Two adjoininig villages became household names after the 25 April 2015 earthquake: Laprak and Barpak in Gorkha district.&nbsp; The quaintly rhyming names of these two Gurung settlements evoke frightful memories of the destructive power of the 7.8 magnitude earthquake. The epicentre was just 8km away, and the earthquake levelled most houses in both villages as well as surrounding ones. On the eighth anniversary of the earthquake, Laprak and Barpak hold lessons on how not to design and implement post-disaster reconstruction of homes. Ram Gurung along with most Laprak residents had nowhere to go when his home was destroyed in 2015, so the family lived in tents in a livestock meadow in Gumsipakha up the mountain. “I did not want to go back, there was nothing to go back to,” Gurung recalls. After the earthquake, overseas Nepalis helped the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) to build an integrated settlement in the same pasture in Gumsipakha. It was supposed to be finished in two years, but stretched to five with cost overruns to Rs576 million.&nbsp; But today, only 50 of the 573 new uniformly built houses in Gumsipakha are inhabited. Laprak is now an example of how even well-intentioned disaster response can be inappropriate.&nbsp; The houses all look the same, they do not reflect the integrated townscape of traditional Gurung villages, it is a four hour hike away up the mountain from the original village, it is colder, and gets snow in winter. &nbsp; Laprak was hit by a destructive landslide 17 years before the earthquake, and geologists had recommended relocating the village even back then. But it looks like relocating the new settlement in Gumsipakha was not a good idea.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/nepalquake-8-years-later">#NepalQuake 8 years later</a>, Anil Pokhrel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230425110412_471044c43596f287ab6a97d7d4d68864f6fc5a67cfece4bcf198b555defcba5f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230425110412_471044c43596f287ab6a97d7d4d68864f6fc5a67cfece4bcf198b555defcba5f" data-rendition-name="original" width="853" height="525" loading="lazy" alt="2015 earthquake map NT"> </figure>  Like the adjoining village of Barpak, most families here have members who have served in the British and Indian armies. The earthquake accelerated the outmigration from Upper Gorkha, so there was also no need to build so many new houses anyway. Most remaining residents are farmers and pastoralists, but the new houses do not have space for livestock like in traditional Gurung homes. If the villagers stay in Gumsipakha, they would have to come down to Laprak every day to take care of the fields and animals. “The houses and the location were just not suited for farming families like ours,” says Kamala Gurung, who has moved back to Laprak. “There is no space for storing our harvest, or to build sheds for animals or even for the children to play in.” The new houses have two floors, and are also not fit for extended families. Locals have found that &nbsp;doors and windows of the houses are not sturdy enough, and they do not feel safe with just a plastic roof. But the biggest problem is that there are no nearby springs at Gumsipakha. The charity CARE Nepal did bring water from 19km away, but the pipes burst due to the freezing cold this winter, and residents had to fetch water from a spring half an hour away. For many, that was the last straw. Marsi Gurung is one of the few people who still Iive in the new settlement, and thinks people will move back if the water problem is solved. “They did not plan this properly at all,” he says. “Many people have moved back to Laprak despite the landslide danger there.”&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/back-to-classroom-for-earthquake-preparedness">Back to classroom for earthquake preparedness</a>, Rachael Lau&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042511048_35683ecbdc20d4922f5b83f012f934b9d29ca2971ac9fc5b7e100fa44af27d2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023042511048_35683ecbdc20d4922f5b83f012f934b9d29ca2971ac9fc5b7e100fa44af27d2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1293" height="699" loading="lazy" alt="Lapark 2"> </figure>  Same story elsewhere In Yasikai village of Rapti Municipality in Chitwan, villagers were relocated 6km west to Kalitar after the earthquake because of landslide risk. The NRA provided land and Rs6.5 million to construct new houses, but no one lives there.&nbsp; According to Ward Chair Ashok Kumar Praja, the reason people are still living in Yasikai is that “The houses in Kalitar are not suitable for farmers, there is nowhere to keep the animals,” says Praja. Some 56 families of Kapurgaun of Dhading district were also relocated to Bhuwalepani and Ale following the earthquake. The NRA got Rs4.5 million to build new homes, but after living there for a short time people started moving back to their original village. The reason was the same: the new settlement had houses but no arrangements for farming and animals or any employment opportunities. And even though it was only 10km away from the district headquarters, it was four days away from their old village. After the earthquake, the NRA authorised building 64 settlements in 32 districts out of which 20 have been constructed and 44 are still being built. More than Rs1.42 billion has been spent to construct 3,956 houses, but most are small, narrow, and built with little consideration for the climate of the locality or of the lifestyle of residents.&nbsp; Geological conditions, physical and social infrastructure, and the local economy have been used to identify villages to be relocated after the earthquake. Standards for roads, water supply, sewerage, open areas, buildings, waste management, schools, health services, and building construction have also been spelled out.&nbsp; But most of the new settlements do not follow the planned parameters because research was rarely conducted on the social, economic, cultural, and geographical aspects of the inhabitants. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-a-disastrous-state">In a disastrous state</a>, Sonia Awale  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023042511048_9aa0b70acc2841793563e20f10246affe376fde62599a7b5595aead1fb47bdf0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023042511048_9aa0b70acc2841793563e20f10246affe376fde62599a7b5595aead1fb47bdf0" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Dang NT 1"> </figure>  Former vice-chair of the National Planning Commission Pitamber Sharma blames the government arbitrarily approving designs without understanding the local needs and social history.&nbsp; Before planning a new integrated settlement, he says, it would have been necessary to study whether it was suitable for the family for whom the house was to be built, how far the farms are from the settlement, and the livelihood of the people. “Not enough homework was done to address the social, cultural, and economic background of the people who have lived there for generations,” explains Sharma. Sociologist Meena Poudel says that villagers do not feel comfortable in an integrated settlement because social and cultural ties are severed in the name of modernity, engineering, and subsidies. “People cannot live in narrow houses that are too far away from where they originally lived,” says Poudel. “People do not like development that disrupts their social, cultural, and religious relations and beliefs.” The former CEO of NRA, Sushil Gyewali says that the houses were made smaller because there was not enough money, and admitted that integrating the livelihood aspects in the new designs were never implemented.&nbsp; Gyewali adds, “If the plan was implemented properly, there would not have been complaints like this.” And that begs the question: why were the new designs not implemented properly by the NRA? The answer could be frequent changes in political appointees to head the NRA after 2015 that broke the continuity in planning. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/turkey-and-nepal-face-similar-seismic-risks">Turkey and Nepal face similar seismic risks</a>, Surya Narayan Shrestha

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Building back (not) better after 2015

