya Nepal Jazzmandu. This year, the 17th edition of the Kathmandu Jazz Festival returns with artists from all over the globe performing in the city.International bands like Tropic Green, RSxT, Adrian Crookston &amp; Palouse Forro, Paul Tynan &amp; Jake Hanlon and Faby Medina, as well as The Blue Fret, Cadenza Collective and Jooni from Nepal will be performing from 17-23 October in different venues in Kathmandu Valley.Jazz has come a long way from the African American communities on the cobbled streets of New Orleans in the late 19th century to different corners of the globe. It has evolved into latin jazz, gypsy jazz, Afro-Cuban jazz, and even Nepali jazz. But even though the blues and swing-inspired art form has branched out, improvisation -- the essence of jazz -- is still its heart and soul. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-and-all-that-jazz/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu, and all that jazz …</a>, Sewa Bhattarai“In Nepal, jazz has influenced and inspired lot of Nepalis into listening, learning and playing jazz. Surya Nepal Jazzmandu has promoted jazz in Nepal and has brought renowned world class musicians to audiences in Kathmandu” says Samir Chettri, an organiser of the festival and band member of Cadenza Collective.The Collective with its eclectic Afro-Funk tunes, Nepali lyrics and jazz undertones have defined the diverse identity of Nepali jazz since its inception almost two decades ago. With the bass, keyboard, bansuri and sarangi. The Blue Fret band has also created its own jazz sound, combining the swing and blues roots of jazz with the traditional spin of Nepali instruments.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/jazzing-up-in-kathmandu,3316" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jazz it up in 'Mandu</a>, Sahina ShresthaJooni, a quintet composed of artists from Nepal and around the world, embodies the sound of modern jazz and traditional Nepali music, giving life to a diversity of sounds and rhythms. The variety of international and national artists this year will add music to the streets and halls of Kathmandu between the holidays, sprinkling their melodious magic.Says Chettri: “Having musicians from different parts of the world brings cultural interaction and diversity. The fusion of Nepali classical music with jazz has also been one of the biggest highlights of the festival. The festival itself is a very inspiring and unique experience for visiting artists, Nepali musicians as well as the audience.” Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/sounds-of-west-africa-julia-sarr-quartet,3977" target="_blank" rel="noopener">West African Soul</a> <h2>Paul Tynan and Jake Hanlon, Canada</h2> Trumpeter Paul Tynan and guitarist Jake Hanlon are a dynamic jazz duo from Canada. Having played together for more than 10 years, they have developed a rare musical chemistry that is ever present through their fluid improvisations during performances.“Improvisation is the heart and soul of jazz. It’s where the art lives in jazz music.  As a jazz musician improvisation means creating new music in the moment while being mindful of the surrounding sonic environment and what the other musicians are contributing to that by reacting and interacting. It’s a lot like a deep verbal conversation in many ways.”   <img width="500" height="419" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f2b9c7e80680e056e0ejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><h2>Faby Medina, France</h2> <img width="500" height="419" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f2d9c7e80680e056e0fjpeg.jpg" alt="">Faby Medina is a captivating singer-songwriter who released her debut album Following Love in 2017.Her songs are deeply personal, upbeat, occasionally influenced by her Caribbean background and touched with soul, swing and pop. She will be backed by Frank Herrgott (keyboard), Bruno Schorp (bass) and Julie Saury (drums).“Ella Fitzgerald! The first time I heard her voice, I was in shock. Her swing, her scat, her humour, her joy! I just fell in love! My Caribbean roots has also influenced my sound. It helps me to sing with my body. My parents come from Guadeloupe and it’s very important to dance out there! Everyone is comfortable with their body.” <h2>The Blue Fret</h2> Led by the musical Suman Thapa, this Nepali band combines the traditional sound of the bansuri and sarangi with western tones and both English and Nepali lyrics. Its much anticipated debut album Jiri Blues was released in 2018.