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I went to Lucknow in Uttar Pradesh, India, for the first time in 1994. I was fascinated by the Bhool Bhulaiya in Bara Imambara. I got lost in its seemingly endless, interconnected labyrinth of tunnels and enjoyed discovering all the nooks and crannies, with their little windows that looked out to streets teeming with rickshaws and ice-cream vendors. I also especially enjoyed the famous kulfi at Prakash Kulfi in the busy streets of Animabad, a stone’s throw away from Hazratgunj, a shopper’s paradise and the capital and largest city of India’s Uttar Pradesh. 

Thereafter, Lucknow meant a life-sized puzzle and kulfi by the plateful and that is perhaps how my parents lured me there year after year. They had both gone to college in Lucknow and would revisit friends almost every year. After a while though, I had had enough and vowed never to go to Lucknow. I felt like I had seen everything I had to see and knew all the alleys like the back of my hands. I would argue with my father, who seems to have left a little bit of himself back in the busy, noisy city, every time he’d suggest visiting Lucknow. But I ended up in Lucknow many times later in life and each time, I discovered something that would sort of lure me back again. 

It’s a city that has everything, from beautiful historical sights to wonderful eateries and shopping options. I like the Rumi Darwaza, and go there every time I’m in Lucknow. The gateway, built in 1784, is 60 feet tall and is located between the Bara Imambara and the Chota Imambara. Earlier it used to mark the entrance to Old Lucknow but now it’s just a nice spot to take in the surroundings. 

Shopping at Aminabad is another highlight of Lucknow. It’s a busy area with many roadside eateries, random stalls, and vendors selling everything from sunglasses and kitchen wares to leather bags and belts. Clothes with chikankari work, a type of hand embroidery done on sheer fabrics like muslin and georgette, is the speciality of this market. It’s also a good place to get home decor items like rugs, cushion covers, bedsheets, etc. at reasonable prices.

The good thing about Lucknow is that it makes for a quick escape. You can reach Lucknow from the border town of Rupaidiha near Nepalgunj. You can fly to Nepalgunj from Kathmandu and take a rickshaw or taxi to the border and then hire a private vehicle there to take you to Lucknow. The fare is around InRs 3,000 and you will reach Lucknow in around four hours. The road is smooth, making the trip hassle free. 

You will have to go through a rigorous checking at the border point. The authorities stationed there are sometimes downright hostile and handle your baggage roughly, poking and probing through your things. The best thing to do is to keep quiet and let them do their jobs. I’ve seen people argue with them and they have been held back. But in the last few years, their behavior has gotten better. They only seem to check your bags if something looks suspicious. The last few times, we have been allowed to pass without having to open our luggages. But everything is totally dependent on their moods so you actually never know. 

However, this is the only annoying aspect of the journey. Everything else is smooth, easy, and economical. You can also take a taxi to Ayodhya directly from Rupaidiha. The journey takes around four hours too. This time, we went to Ayodhya from Rupaidiha and then took another taxi from Ayodhya to Lucknow after spending three days in Ayodhya. The fares were cheaper on inDrive compared to randomly booking a taxi or asking the hotel for the service. Ayodhya to Lucknow is roughly around a two-hour drive. But if you are planning to go to Ayodhya any time soon, I’d recommend you wait a couple of years. 

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Ayodhya is a city that’s being built. Think Kathmandu during the Melamchi project. Everything is under construction so the city has a dusty aura. Even the famous Ram Mandir is being built and only a small section is accessible at the moment. There are restaurants and hotels being constructed as well. Every hotel has a few rooms up and running while the rest is being made. No matter where you stay, you’re going to be up till late and up early because of noisy construction. I would have enjoyed my trip a lot more had I gone a few years down the line.

Having said that, Ayodhya wasn’t disappointing. There’s not much to do yet except temple visits but I guess that’s the whole point of the city anyway. We visited the Ram Janmabhoomi that many Hindus believe to be the birthplace of Lord Ram. It gets crowded during the day so make sure you go early or in the evenings. We went around 9:30 am and we came out of the temple premises a little over an hour later when it was just starting to get busy. 

Though this temple was the reason we went to Ayodhya in the first place, the other temples were far more interesting. We met a local who told us if we didn’t go to Kanak Bhawan our trip to Ayodhya would be incomplete. “We believe this is the place where God comes to rest,” he said. And indeed, the vibe at Kanak Bhawan and other temples like the Hanuman Garhi Mandir was calming and spiritual. We even sat through a bhajan session at Kanak Bhawan and it was a meditative experience unlike any other. 

There are many vegetarian eateries that open early for breakfast in the temple area. The food is fresh and delicious. We had our fill of idlis and dosas. Every place would be packed and we would have to struggle to find a table but our order came quickly and the food was worth the hassle. There are a lot of stalls and stores selling clothes and curios but make sure you haggle if you shop at these places. Most of the vendors will give you what you want for half the quoted price. 

Another thing you must do in Ayodhya is visit the Lata Mangeshkar chowk. It’s a hard to miss place since you might have to pass through it to get to the temples but make sure you get off there and stroll around. A huge sculpture of a sitar takes center stage at the chowk and it’s surrounded by murals of various scenes of the Ramayana. You can easily spend a few hours just looking at all the fabulous art. 

All in all, Ayodhya and Lucknow make for good short trips that you might want to consider when you don’t have the luxury of a long holiday but still want to go somewhere exciting. If you want to go to both these places then you should plan a week long trip. But if you want to visit only one place at a time, three days for Ayodhya and four days for Lucknow should be enough.