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222569c7e80680e0c02eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"/><figcaption>Madan Puraskar Pustakalaya. Photos: ABARI</figcaption></figure>It was 2AM on 11 June when a 4.7 magnitude earthquake shook Kathmandu residents from their sleep, but it is doubtful if it will jolt many out of the complacency about seismic risk.The tremor did not cause any damage, but it brought back memories of the 2015 earthquake, and forced some to reflect on the safety of Kathmandu’s buildings. The 2015 quake that saw the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-concrete-future,2251">collapse of predominantly brick, mud, and mortar buildings</a>, feeding public perception that concrete structures are more durable.However civil engineers and architects say technologies like rammed earth would be environmentally more sustainable and earthquake-resilient. But reinforced concrete is preferred, with Nepal’s domestic cement production more than tripling from 3 million tonnes to 10 million tonnes in the six years since the earthquake.By coincidence on the day of the 11 June quake, rammed earth architects gathered for a workshop in Patan to take stock of progress so far.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222599c7e80680e0c02efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="1124">Rammed earth construction uses locally-sourced soil often combined with gravel and reinforced with steel bars and limited concrete. It involves no machinery and therefore less emission, a contrast to brick kilns that contribute heavily to Kathmandu’s pollution. Materials are also largely sourced locally, which reduces both cost of transportation and fossil fuels.Narayan Acharya, the director of Sustainable Future Nepal, built his own house in Kathmandu with locally-sourced materials and rammed earth techniques. He has now built 10 more structures in Kathmandu Valley.“It is warm in the winter and cool for the monsoon, we should promote that all over Nepal,” says Acharya, adding that rammed earth structures are both sustainable, comfortable and retain the traditional Newa style. While the walls are made of soil and other material, the structures are resistant to monsoon weather. He also has a built-in water recycling system and a biogas tank.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/6372225c9c7e80680e0c02f0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Rammed earth projects have been particularly successful in Nepal’s rural environments. In 2020, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/bayalpata-hospital-in-nepal-wins-global-design-award/">Bayalpata Hospital</a> in Accham was built with rammed earth technology and won international design awards. Despite these successes, rammed earth structures have yet to establish a hold in Kathmandu.“There are not as many rammed earth structures in Kathmandu proper,” explains Tyler Survant, an architect and founder of Better Building Bureau, alongside Anna Leshnick.One reason for the lack of rammed earth structures in Kathmandu is the misconception that mud mortar buildings are weaker. In 2015, the majority of fallen buildings in the earthquake were brick and <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10518-020-00834-y">mud mortar</a>. But those fallen buildings were not built with rammed earth techniques, and many violated building codes.“They do not believe mud is strong enough,” says Acharya about rammed earth structures. “It is important to overcome that misconception.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/6372225f9c7e80680e0c02f1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="855"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Experts warn that public <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-concrete-future,2251">confidence in concrete</a> construction is misleading. “Do not believe for a second that concrete won’t be impacted in an earthquake,” says Jharna Joshi, an architect and professor at Kathmandu University. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/concrete-lessons-of-2015/">Even a slightly longer or more intense earthquake </a>could have also brought down concrete structures in 2015.According to Survant, current building codes limit rammed earth structures to two and a half stories, making them less popular in a dense, city environment that builds upwards even though rammed earth buildings can go up to three stories.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/quake-was-a-learning-experience-for-nepals-schools/">Quake was a learning experience for Nepal’s schools</a>, Prakriti Kandel<a href="https://kathmandupost.com/valley/2015/10/28/govt-brings-new-building-bylaws">Building codes require adjacent residential buildings, even in concrete, to not exceed three stories</a>, but contractors often add additional floors on top of existing structures. “There is a building code, but people do not follow the rules. And since land is very expensive, some build six stories to not lose any value.”Acharya says his rammed earth structures did not crack in the last earthquake. Earth buildings are used internationally and historically, with structures found in Chile, India, Nepal, and Iran. “Earth structures have been part of vernacular for millenia, and they have tested it,” says Survant, explaining that rammed earth structures use reinforced ring beams, steel bars, and up to 10% concrete that interlock the earth walls.“The concrete and rebar is providing the same support, but with far far less concrete and using local materials,” he adds.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222629c7e80680e0c02f2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="844"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Rammed earth’s costs come from its added insulation, and the experienced builders required, including a structural engineer. It also reduces other financial and environmental costs. There is far less transport of concrete to a building site, and no brick production in polluting kilns.“If you calculate all the costs, it is competitive, this can be cheaper,” says Acharya. “And rammed earth is not just for the short term, it is built to last.”Rammed earth’s materials are unlikely to contribute to future waste and environmental impact because when demolished, the material can be reused.Joshi explains that after the 1934 earthquake, Kathmandu was rebuilt with traditional timber salvaged from previous structures. After 2015, most buildings are now concrete. “We need to upcycle existing materials. If you build in concrete, there is no way you can reuse those materials,” she adds.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-traditional-seismic-resistant-designs/">Nepal’s traditional seismic resistant designs</a>, Sheilin Teo

Foundations for sustainable buildings in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e249c7e80680e0bd52bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="946" height="1261"/><figcaption>SCENIC, BUT ALSO SEISMIC: Kyanjin in Langtang Valley has resurrected after the 2015 earthquake, but even in this remote area, most of the rebuilt hotels are multistorey concrete structures. Cement and steel rods were lifted there by helicopter. The new buildings have also changed the cultural landscape of this ancient monastery village. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>The reconstruction of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/building-back-unsafe,3674" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">private and public buildings damaged in the 2015 earthquake</a> is nearly complete. Now it is time to also focus on being prepared for the next big disaster.Himalayan seismologists have long warned that a megaquake is overdue in western Nepal. The last big earthquake to hit the region was in 1205, and it was so powerful that it killed a king in Kathmandu, and set off a cataclysmic avalanche to create Pokhara and its lakes.So much tectonic tension has accumulated below <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-two-disasters-in-west-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">western Nepal</a> since that it is ready to snap. A 8+ magnitude earthquake there will also shake up the rest of the country as well as northern India. It is not a matter of if, but when.“We have done a commendable job with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/restoring-a-piece-of-nepals-history/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reconstruction</a> given the scale of the disaster in 2015, but outside of those 14 districts we are not prepared at all for the next big quake,” warns Surya Narayan Shrestha of the National Society for Earthquake Technology (NSET).The importance of preparedness was highlighted by the fact that schools retrofitted by NSET all survived the 2015 earthquake. They even served as shelters as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/concrete-planning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">aftershocks</a> rocked the region.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/falling-through-the-cracks/">Falling through the cracks</a>, Sahina Shrestha<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e289c7e80680e0bd52cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="645">Adds Shrestha: “Retrofitting public buildings should be the topmost priority now, it is the best cost-effective solution for a seismically active and resource limited country like ours. So in the next 10-15 years, we must take up a campaign to continually retrofit schools across Nepal.”The fact that most <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/concrete-planning/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reinforced concrete</a> structures survived the 2015 earthquake convinced Nepalis that cement houses are stronger. As the road network expands, cement has now reached the remotest parts of Nepal – but experts warn that if the raw materials do not meet quality standards and proper construction methods are not followed, concrete structures can be even more dangerous in an earthquake.“Cement and concrete have given people a false sense of security after 2015,” says Anil Pokhrel of the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA). “We have to enforce building codes through the municipalities by giving them clear roles, technical know-how, and financial and human resources.”Indeed, the Authority is getting ready for the next big earthquake by spending Rs350 million to buy rescue equipment for collapsed concrete structures, and training Armed Police Force (APF) and Nepal Army on how to use them.Public misconception about concrete, coupled with people forgetting the horror of 25 April 2015, has led to<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> haphazard growth and construction</a> in Kathmandu Valley. It is not earthquakes that kill people, but poorly built houses.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e2b9c7e80680e0bd52djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="412" height="198">The Gongabu neighbourhood of Kathmandu saw <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/05/01/deceived-and-dead/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hundreds of casualties</a> when concrete structures with weak foundations and illegally added floors flattened like pancakes seven years ago. In Dhapakhel, an eight-storey engineering college collapsed into a heap of rubble.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/concrete-planning/">Concrete planning</a>, EditorialIf it was not a Saturday, the death toll of 8,890 in the 2015 earthquake would have been several times higher. More than 7,000 schools were either destroyed or severely damaged in the quake.“Public memory of a disaster usually lasts four years, and people now are a lot less careful about raw material and construction methods,” adds Pokhrel.Increasing urban pressure has meant that people in Kathmandu and other cities have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lessons-not-learned-from-2015/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">forgotten the lessons learned</a>, and have gone back to constructing substandard structures flouting building codes.Warns NSET’s Shrestha: “We are haphazardly building concrete structures again. The next earthquake above 8 magnitude probable in western Nepal could be a catastrophe."In Kathmandu Valley, the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/khokana-and-bungamati-strive-to-save-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rebuilding of ancient towns</a> like Sankhu, Bungamati, Harisiddhi and Tokha that were destroyed in 2015 has been slower than that of the Darbar Squares of Patan or Bhaktapur. And here the challenge is to maintain the original architectural heritage of the historic towns.Harisiddhi was the first town to come up with a technical proposal to retain its traditional Newa skyline, but without much success, admits engineer Bijay Maharjan.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later/">Rebuilding resilience 7 years later</a>, Anil Pokhrel<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e2c9c7e80680e0bd52ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“A lot of people are now aware that they have to build safer houses and they also use higher quality construction materials, but we largely failed to maintain traditional architecture which are more costly,” he adds.Harisiddhi Ward 29 chair Ganesh Kumar Maharjan is planning to recontest in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">May local elections</a>, and when asked if his town is prepared for the next big earthquake, he says, “In Nepal, we are always waiting for the next big one, and we can never be fully prepared. Our preparedness should not just be awareness but real work on the ground.”Nearby, the chair of Harisiddhi’s Ward 28 Rajesh Maharjan wants to provide alternative income generation sources to prevent local communities from selling their ancestral land to developers.Seven years after 2015, and despite successes in reconstruction, building standards are poor. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/lessons-still-not-learnt/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Much more needs to be done</a> to enforce seismic resistant structures, and invest in preparedness.Says Surya Narayan Shrestha: “We are in the business of saving lives. All municipalities across Nepal need to mandatorily enforce building codes with strict monitoring. That is the only way we can prevent buildings from killing people in the next earthquake.”Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The history of heritage</a>, Ashish Dhakal