“When music came through, it was hard to separate the western and eastern style, and the genres we experimented with. But the music incorporated all the elements and it worked. The versatility of the musicians, and the open mindedness to play what feels and sounds good has been crucial to executing this.” <img width="500" height="419" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f2f9c7e80680e056e10jpeg.jpg" alt=""><h2>Jooni Collective</h2> <img width="500" height="419" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f319c7e80680e056e11jpeg.jpg" alt="">Jooni Collective is the musical project of pianist and composer Abhisek Bhadra and vocalist Maria Fajardo. Now a quintet with Alessio Cazzetta on the guitar, Rajat Rai on the bass and Kiran Shahi on the drums, its music is a reflection of the diverse backgrounds and experiences of members.“Nepali music is a very rich tradition with a lot of variations. But the reason why most traditional Nepali music forms, specially Nepali classical music and jazz does work well together is that both forms of music are deeply rooted within the concept of Improvisation. Same is the case for jazz and most folk traditions. Whether or not it blends seamless together or not simply relies on the artist’s intentions and methods to achieve it.” <h2>Adrian Crookston &amp; Palouse Forro, USA</h2> Palouse Forró’s music isn’t exactly ‘jazz’. Forró is a genre, dance, rhythm, that originates in the northeast of Brazil. The sound is inspired by the language of jazz and improvisation through the percussion and accordion. Much of its style is influenced by premier jazz accordion players like Dominguinhos and Sivuca who got their start with Forró.“For me, Jazz is an incredible innovation and gift given to the world primarily by Black Americans. Now, people all over the world are innovating in Jazz, it’s happening right here right now in Kathmandu and has been for a while by Nepalis too!” <img width="500" height="419" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f329c7e80680e056e12jpeg.jpg" alt=""><h2>Tropic Green, Singapore</h2> <img width="1400" height="788" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f349c7e80680e056e13jpeg.jpg" alt="">Tropic Green is an 8 piece jazz band based in Singapore and composed of musicians from Singapore, Venezuela, USA and Cuba. Its music is composed and arranged by pianist Susan Harmer. According to Harmer, 5 horns give the band its unique sound, adding harmonic and textural richness to their music.“Jazz musicians are unashamed borrowers -- there is no single element that is uniquely jazz. Jazz borrows harmonies, rhythms and the element of improvisation from all global genres. It is this universal richness, where no single performance of a tune is alike that is recognized as being jazz.” <h2>Eastern Classical</h2> <img width="1400" height="417" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f379c7e80680e056e14jpeg.jpg" alt="">Vocalist Manmohan Thapaliya Sharma has performed across Nepal and India and has recorded two albums Kahile Gham Kahile Chayaand Shanti Sutra. Flautist Dhan Bahadur Gurung honed his skills in a workshop with the legendary Hariprasad Chaurasia, and received accolades for his work. Gandharva, a travelling traditional Nepali band, has taken its music across the villages of Nepal, keeping folk music alive with classic medleys and local instruments. The late Rabindra Lal Shrestha was a maestro of classical Nepali music. His compositions, teachings and tabla-playing skills have left a lasting impression on younger musicians. His son Bijay Shrestha is performing at Surya Nepal Jazzmandu to pay tribute to his father who remains an inspiration to a new generation of tabla players.“Our classical Nepali music and traditional songs are a part of our identity, history and culture. It is our duty to preserve it. But it can only be preserved and promoted through the collaborative efforts of the government, media, fine arts education and programs like Jazzmandu.”  <h2>Cadenza Collective</h2> <img width="1400" height="707" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f399c7e80680e056e15jpeg.jpg" alt="">Cadenza Collective, Nepal’s first jazz band, seamlessly blends Jazz, Afro-funk and Nepali folk music with an eclectic, energetic sound. It not only pioneered jazz in Nepal but also experimented with it to create a completely unique form of jazz.