Sonia Awale

Concrete lessons of 2015

<img width="500" height="750" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/6372043d9c7e80680e0b284fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><img width="1000" height="1500" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/6372043f9c7e80680e0b2850jpeg.jpg" alt="">Photos: BIKRAM RAI/NEPALI TIMESEarthquakes are inevitable in Nepal. It is not a question of ‘if’, but ‘when’. And ‘when’ was 2:28PM on 15 January 1934. It was <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2015/05/27/a-month-that-felt-like-a-year/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">11:56AM on 25 April, 2015</a>. Another memorable and tragic date in future is certain.But Nepalis have short memories. As long as aftershocks shook us, we were reminded about the horrors. But seven years after 2015, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/tall-order/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the fear has evaporated</a>.This is not panic-mongering, or crying wolf. It is reality: every part of the central Himalaya is hit by a megaquake above 8 magnitude every 500 years or so, and a moderate intensity quake every 100 years.The 2015 disaster was not a Big One, 1934 was. Nonetheless, both released some of the built-up tectonic tension underneath us. What worries Himalayan seismologists is that there has been no <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-two-disasters-in-west-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">major earthquake in western Nepal</a> in the last 500 years. The rock strata beneath are stretched to breaking point.Experts tell us that if an 8M earthquake strikes in this seismic gap between Pokhara and Dadeldhura, it will also rock Kathmandu and be even more damaging than 2015.That <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/rebuilding-five-years-after-2015-quake/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">7.8M earthquake seven years ago</a> was comparable to the 7.7M quake in Gujarat in 2001, and the 7.6M temblor in 2005 in Kashmir. In 2015, Nepal saw greater physical damage, but India and Pakistan had much higher casualties. One reason was that we were lucky 25 April 2015 was a Saturday, and students were not in classrooms.To mark National Earthquake Safety Day on 15 January, we recap the past seven years. There is some good news: over 80% of reconstruction is complete. Nepal’s recovery has been smoother than other developing countries hit by mega disasters.  Despite initial delays due to political muddles and the Blockade, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/lessons-not-learned-from-2015/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reconstruction in most sectors</a> picked up in 2016. Today, only health facilities and heritage sites are lagging at about 65% completion. Most rebuilt homes follow national seismic resistance guidelines because masons were trained, and there was monitoring before grants were released in installments.However, reconstruction in Kathmandu and other towns have not even passed the 60% mark, and could take another five years. The Rs300,000 reconstruction grant was just not enough for families to rebuild urban homes. More worrisome is that whatever has been rebuilt in Kathmandu Valley mostly flout building codes and permits.The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/building-back-unsafe,3674" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gongabu neighbourhood saw 160 deaths</a> in 2015, most of them were crushed under illegally built concrete structures. Most of those high rises have been rebuilt using the same faulty techniques.Except in Gongabu, most concrete structures survived the 2015 quake in Kathmandu. This has <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/false-sense-of-security-about-strength-of-reinforced-concrete-structures,2240" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reinforced public misconception</a> that cement houses, regardless of how they are built, are stronger than brick and mortar ones.However, seismologists say that if the tremors in 2015 were only a few seconds longer and the magnitude slightly higher, many of Kathmandu’s concrete buildings would have also collapsed. They are unlikely to be spared in the next big one.Seven years after the earthquake, it is back to business as usual. In fact, Kathmandu is now more dangerous because it is even more densely packed, and there are more multi-storey blocks. Clearly, awareness about earthquakes has not translated into safer construction — we have forgotten that earthquakes do not kill people, poorly built structures do.Surya Narayan Shrestha at the National Society for Earthquake Technology – Nepal (NSET) tells us that building codes need to be strictly enforced with stringent monitoring mechanisms. Municipalities must be stricter with building permits.Next, masons and concrete moulding workers need skills upgrading in earthquake resistant building technology. Security personnel now need <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Search-locate-%20rescue-in-collapsed-concrete-houses,3676" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">training in search and rescue</a> under collapsed concrete structures.Shrestha says schools, hospitals and public buildings need to be retrofitted urgently. Many schools NSET had <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/preparedness-saves-lives,2264" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">helped retrofit</a> withstood the 2015 earthquake, and this model needs to be replicated across western Nepal.Nepal’s towns are losing open spaces, which are vital as shelters in the aftermath of future earthquakes. Kathmandu must <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-artists-butterfly-effect/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">protect remaining open spaces</a>, and these efforts need to be scaled up not just for earthquake safety but also to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/mini-forests-to-make-kathmandu-more-liveable/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">restore the city’s lungs</a>.   Preparedness will mean life or death for all Nepalis, not just for those in the seismic gap in the western part of the country. This should be the main message on the National Earthquake Safety Day. Earthquakes are beyond our control, but we can <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/past-disasters-foretold/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">make ourselves safer</a> when they happen.Sonia Awale

Lessons still not learnt

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121144/636b92bf9c7e80680e06f167jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1680" height="1118"/><figcaption>Photo: MANISH PAUDEL/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>Soon after the coronavirus first emerged in Wuhan in December 2019, it spread rapidly within weeks to become an international public health emergency. Though it took months for the root of the illness to be identified, the virus was carried by human hosts in a highly interconnected globalised world.What would start as fever, chills, and flu-like symptoms began to lead to more severe cases of cardiac injury, respiratory failure and death. Those with pre-existing health conditions and the elderly were particularly vulnerable.The pandemic hotspots shifted from China to northern Italy, New York, then it was Brazil and the second wave that is ravaging India and Nepal. People were locked in at home for months to stop the spread, and it came at an additional cost – the rise of a mental health crisis globally.The Covid-19 pandemic has affected everyone and every aspect of our lives. The lockdowns may have helped contain the virus, but it <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-prepares-for-economic-fallout-of-pandemic/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-prepares-for-economic-fallout-of-pandemic/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFNmR9X3YmCrQqNw1FBAGmfiCln2w">destabilised economies</a>, businesses went bankrupt, people lost jobs, again exacerbating the impact on mental health in societies.The coronavirus emerged because of the over-<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-nature-of-pandemics/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-nature-of-pandemics/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFdtI-md82Syn9kPX3XvQxEsytPFg">exploitation of nature</a> by a globalised mass consumption society. But the pandemic it unleashed has allowed us to think about that, and also allowed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/coronavirus-shutdown-gives-nepals-nature-a-respite/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/coronavirus-shutdown-gives-nepals-nature-a-respite/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGjFSVplTP8JEJIO5Z3tiqLfAmkRw">nature to begin to restore itself</a>.Studies have shown that lockdowns in response to the pandemic have significantly improved the air quality in many big cities due to the shutting down of industries and fewer vehicles on the roads. From Kathmandu, the Himalaya suddenly came into view.The restrictions and lockdowns led to a decrease in economic activity, resulting in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-lockdown-proves-air-quality-can-be-improved/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-lockdown-proves-air-quality-can-be-improved/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEYWiOv5AGc2wmkU8qJ7ukoSO2t4w">reduced air pollution</a> and emission of greenhouse gases. Ironically, while the virus was attacking the respiratory system, countermeasures taken against its spread were also <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/double-whammy-air-pollution-and-covid-19/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/double-whammy-air-pollution-and-covid-19/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNGpVy3V8L2xvmfYCZEjNngNVn1DWg">making it easier to breathe. </a>The ban on international travel also helped reduce the emission of greenhouse gases, dramatically demonstrating the path to reducing the impact of the climate crisis: the need to cap carbon dioxide emissions.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-carbon-footprint-of-nepals-tourism/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-carbon-footprint-of-nepals-tourism/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHf6W5H1b9EDeZu8Y_x1BnST3siyw">collapse of tourism</a> affected the economies of countries like Nepal, but it has allowed nature to regenerate. There is less waste along the trekking trails, less garbage.Across the world, people are consuming much less than they used to. It is hard to say if this frugality will persist in the post-pandemic era, but it has set a precedent. Many of us are focusing more on our health, and have adopted better eating habits.For nearly two months now, there is also less noise pollution. Kathmandu’s streets are silent, no roar of trucks, no honking, no construction work, and few jets overhead. Persistent ambient clamour is known to affect our physiological and physical health. With less unwanted noise, the soothing sounds of nature are more audible with bird song, frogs in ponds, and even the rustle of leaves on trees. The sound of silence, and comforting natural sounds carry many mental health benefits.Cities attract people because of economic opportunities and their cosmopolitanism. The absence of people in these urban centres during the pandemic have allowed them to restore themselves organically – showing us that we have to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pandemic-is-a-chance-to-rethink-development/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pandemic-is-a-chance-to-rethink-development/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNG6oAiPAlgzK0NmSxSIbDU0MyC4OA">tread more lightly on the environment</a>. For once, the focus has shifted from people to nature so that it has a chance to recover from years of abuse.All of this has come at a great price, no doubt, but Covid-19 has also shown us what we need to do for a sustainable lifestyle to reduce anthropogenic carbon and the burden on nature. If we focus away from the negative impact the pandemic has had on us, and redirect it to the nature around us, we see many positive outcomes that also have beneficial effects on our own lives.We have started focusing more on relationships because earlier most of us were too busy to find the time to do so. We have begun communicating more with family and friends. The pandemic also offers us a chance to rethink our lives, and our purpose.We have started consuming less because we realised that we do not need as much as we thought. There have been significant changes in consumer behaviour that have been good for the planet just because we use, and waste, less.The world is recovering from years of damage that we were so disrespectfully placing on the planet’s resources. In Nepal, we have seen signs of the ecosystem starting to rebalance itself. The question is whether government policies will reflect this in the coming years.It is terrible what Covid-19 has done to the world, but it has also shown us how to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/build-back-greener/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/build-back-greener/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1623901287419000&amp;usg=AFQjCNExv5VA-LyNgHQNsiZOMwoP0Jsqgg">improve the planet’s health</a>, and with it, the human condition. We desperately want to get back to our everyday lives, but being isolated has reminded us that even if we go back to the way we lived, we have to be mindful of our impact on the planet.We can rebuild the economy, but the damage humans are inflicting on nature is irreversible. The pandemic provides the chance to take action to restructure the way we live.Anjana Rajbhandary lives and works in Chicago. She writes this fortnightly Nepali Times column Life Time about mental health, physical health and socio-cultural issues.