“Jazz has got better and has come a long way in Nepal, it has become a household word alongside other music genres. Besides guitar, bass, keyboard and drums, we have young musicians picking up horns (trombone, trumpet, and saxophone etc.) and quite a few jazz bands in the scene. It's looking good but we got to keep on pushing further <h2>RSxT, Germany</h2> <img width="1400" height="787" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141152/636a5f3c9c7e80680e056e16jpeg.jpg" alt="">RSxT breaks through genre barriers by seamlessly blending jazz, electronic music, soul, pop and hip-hop. The ‘x’ in RSxT (Roman Schuler X Trio) stands for ‘unknown and the extraordinary’ and ‘for the crossing of Boundaries and directions’. As it constantly remixes its own music, you will never truly know what to expect but you can always look forward to an exciting and dynamic performance.“Jazz for us is not only a genre, but more the permission to be free while expressing ourselves. I love combining the lyrical power of the piano with grooving beats. Hip Hop, Soul and Electronic are styles that have this groove, and also have the space for keyboard sounds of all kinds. I love all this styles and that is why I want to play them, bring them together and mix genres. I'm not afraid to break boundaries.”“Although we are all educated jazz musicians, Jazz for us is not only a genre, but more the permission to be free while expressing ourselves. I love combining the lyrical power of the piano with grooving beats. Hip Hop, Soul and Electronic are styles that have this groove, and also have the space for keyboard sounds of all kinds. To most simply answer is: I love all this styles and that’s why I want to play them, bring them together and mix genres. I'm not afraid to break boundaries.” <h2>Surya Nepal Jazzmandu 2019</h2> CONCERT FOR YOUNG STUDENTS12-1:30pm, 17 October Alliance Française, Jhamsikhel By invitation only Jazzmandu kicks off with a free concert playing great music for young minds. The Concert for School Students continues Jazzmandu’s long tradition of promoting music education and cross-cultural understanding. Interested schools and individual students can request invitations by writing to info@jazzmandu.org. Seating is limited. Gates open at 11.30 am, please be seated by 11.50 am. GROOVIN AT UPSTAIRS7-9pm, 17 October Jazz Upstairs, Lazimpat Ticket: Rs600Cadenza Collective gather new and old friends for an explosive jam at the heart of Jazz in Nepal, Jazz Upstairs! Gates open at 6 pm. Seating is limited. VALLEY JAMS7-9pm, 18 October Ticket: Rs600Moksh, Jhamsikhel – Tropic Green  Jazz Upstairs, Lazimpat – Paul Tynan &amp; Jake Hanlon / Palouse Forro  House of Music, Thamel – RSxT  Manny’s Eatery and Tapas Bar, Jawalakhel – Faby Medina Gates open at 6 pm and close at 7 pm. Seating is limited. JAZZ BAZAAR2:30-10pm, 19 October Gokarna Forest Resort Ticket: Rs1400Get away from the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu and be surrounded by the lush, serene Gokarna Forest Resort and great music. Gates open at 1.30 pm and close at 7 pm. Seating is limited. A ticket does not guarantee a seat. No outside food or beverages allowed. No pets allowed. Free shuttle buses to Gokarna will depart every hour from 1 pm to 4 pm from outside Hotel Marco Polo in Kamal Pokhari, and will stop for pick-ups outside the Hyatt Regency gate in Boudha. Return shuttles will be available between 10 pm and 11 pm, with drop-offs at Boudha and Kamal Pokhari. SOUNDS OF LATIN JAZZ7-9pm, 20 October Dhokaima, Patan Ticket: Rs1600Experience the sounds of authentic Afro-Caribbean and Brazilian Jazz. Gates open at 6 pm and close at 8 pm. Seating is limited. JAZZMANDU MASTERCLASSES11am-1:30pm, 22 October Kathmandu Jazz Conservatory, Jhamsikhel  –Vocal &amp; Instrumental Workshops Free Entry The Jazzmandu master classes are an opportunity for music students &amp; jazz enthusiasts to interact with visiting musicians, share their experiences and stories and learn techniques and tips on various instruments and vocals. Seating is limited and not guaranteed. JAZZ AT THE TEMPLE HOUSE6:30-8:30pm, 22 October Kantipur Temple House, Thamel Ticket: Rs1600An evening of Nepali classical music fused with Jazz in a rich and soulful ambience. International musicians share their musical ideas and energies with Nepal’s top classical musicians and Cadenza Collective at the fabulous Kantipur Temple House. Gates open at 5.30 pm and close at 7pm. Please be seated by 5.45 pm. Seating is limited. JAZZMANDU FINALE5:30-10pm, 23 October Hotel Yak &amp; Yeti, Durbar Marg Ticket: Rs1400The Finale BIG JAM! Musicians from different bands come together on one stage to light up the festivities creating a high-energy, improvised musical treat. Gates open at 4.30 pm and close at 8pm. Seating is limited.