Anjana Rajbhandary

Grow back greener

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6629c7e80680e096767jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>It was the spring of 2015, and the trekking season was off to a good start. There was a long line of hikers on the trail along the Langtang Khola from Syabru to Lama Hotel.Trekkers who had come earlier were on their way down, hurrying to catch jeeps back to Kathmandu for their flights out. Tourism was booming, and the people of Langtang had added floors to family homes to turn them into lodges for added income.Langtang’s economy depended on trekking and the cheese-dairy business, each helping the other. Every day, there were at least 150 tourists in Langtang, acclimatising before moving up the Valley to Kyanjin or camping in the yak pastures higher up.I remember the morning of 25 April well. It was an overcast day, and the mountains were covered up. I had been in Langtang village with my parents for a religious ritual, and at 8AM started walking back to Kyanjin to the cheese factory where I am manager. My three children were at home, close to the cheese plant.Just before noon, there was a deep rumble from below the ground, and the stone walls of the cheese factory began to shake, and collapsed altogether. The roof caved in and there was dust everywhere.The ground was still shaking when there was another more ominous roar from the mountains above. Even before we could see what was coming, there was a blast of wind that knocked down everyone who was outside. Some people who had rushed out of collapsing buildings to save themselves were blown away by the fierce wind.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6659c7e80680e096768jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="559" height="278">Even though it was mid-day, everything went dark. The wind was blowing in dust mixed with ice, the prayer flags were fluttering wildly. It was only then that I realised we had been hit by an avalanche.There were people with broken limbs, others had been cut by flying metal roofs, there were dead yaks near the pens. I ran home to see if my children were all right, and was relieved to see that they were safe, though shaken.My son and one of my daughters were still hiding under the bed, as they had been taught in school to do in case of an earthquake. It saved their lives because the avalanche and the blast preceding it had knocked down one window, and blown right through the room and out through the other window.My next thought was about the safety of my parents. But the closer I got to Langtang village, the more worried I became. I passed relatives and friends fleeing the village, and they told me “it is all gone”, or “don’t go there”. Yet, I pressed on.The destruction to buildings was more severe the closer I got to Langtang. The dead and injured lay everywhere. Yaks and mules had been blown right across to the other side of the valley where all the trees were flattened. The ground was white as if it had snowed, but this was all ice from the avalanche.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/langtang-copes-with-quake-and-covid/">Langtang copes with quake and Covid</a>, Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6669c7e80680e096769jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="1313"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Langtang was all gone, most of the people, livestock and houses had been blown away by the shock wave. The houses that remained were buried under 100m of ice and rock. There was no trace of my parent’s home on the western edge of the village. My father was 62, and had been grazing his yaks. We found him five days later near the river, resting with his arms under his head as if he was sleeping. His face was turned towards where the yaks would have been, his body frozen by the ice that fell from Langtang.My 65-year-old mother was inside the house, and we found her buried in the debris as the stone walls collapsed around her. Nearby were the bodies of two aunts, my younger sister and brother-in-law, a sister-in-law.There were too many deaths for funeral rituals, and we just recited our mantra as they were cremated. There were 175 local people who were killed that day, about 100 foreign tourists also perished, and there is no count of Nepali cooks, porters and support staff in the lodges. Our guess is that there were 225 of them.The avalanche also killed 27 herders and 400 yaks that provided milk for the cheese factory. The cheese-making plant was destroyed, along with all the equipment and the storeroom with 300 kg of cheese.Cheese-making was already in crisis in Langtang before the earthquake because the younger generation did not want to stay in the village, and if they did they were not interested in herding yaks.But the earthquake-avalanche had a silver lining: the Dairy Development Corporation in Kathmandu agreed to raise the buying price of yak milk to Rs120 per kg from Rs90. The Swiss came back to Langtang with compensation for herders to buy new yaks, and they put in Rs18 million to rebuild the factory with new equipment and even set up a dairy lab for quality control.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6699c7e80680e09676ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2000" height="1501"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce66d9c7e80680e09676bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1692" height="1232">Langtang Cheese Production Centre after the earthquake destroyed it in 2015, and last year after it was rebuilt with new equipment, a storage facility, and a lab. Photos: GYALBU TAMANGIt is now feasible for farmers to take up yak herding again, and with tourism in the doldrums many have taken loans to expand their yak herds. Someone with 20 yaks who sells 50 litres of milk daily, for example, can now earn Rs6,000 a day. The cheese unit is collecting 300 litres of milk a day, and in the monsoon it can go up to 600 litres daily.Before the earthquake, we were manufacturing 4,500kg of cheese per year, as well as 2,000kg of butter and ghee--all of it was consumed locally. Last year during the pandemic, we sent 2,500kg to Kathmandu because there were no tourists here. If it was not for Covid, we would be back to full-scale production.The factory is now able to produce more cheese than before the disaster, the income helping raise our living standard. Lodge owners who have lost tourist income have started four new yak farms in the past year. Younger people are finding a future in cheese.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6719c7e80680e09676cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="1313"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6749c7e80680e09676djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="1313"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce6789c7e80680e09676ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1750" height="1313">Photos: GYALBU TAMANGPeople in Langtang believe that the gods punished them for being greedy and selfish, competing with each other to build taller and bigger lodges. That is why the gods sent down the avalanche to wipe out the village, while leaving the rest of the valley intact. It may have been a warning for us to mend our ways, to be kind to each other, and protect nature.We had started recovering from the earthquake when the Covid crisis struck. Once more, the economy has slowed down and tourism has collapsed. Still, Langtang is being rebuilt for the day when tourists will return, and we hope that we can revive what was best about Langtang, a beyul where the gods dwell, and look benevolently at us earthly beings.As told to Kunda Dixit_______________________<h2>Father and Son</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce67b9c7e80680e09676fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">Gyalbu Tamang (above) grew up accompanying his father, Pasang Norbu, to the alpine meadows in Langtang's Naya Kanga, Yala and Langsisha to graze yaks. His father was one of the pioneers who worked in the Langtang Cheese Production Centre that the Swiss helped set up in the 1950s.When Gyalbu turned 18, he got a job at the centre, and he had to get up at 4AM every morning to weigh the milk, collect firewood, get the fire going, and carry the cheese from higher up the mountains to the plant in Kyanjin. All this was familiar work for him, since he had helped his father as a boy. Swiss cheese experts Sepp Dubach and Werner Schulthess were convinced that cheese had a future in Nepal even though in the 1950s Nepalis did not really eat cheese, despite the fact that churpi was always popular.The Swiss were convinced that the best way to preserve the surplus yak milk production in places like Langtang was to convert it into cheese so it could be transported to market. They felt that yak cheese from Nepal would be as good as, if not better than, Emmentaler cheese back home. They trained Pasang Norbu in Swiss cheese-making, and he in turn passed it on to his son, Gyalbu.Pasang Norbu retired from the cheese factory, but not from the business of making cheese. Dairy farming was in his blood. So with his pension, he bought ten yaks and carried on doing what he did before, and selling the surplus milk to the cheese factory. In summer, father and son took the yaks up to graze on the slopes below Naya Kanga. It was the herbs in the grass that gave the milk, and the cheese, its unique flavour.On 25 April 2015, Pasang Norbu was grazing his yaks when the avalanche came down and swept him and his yaks away. Last week in Kyanjin, Gyalbu Tamang said: “My father taught me everything I know. I am just carrying on his work.”Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese/">The Story of Langtang Cheese</a>, Gyalbu Tamang

Langtang revives its cheese heritage

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5ea9c7e80680e096739jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Kyanjin, at 4,100 metres, is the highest settlement in the Langtang Valley. All Photos: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5ed9c7e80680e09673ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="358"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5f09c7e80680e09673bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="412"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>After attending a night-long vigil for a dead relative, Karma Tamang was taking a nap in a room in his Panorama Guest House in Kyanjin, when he was woken up by violent shaking.He staggered out into the balcony, down the stairs and outside. All around him, stone houses were crumbling in clouds of dust. Then there was another more ominous roar from the cloud-covered slopes of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/five-years-after-avalanche-langtang-is-locked-down/">Langtang</a> Lirung directly above the town.“I knew it was an avalanche, but what we did not expect was a blast of wind so strong that it swept people and yaks off their feet and blew them away,” Tamang, 55, recalls.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4R419Ei6SiEHe ran back to the farthest room in his lodge while the dirty snow blew all around like a blizzard.“There were people with broken limbs, faces bleeding, we rescued whom we could find, and sheltered them in the lodge,” he says.Tamang then remembered that his family was in his other guest house in<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-courage-and-endurance-of-the-langtangpa/"> Langtang village</a>, and ran down the valley. He met hundreds of locals and tourists, some with grievous wounds, fleeing in the opposite direction.When he reached the Army base overlooking the village, there was no village, just blocks of black ice the size of houses that looked like giant rocks. There was no sign of his home, where he had left his wife, sister, son and two nephews that morning.“I had tried to wake up my son to bring him back with me to Kyanjin, but he wanted to sleep, so I had left him there,” recalls Tamang  his face contorted by grief even six years later. They found the bodies four days later, half-buried in ice and boulders, on the other side of the valley.No one knows for sure<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/langtang-destroyed-in-earthquake,2205"> how many people died</a> in Langtang’s co-seismic disaster just before noon on 25 April 2015, but its physical and emotional scars are still visible everywhere.There used to be up to 150 trekkers every day passing through Langtang village before the earthquake, the numbers had started picking up again and lodge owners were so optimistic that they were adding floors, and expanding restaurant space.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5f39c7e80680e09673cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="305"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>That construction spree is still going on as families who survived the disaster rebuild lodges near where the village once was, and in Kyanjin. Every day, there are dozens of helicopter flights ferrying iron rods, cement and plywood in slings up the valley from Syabru.“We had thought we had seen the worst of it after the earthquake, and took loans to rebuild our lodge, improve the facilities, but there have been no trekkers for a year now,” says Sumjo Tamang, 29, as she prepares tea in the immaculate, but deserted, dining area of her Snow Leopard Guest House.Sumjo’s husband was in Langtang village ploughing his potato field with two yaks when the avalanche came down. His body was found 200m away. Up in Kyanjin, Sumjo picked up her baby daughter, and ran out when the house started shaking--only to be blown away by the shock wave.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5f69c7e80680e09673djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5f99c7e80680e09673ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>She was knocked unconscious, and neighbours found her baby in a nearby field, unhurt. When she came to, Sumjo could not move her leg which was broken in three places. Her two other daughters also survived miraculously, and the family spent four days in a cave waiting for a helicopter rescue to Kathmandu. It took a year for her leg to heal so she could return to the ruins of her lodge in Kyanjin.“It has been difficult without my husband and with small children, but everyone helped and we were just starting to recover. Now, they say this Covid will go on for another few years, I don’t know how to carry on,” she says.Even if trekking revives, lodge owners here worry that there will be too much competition and rates will go down as lodge owners try to undercut each other. There are 40 tourist lodges in Kyanjin alone, in what used to be a tiny monastery village. Most are padlocked and their owners are away in Kathmandu, but others are using the pandemic to rebuild in anticipation that tourism will pick up again.Alone in his empty Panorama Guest House, Karma Tamang sits by a shrine in his dining area with photographs of his wife, son and nephews who perished in the disaster.“The earthquake was such a shocking tragedy that for a time, people here became spiritual and believed that it was divine retribution for being selfish, and for leaving the path of the dharma,” he says. “But six years later, everyone is now back to building bigger houses, they are heavily indebted, and Covid has killed tourism. There is a lot of anxiety in the people.”Here in Kyanjin, it was mostly the stone structures that came down in the 7.8 magnitude earthquake in 2015. And, as elsewhere in Central Nepal, everyone is rebuilding using reinforced concrete columns, presuming they are stronger. The steel and cement is all flown in by helicopter.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121152/636ce5fc9c7e80680e09673fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="559" height="278">On a ridge overlooking Kyanjin, the town’s Ward Chair Supa Tamang is supervising the installation of a Nepal Telecom mobile tower for which he lobbied two years in Kathmandu. As a Nepal Communist Party candidate, he was elected in the 2017 election, but is far away from the political intrigue and infighting of his party in Kathmandu.“We survived the earthquake, and we will survive Covid as well,” says Supa Tamang confidently. “The new lodges, better facilities and mobile connectivity prove that the people of Langtang are hoping for a better tomorrow.”Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-story-of-langtang-cheese/">The Story of Langtang Cheese</a>, Gyalbu Tamang.

Kunda Dixit

Langtang copes with quake and Covid

<figure><img width="800" height="470" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5909c7e80680e096717jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Before 1934, the old quarter of Kathmandu was compact and densely populated. All photos: IMAGES OF THE CENTURY</figcaption></figure>The way Nepal’s Rana rulers went about rebuilding Kathmandu after <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/thomas-bell-kathmandu-book-review,1645" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the mega-earthquake on 15 January 1934</a> has important lessons for urban planning after 2015 as well.Every disaster offers the opportunity to start from scratch, or to build back better. Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher Rana used the 8.3 magnitude earthquake that devastated Kathmandu to build the first planned streets in Nepal—Juddha Sadak, Sukra Path, Dharma Path and Putali Sadak.  Known till today as ‘New Road’, the intersection of these streets became the capital’s business centre. By the 1970s, newly black-topped wide streets with footpaths, shops, banks, school, newspaper offices and a fire brigade was Kathmandu’s nerve centre. <figure><img width="605" height="388" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5929c7e80680e096718jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The epicenter of the 1934 earthquake was in Okhaldhunga, 120km to the east of Kathmandu, and it killed<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5065#.YHgySNJR3IU" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D5065%23.YHgySNJR3IU&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1618824648012000&amp;usg=AFQjCNFg97gfLi2H5oXqla_P8SIBQy86_A"> nearly 17,000</a> people. Because Nepal was closed off at the time when the British were in India, the disaster is still erroneously known as the Bihar Earthquake.  The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-rana-reign-a-recap-of-history,3751" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rana regime</a> was autocratic, but it soon went about systematically planning, acquiring land, redistributing houses and transferring land titles, compensating and relocating original owners.The Bhukampa Pidit Udarak Adda (Office of Earthquake Relief)’ was set up at Mahankal temple premises to draw up plans, collect funds, and to distribute loans for reconstruction.Before 1934, the old quarter of Kathmandu was compact and densely populated, with ownership pattern much like most other parts of inner city <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/good-as-old-after-two-earthquakes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Patan</a> or Bhaktapur today. The narrow streets were lined with traditional brick-paved courtyards.  Houses were two-storey, built with brick and clay mortar, and had sloping tiled roof, with large courtyards like Te Bahal and Mahankal at the edge of Tudikhel. Besides Asan, the main markets were in Makha Tole and Maru Tole.Immediately after <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5065#.YHwH8S2B0b0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the disaster</a>, Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher announced relief measures, including helping families in reconstruction, repair and maintenance. The relief office was responsible for drawing up an estimate of the building materials required for reconstruction. Architects and planners soon went to work making detailed measurements and drawings. <figure><img width="1599" height="1000" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5949c7e80680e096719jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The office also kept records of the dead and injured, livestock lost, and started a donation campaign starting with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/inside-story-of-nepals-rana-dynasty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rana families</a> and prominent citizens. The government also wrote to the international community, requesting relief. Donations were received from Britain, India and Japan.  The resources were ploughed into building a straight street from what is now New Road Gate to Gaddhi Baithak. Damaged houses that stood along the way were demolished, and a wide street replaced the winding alleys of the old town. Drinking water pipelines were installed underground, and stones used for pavement were brought from Halchok to Lainchaur using a temporary ropeway.  The façade design of each building was planned, and the new buildings laid out in such a way that they either faced an existing road, courtyard or a backyard. Whatever the size of the plot, they all had to have the same façade, whereas the internal space could be designed according to the plot owner’s will. In Sukra Path, new buildings could not be higher than 9.2m.  The windows on the first floor were stipulated to be bigger in size compared to second floor, with about 1m in width and 1.7m in height. The windows on the second floor were 0.85m in width and 1.3m in height, much bigger than in traditional Newa homes.The houses could be only three stories, the ground floors had wooden door panels for shops, and they all had 0.7m thick cornices and 1m high parapet walls. <figure><img width="800" height="532" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5979c7e80680e09671ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There was no restriction on the design of the façade facing the inner courtyard. Individual houses were allowed to have different floor heights, and they maintained these guidelines by adjusting the sill height. Along Dharma Path, the houses could be as high as four stories, again maintaining the same details as on the adjacent street.  Of the 18 households relocated from Indrachok and Khichapokhari area after the earthquake, 17 were Newa families and one was Marwari. The plots were redistributed to the local Newa and Marwaris and some to civil servants and generals.The Marwari traders, who came to Nepal during the reign of Chandra Shumshere, had 32 shops in Indrachok and Makhan Tole. Seventeen of the Marwari families continue to live along Sukra Path to this day, carrying on their traditional clothing business.To give himself credit, Juddha Shumshere also had a statue of himself erected at the intersection of the new road named after him, Juddha Sadak, and Indrachowk at Sukhra Path, and Siddhicharan Chok at Dharma Path. The statue was visible from all directions at the crossing. <figure><img width="799" height="551" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5999c7e80680e09671bjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Three years after the earthquake in January 1937 Nepal’s first bank, Nepal Bank Limited was established in a place where there were stables for horses. Nepal also got its first fire brigade, the Juddha Barun Yantra. ‘I want to build a fire brigade in Nepal. We need to be well prepared, fire can quickly engulf a house and can be dangerous,” Juddha Shumshere is quoted in a Gorkhapatra article in 1942. The first Maurice fire engine was carried over the Chitlang pass on the backs of hundreds of porters.   <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/01/12/katmandu-was-a-ruin/">Post-quake town planning </a>centralised the city’s amenities along New Road. Later, the offices of Gorkhapatra Sansthan, the municipal office, Nepal’s first movie theatre Jana Sewa Hall, Utpatti Kendra textile shop, Juddhodaya Public School, Bhugol Park to commemorate the earthquake, were all located along this intersection. <figure><img width="976" height="625" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce59c9c7e80680e09671cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The newspaper shop near the pipal tree became a hub for Nepal’s public sphere, and later also a centre for protests—much like the Mandala is now.       After completing New Road, the government started work on Putali Sadak, cutting through fields and houses. At the time these were one of the few straight roads in the Valley, and the goal of this ‘reconstruction’ was to recover the function of society in affected areas, including restoring livelihoods, and reviving economic activity.   Much was lost during this reconstruction, including Kathmandu’s traditional neighbourhoods, its architectural heritage and intangible assets. However, it also showed that post-disaster reconstruction and rehabilitation is a complex process that involved interaction of social, technical and economic factors. <figure><img width="799" height="558" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce59e9c7e80680e09671djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Despite everything, New Road and Putali Sadak are examples of public participation, good governance, and well-executed short and long-term post-disaster planning. A testimony to its success is that nearly century later, the two roads are still hubs of economic activity. <h2>Rising from the ashes</h2> <figure><img width="798" height="557" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5a19c7e80680e09671ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A city neighbourhood recovering from an earthquake would also need a school, so on 8 April, 1939, the Juddhodaya Public School was inaugurated housed in a 2 storey building on New Road. The school has moved several times since, and the high school is now located in Chhetrapati.  The newly developed neighbourhood was also where the first newspaper office in Nepal was set up in 1940. Gorkhapatra Sansthan was located in the Dugam Bahi neighbourhood, and stands in the same place to this day.While the reconstruction work was moving ahead, the government also handed out loans for private housing. More than 80% of the loans were repaid in full, and some of those who failed to pay were jailed. In September 1940, however, Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher cancelled all debts on loans.On 23 February, 1941 a column commemorating the disaster was erected at Bhugol Park which depicted Lord Shiva sitting atop a globe (pictured above). By February 1943 the Juddha Sadak to Khichapokhari road was completed. Plots of land with demolished buildings were sold for half the price of ongoing rates and new housing conforming to government guidelines built.In 1944, Dharma Path was completed with pedestrian sidewalks on both sides. In 1959, telephone cables were laid along New Road, and a Telecommunication Office located on the street.  The new Sabha Griha was built on Sukra Path in the neoclassical style blended with Newa architectural elements and over-sized carved windows on the sides of the portico. This was the first city hall, and later was converted into the Jana Sewa movie theatre, which was destroyed in a fire in 1960 and the Bishal Bazar mall built in its place.Alina Bajracharya is an architect, and this article is based on her thesis. <img width="89" height="107" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110121148/636ce5a39c7e80680e09671fjpeg.jpg" alt="">