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Jazz returns to the 'Mandu

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a57049c7e80680e0547b9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4032" height="3024"/><figcaption>The Druk Air fleet at home in Paro airport</figcaption></figure>Our flight arrived 45 minutes early. "Only in Bhutan, never in Nepal," grinned a retired army general shouldering his golf clubs and duty free at Kathmandu airport, heading for a weekend on the golf course.On landing in the unique traditional Paro airport, the mountain air fizzed and buzzed with excited tourists snapping selfies and Bhutanese rejoicing on return. Having admired the white Himalayan giants from afar, passengers shared palpable relief at the safe descent with farmhouses, fields and rocky crags flashing by just beyond our wingtips.The Druk Air dragons coil confidently on the orange yellow aircraft tails, and helpful women in colourful kira stamp us into the country from behind fragrant wood desks. Outside, men dressed in gho and knee socks take trouble to assist those caught out by the early arrival to link up with their drivers. Ah yes, the familiar magic of Bhutan is already weaving its spell.I have been here many times, but am still hopelessly susceptible to the enchantment. When Bhutan first opened to tourism in 1974 it was not long before I had a chance to visit with our client, Lindblad Travel. The Swedish visionary entrepreneur, Lars-Eric Lindblad, represented Bhutan from a corner of his New York office draped in prayer flags and woven cloth, and first advised His then-Majesty on the ‘high value, low volume’ model of tourism.Although I only got to Paro and Thimphu on that first visit, from the tortuous roads we spotted otters playing on the riverbanks, and I was captivated by the royal pageantry, ubiquitous archery, claret-clad monks and intense potency of the fortress dzong.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/adventurers-in-a-vanishing-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Adventures in a vanishing land</a>, Lisa Choegyal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a57079c7e80680e0547bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1632" height="1224"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>I have helped with tourism, movies and events in Bhutan on a number of occasions. In 1992, Bernardo Bertolucci strutted the stone flagged courtyards of the massive Paro Dzong, directing with flair and flailing arms the feature film Little Buddha, more ambitious and elaborate than ever again attempted in that holy precinct.Special permissions were needed from the royal government for such an unusual invasion, and my quest graduated from officials in the rows of humble wooden sheds that housed the civil service, to the carpeted offices and corner stairways in the main seat of government in Thimphu, the Tashichho Dzong 'fortress of the glorious religion'.Ravens called and pigeons circled as we negotiated the guards and stepped through the huge doorways into the grey stone precincts, our Bhutanese escorts adjusting their raw silk sashes of formal respect. Sloping walls glowered above us to the painted eaves and massive roofs, and the quarters of the ruling monarch were indicated to us with due deference through the next courtyard. When the rare permission was granted, with typical charm the Foreign Minister hosted us to a celebratory dinner, sitting on carpeted benches and eating red rice, cheese and chillies off small carved tables.A decade later we were back to prepare a national ecotourism strategy, consulting for the tourism authority under the unforgiving eye and dishevelled goh of veteran Thuji Nadik, never one to suffer fools. With our WWF clients we trekked into the back blocks of Bumthang, through flowering rhododendron forests, remote palace strongholds and rural villages, staying in richly decorated houses with sparse impoverished interiors.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/infectious-enthusiasm-for-travel/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Infectious enthusiasm for travel</a>, Lisa Choegyal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a570b9c7e80680e0547bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>We happened to be in Thimphu on 9/11, watching the New York drama unfold on a flickering screen in our favourite Yeedzin Guesthouse. The King called every American in the country to personally condole them and the monk body dedicated days of prayers to those lost in the Twin Towers. By a twist of fate, I stayed in that same guesthouse room last month, little changed since 2001, with familiar erratic service, creaking wood floors and wobbly taps, but now dwarfed by international brand hotels -- a six-lane bypass runs alongside Thimphu’s old archery ground.