Rebuilding Kathmandu after the 1934 quake

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5ca9c7e80680e0736e5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="600"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>It was a quiet Saturday morning, and people were lining up for a blood donation drive inside the historic pavilion from which Kathmandu gets its name.Four minutes before noon on 25 April 2015, the building started shaking. There was a frightening roar as nearby temples collapsed in clouds of yellow dust. Kasthamandap’s ancient timber beams creaked and shook, but they could not withstand the force of the quake.The structure collapsed before the blood donors could scramble out to safety, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/The-fall-of-Kasthamandap,2234">killing 10 of them.</a> For the past five years this imposing pavilion, built on foundations said to be 1,500 years old, had just been a heap of rubble. But it is finally being restored.Kathmandu was then on the historic trans-Himalayan trade route between India and Tibet, and Kasthamandap was the bustling rest house where buyers and sellers from the north and south mingled. The exchanges were not just of goods and commodities, but were also cultural and religious.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5cc9c7e80680e0736e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="430"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kasthamandap means ‘wooden pavilion’, and legend has it that it was constructed from the timber of single giant tree. It is also colloquially called Maru Satha (empty rest house). Everything happened around Kasthamandap, in the bustling Maru bazaar that exists to this day.“You will still find people here selling old currency from Lhasa and India that have been passed on from one generation to another,” says <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/rebuilding-kasthamandap-nepal,4012">Alok Siddhi Tuladhar</a>, a heritage conservationist and documentarian.After it came down in 2015,<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/righting-heritage-reconstruction-gone-wrong,3670"> there was controversy </a>about how exactly to rebuild Kastamandap. After much debate, restoration was entrusted to the <a href="https://kasthamandapnepal.org.np">Kasthamandap Reconstruction Committee,</a> a citizen-led committee of 55 members made up of heritage experts, architects, government officials and the local community. Caged by its thick bamboo scaffold, the structure is now finally taking its original shape. The construction is targeted to finish three years after the start of the process in 2017 but is being delayed by the pandemic.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5ce9c7e80680e0736e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5d29c7e80680e0736e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><a href="https://www.rebuildkasthamandap.com/first_documented_mention/">The first documented mention of Kasthamandap </a>is from 1143 CE in a Namasangiti manuscript stored in Tibet’s Saskya Monastery. This discredited the common notion that Kasthamandap was built by Laxmi Narsingh Malla in the 17th century. In fact, <a href="https://www.dur.ac.uk/archaeology/research/projects/all/?mode=project&amp;id=939">results of an excavation done in 2016 </a>by the Department of Archaeology and Durham University puts the origins of the site even further back to the 7th century CE.Recent carbon dating also proved that a mekh (wooden joint) used in a wooden beam is even older -- from the 5th century. Archaeologists have not found any evidence that there was a structure here from that far back, and more site samples are needed. Archaeological digs have been delayed due to the pandemic and the cost of carbon dating.Says project manager Manindra Shrestha: “Because we only found excavation evidence from just the central foundation, Kasthamandap might have been smaller in size during the 7th century.”This is disputed by Yagya Man Pati Bajracharya, a Buddhist priest who says he is a descendant of the original builders. “The dimensions of Kasthamandap are ordained by religion, and that is supposed to be the way it is. I don’t think it was smaller in the past.”Bajracharya is an authority on the subject and correctly predicted that there would be a nine-celled mandala under the central cell of the Gorakhnath Shrine. Sure enough, the excavations proved there was indeed a nine pit mandap in the foundation.“That information was passed down from generation to generation by my ancestors,” Bajracharya said. “There were written records, but these were destroyed by Jang Bahadur Rana during one of his tantrums.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UZt1k1quDc&amp;feature=youtu.behttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5paviBHCYWA&amp;feature=youtu.beLike with every other structure in Kathmandu, the origins of Kasthamandap are also shrouded in myth and legend. Bajracharya thinks it was built during the Licchavi era by Lilabazra, a Buddhist priest and his own 43rd ancestor, as a rest house and mandap.Another popular legend suggests that Kasthamandap was built from the wood of a single tree. The tree god Kalpa Brikshya is supposed to have visited Kathmandu once to witness the Machindranath chariot festival in human disguise. One of the Buddhist tantric priests recognised him and imprisoned the sage who promised anything for his freedom. The people of Kathmandu asked for timber to build Kasthamandap, and being the god of trees himself, Kalpa Brichya magically created a massive tree enough to supply the Kasthamandap project.But even after Kasthamandap was erected, there was so much leftover timber that two more buildings were constructed nearby whose names give away their origins: Sin Lyon Sattah (rest house built with leftover wood) and Sin Khon Mu Baha (Buddhist monastic complex built with spare wood).“Kasthamandap’s destruction was to be expected, it was not at all well maintained and past renovations were done in a rush,” says Binita Magaiya, one of the architects involved in the reconstruction.In 1960, for example, Kasthamandap was hurriedly repaired with cement for the visit of Queen Elizabeth without much attention to traditional materials. Due to this, one of the keystones that held the columns was improperly placed, and parts of the timber beam that was underground had rotted. This could not hold the monument’s weight when the 2015 earthquake struck.Says Rajesh Shakya, the head of Kasthamandap Reconstruction Committee, “The traditional methods of construction would not have failed. Every joint and corner was originally designed to withstand earthquakes.”These were traditional seismic-resistant building techniques like having a copper shoe at the bottom of the timber columns to extend the life of the timber columns and stone bases to distribute the weight equally across the base were used, and these technique are being revived.With little to no architectural record of the original Kasthamandap, restoring the great structure from scratch was not easy. When the building came down, many of its elements were lost or mishandled. The Committee has been looking for some of the missing pieces for five years, Most of a priceless 6m wooden frieze with Buddhist-Hindu motifs was recovered, and is being reinstalled.“It was like a 3-D jigsaw puzzle, the picture does not come together even if one piece is lost,” explains Shrestha.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5d59c7e80680e0736e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="267"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Thankfully, German architect <a href="https://kasthamandapnepal.org.np/drawings/">Wolfgang Korn’s architectural drawings of Kasthamandap</a> contained  detailed measurements of Kasthamandap, and these proved invaluable in accurately recreating the structure.Restoration architects also relied on sketches, paintings and old scripts to come up with the blueprint. It was not just getting the design right that was difficult, there were also very few who still had the necessary skill sets for rebuilding.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914114/636ba5d69c7e80680e0736eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="244">“There are hardly any workers with traditional skills left in Kathmandu, and we have to bring craftsmen from Bhaktapur,” said Shrestha, adding that each part of the restoration process is being meticulously recorded for future generations.The saying goes in Kathmandu that the temples were for the gods, palaces were for kings, and the satal (rest house) was for ordinary people. And although the valley has many satal, Kasthamandap was the biggest of its kind. Even on 25 April 2015, it was serving as a venue for public charity event.Community effort was necessary in rebuilding a monument that had such great local significance. The resurrected Kasthamandap has also revived Kathmandu’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-the-intangible,3303">intangible heritage</a> of a sense of community and perhaps also the ancient cosmopolitanism of the pavilion.Tuladhar sums it up: “Kasthamandap was a home where everyone was welcomed, commoners and nobility, travelers and locals. It still embodies that spirit.”

Resurrecting Kasthamandap from the rubble

https://youtu.be/27DSJhsNLYgFive years after the earthquake destroyed its central temple, the 350-year-old Rani Pokhari royal pond at the centre of Kathmandu is finally getting back its original look.The temple had been rebuilt after previous earthquakes in the Moghul stucco dome style, and was going to be converted into a concrete-lined structure. But today, the shrine, the causeway and pond perimeter gleam with russet brick.Rani Pokhari has gone through many avatars in the past centuries. The earliest, an engraving commemorating the visit to Kathmandu by <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/on-queens-pond-rani-pokhari,4092">Prince Waldemar of Prussia</a> in 1845, shows the Balgopaleswar Temple having a Shikhara style spire. After it came down in an earthquake, Jang Bahadur Rana had it rebuilt with the Moghul dome architecture of north India that he admired so much.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badea9c7e80680e077fbejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="612" height="451"/><figcaption>Rani Pokhari from the German publication ‘Die Reise Seiner KöniglichenHoheit des PrinzenWaldemar von PreußennachIndien in den Jahren 1844 bis 1846’ (The journey of His Royal Highness Prince Waldemar of Prussia to India: in the years 1844 to 1846). The temple is in the original Shikhara style spire.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badec9c7e80680e077fbfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="679" height="379"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badee9c7e80680e077fc0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="628" height="386"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badf09c7e80680e077fc1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="627" height="384"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This structure came down again in the 1934 mega-quake, and Juddha Sumsher Rana had it reconstructed and whitewashed, adding a metal fence around the pond. This structure, too, was destroyed in the 2015 earthquake, and Kathmandu Mayor Bidya Sundar Shakya’s attempt to surround the pond with cafes and shops was <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/08/24/save-rani-pokhari/">vehemently opposed</a> by the local community.Finally, the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) is giving Rani Pokhari more or less its original look. After delays due to the lockdown, reconstruction is finally nearing completion.The pond was built in 1671 by King Pratap Malla after his consort, Queen Anantapriya was devastated by the sudden death of her son, Prince Chakrawatendra Malla. The king could not bear to see his queen so distraught, so he built Rani Pokhari to soothe her, and memorialise their lost son.It was an exquisite architectural and ecological masterpiece showcasing the meticulous craftsmanship of the Malla era. The pond was consecrated with the crystal clear waters from 51 sacred sites from all over the subcontinent.On the south side of the pond there still stands a statue of an elephant bearing King Pratap Malla and his two sons Chakrawatendra and Mahipatendra. Four smaller temples protect the central temple from the four cardinal points.Besides its beauty, the pond was also an engineering feat. It was fed by an intricate underground network of channels to keep it full throughout the year. It also served to manage the surface water around in the area during monsoon, so that runoff from as far as Asan market would empty into the pond and overflow past farmlands down to Tukucha Rivulet in the east.Because Rani Pokhari recharged ground water, it kept the water sources like hitis and wells in the surroundings flowing even in the dry season. The pond bed was lined with semi-permeable black clay (dyo cha) so it retained water but also allowed some of it to seep through. The pond thus served as a rainwater reservoir that not just replenished groundwater, but also irrigated nearby farms.“Rani Pokhari shaped the water management system around the area at that time,” says Sudarshan Tiwari, professor at the Institute of Engineering and a conservation architect.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badf19c7e80680e077fc2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="564"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badf49c7e80680e077fc3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Kathmandu Valley traditionally had an urban-rural symbiosis with densely-packed towns situated on higher ground, with intensive farming in the fertile soil below. The pond is a reminder of the wisdom of Kathmandu’s rulers who understood this ecological balance, as well as its cultural significance.“Since the day of its inauguration the pond was already considered a sacred site due to the temple in the centre and because water from 51 holy places were ceremonially poured into it,” says <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/deconstructing-reconstruction/">heritage conservationist Alok Siddhi Tuladhar</a>.After it was damaged again in the 2015 earthquake, President Bidya Devi Bhandari inaugurated the reconstruction of Rani Pokhari in January 2016. The Kathmandu Metropolitan City got a budget of Rs120 million for the job, but it started to line the perimeter with cement for shops, and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2016/09/01/unesco-concerned/">used concrete to rebuild the temple</a>. After opposition, the work was stopped and handed over to the NRA.“We wanted to make sure everyone involved had a say in the reconstruction, as the NRA is just a temporary organisation, so we formed a committee consisting of people from KMC, Department of Archaeology and local experts,” explained the NRA’s Sushil Gyawali.After much debate the NRA decided to rebuild the temple in the original 1671 Shikhara style, and also revive the original hydrological elements used in the pond. This was not an easy job. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/resurrecting-rani-pokhari-right/">Experts from Bhaktapur</a> were brought in to line the pond with black clay and bricks.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109141140/636badf79c7e80680e077fc4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The biggest challenge was to revive the previous water management system. The artesian wells and underground channels that fed the pond have dried up or have been destroyed by surrounding building construction.“We will do our best to fill the pond through natural means but we will have to take extreme measures if the plan fails,” explained Gyawali.One of those “extreme measures” was to start filling the pond last week with muddy water from a nearby tube well. But this was also stopped after local opposition.“It was a mistake. Rani Pokhari is a holy site and using tubewell water diminishes its religious, cultural and ecological value,” said Tuladhar. The NRA stopped using the tubewell water, but Gyewali says that even the heavy monsoon rains will not be enough to fill the pond.Other options are to use the trial feed from the Melamchi tunnel, or rainwater harvesting from the reconstructed Darbar High School and Tri Chandra College.Another problem might be that the bed of the pond is lined with trapezoid dachhi appa bricks and the gaps between them could over time be blocked by debris and prevent seepage of water for recharging.“This will not only defeat the purpose of recharging the underground channels but it will also make the pond dirty, so money has to be spent in cleaning it,” says Sudarshan Tiwari.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/draining-the-swamp/">Despite the compromises</a> during its reconstruction, Rani Pokhari has become a symbol of what proper restoration should look like. Relentless activism and communities uniting to preserve this heritage has saved  Kathmandu’s past for its future.

Building back Rani Pokhari even better

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

The return of the natives

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

The rise of high-rises

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

Kathmandu’s gravity-defying chariot festival

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

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