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/recreating-tiger-tops-in-the-tropics/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Recreating Tiger Tops in the tropics</a>, Lisa Choegyal<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a570c9c7e80680e0547bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>For Thuji and his team we returned several times with the ADB, working on Buddhist circuits and ecotourism. Driving to Mongar and Trashigang in the far east with our Nepali aviation colleagues, we inspected existing and proposed airports, trekking up hilltops to assess feasibility and enjoy the flowers, forest and mountain scenery.Near Trongsa we were rewarded with golden langurs leisurely crossing the road and, in the marshy valley of Phobjica, the sacred black-necked cranes honoured us with their elegant disdain. Communications in those days were so difficult that the Civil Aviation director in Paro was surprised when we reported that Yonphula airstrip, close to the Arunachal Pradesh border, had been recently resurfaced.During a job with the Norwegians, checking out tourism and environmental implications of a proposed hydropower master plan, we indulged in fly-fishing for trout in the pristine rivers. Strictly catch and release, the rules permit fishing only when out of eye-sight of any religious monument, dzong, chorten or stupa. One of Bhutan’s less likely exports is hand-tied flies for the world’s recreational fly-fishers.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108141116/636a570f9c7e80680e0547bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Bhutan is the first country in the world to become carbon negative: its forests absorb more carbon than its inhabitants burn. But although much admired as an astute national policy, Bhutan’s uniquely-managed, pre-paid tourism with its tiny population of some 800,000 people and gross national happiness brand is hard, probably impossible, to replicate elsewhere. Amongst our recommendations was to evolve the tourism strategy to ‘high value, low impact’, using financial mechanisms to control visitors at sustainable levels, nurturing the cultural ‘Bhutan style’ for visitors. And to find ways that more tourism benefits can stick in the countryside, something at which Nepal has been far more successful.Bhutan these days is on the move. Lofty electricity pylons march across the country, competing with the hosts of fluttering prayer flags that clamber up the steep ridges above the valley floors. Construction sites have come to characterise the creeping city perimeters of Paro and Thimphu as Bhutanese crowd in from the countryside, and pressure from Indian tourists threatens Bhutan’s grip on its carefully crafted tourism objectives.New hotels and apartment blocks faithfully reflect the carved and painted vernacular architecture of this last Himalayan eyrie, but new roads scar the hillsides and laden trucks grind their way up from India. The swarm of smart imported SUVs have to watch out for horses and mules grazing unfettered along the roadside, avoid the dogs supine in the sunshine, and steer around cows sleeping on the warm tarmac.But some things never change in this blessed kingdom. They still proudly wear their glamorous national garb, blithely manage their dependence on India,<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/who-stands-with-bhutanese-refugees-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> ignore the thorny issue of refugees</a>, and zealously guard their traditions, navigating the cultural clash of ancient and modern. The Bhutanese must be the only nation on earth who so genuinely and universally adore and revere their royal family. Inspirational they are too, and I for one am happy to be bewitched by Bhutan.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/so-far-so-good/the-kathmandu-crowd/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Kathmandu Crowd</a>, Lisa Choegyal

Lisa Choegyal

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Bhutan is on the move

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.

eastern

Jazz returns to the 'Mandu

Bhutan is on the move

The Himalaya is not fragile

My father’s son

Sacred seed feeds boom

Parks by the people and for the people