Shanti Silwal is a burn violence survivor. She is the mother of a seven-year-old who, she says, makes her happy to be alive. At 41, she’s braved life’s roughest storms but she says it’s not made her bitter, and for that she is grateful to “her spirit that refuses to give up”.

“I don’t want people to look at me and feel sorry for me. I want them to look at me and see a strong, determined woman,” says Silwal, who suffered above 40 percent burn when her husband set her on fire following an altercation 13 years ago.

The scars have healed. The pain remains. It’s something she will never forget. It’s limited the opportunities she would have gotten had she not had debilitating scars on her face and body. But Silwal is brave enough not to let her scars define her.

Under Inara, a social enterprise by Astitwa Nepal, an organization that supports and rehabilitates survivors of acid and burn violence, she has participated in multiple trainings to pick up skills that can help her create a good life for her son and herself. What caught her interest was jewelry making, she says. A few years ago, she participated in a workshop where she learned how to make earrings and bracelets.

“I can make 50 simple bracelets or 10 pairs of earrings in an hour,” she says, the pride evident in her sparkling eyes. It wasn’t always so easy though, she adds. A handmade earring might look simple but you need to know how to use the tools and have good hand-eye coordination to make a decent pair. Also, two pieces in a pair need to be exact replicas of each other and that is difficult to achieve.

Trisha Pradhananga, program and operation officer at Inara, says Silwal is extremely talented as well as quick and eager to learn. She is able to complete orders that take others a week or more in just a day or two. Her attitude and approach towards her work is inspiring, says Pradhananga.

Silwal says she can function on very little sleep if she has work. She is driven by her need to do more and to do better. It has always been like that. Work, she says, is worship. Even as a child, Silwal was a go-getter who had to excel in the simple tasks her guardians asked her to do.

Driven by the motto that no work is small and that everything you do must be done with passion and a sense of gratefulness at being able to use your mind and body, Silwal tackles work with commendable zeal. She goes to bed at midnight and wakes up at six in the morning or even earlier depending on her workload. The early hours are for prayers, chores, and getting her son ready for school. The rest of the day is for working on the orders—making customized earrings and bracelets.

Pradhananga says the pieces Silwal makes are good. Even though she works fast, she doesn’t compromise on the quality of the products. Inara too wants to ensure the quality is maintained so that those who buy them get their money’s worth. “We want people who shop at Inara to feel like they are supporting a cause as well as investing in really good pieces of jewelry,” she says.

This is how training and workshops have been able to help. Burn violence survivors get to learn different crafts like jewelry making, pottery, macrame, etc. which provides them with income generating skills. Silwal says they have been a boon to her.

“I try to participate in as many workshops as I can so that I can learn new skills and use them to increase my income,” says Silwal as an instructor shows her how to create neat layers on a bead necklace at a recent workshop organized by Inara.

Out of the eight participants, Silwal was the first to complete a five-layered necklace and to do so without having made any mistakes. She then helped other participants, while also berating them for wasting time and resources when they spilled beads on the floor or used excess thread and wire only to eventually cut and toss them in the bin. The two trainers at the event agreed she could very well have been one of them.

“I have always disliked wasteful behavior and believe we must respect the things we have to live a prosperous life,” says Silwal. Having always struggled with not having enough in life, she believes you must make the best of what you’ve got. She’s also a firm believer in the power of hard work. It never goes unnoticed and unappreciated, she says.

However, Silwal admits that she loves the financial freedom her work gives her. As a burn survivor, it’s difficult to get work. They aren’t hired as receptionists or in positions where they have to deal with a lot of people. The society today has a much broader outlook but biases run deep. The changes in people’s attitude towards burn survivors, Silwal says, is superficial. Their scorn is masked by sympathy or rarely empathy.

“So I’m happy to be doing what I’m doing. I love making things and it brings in some money for me to be able to buy what I need and want,” she says. She doesn’t have to ask anyone for money. She is able to eat out when she’s bored of homemade food or doesn’t feel like cooking. She has even managed to save a little and that puts her mind at ease. “Being able to earn has also made me confident. I don’t fear the future like I once used to. I know whatever happens I’ll be able to manage things on my own,” she concludes.

Ranjan Adiga, whose debut short story collection ‘Leech and Other Stories’ was published by Penguin Random House India in April this year, says he has always felt like an outsider. Though his family has lived in Nepal for generations, a unique last name meant he was never Nepali enough. “My family moved to Bangkok when I was 10. I couldn’t speak in English properly, let alone Thai, and I felt out of place there too,” he says. Later, in college in India, despite having been mistaken as an Indian all his life, he struggled to fit in. Since then, he’s lived in Bahrain and the US but both these places never felt like home.  “My life story is that I’ve always been an outsider,” he says. 

In a conversation with Cilla Khatry of ApEx, he says perhaps that’s the reason why he is drawn to stories of outsiders—people who live on the margins of society, those who are trying to find their way or those who feel like they have been left out in some ways. Excerpts:

What is your writing process? Do you have a writing ritual?

I don’t wait for inspiration to strike. Over the years, I have tried to build a writing habit. I try to write every single day, even if it’s just for 15 minutes. Writing is a craft. You have to work on it. I don’t have the luxury of deciding when I’ll write. There is no fixed time so I’ll snatch whatever I can get. Sometimes, I just doodle or write rubbish but I’ll still sit at my desk and try to write. I believe the habit of writing has to be ingrained in your personality and for that a writer has to sit down and write every day. It’s okay even if you just stare at the screen for 15 minutes but you have to sit down and be thinking about the story and be willing to construct sentences.

How long do you take to write a story?

Every story is different. Some stories take time. Others come together really fast. Every story is several drafts in the making. Writing is rewriting. You have to keep chipping away at it. ‘A Short Visit’ was put together in two weeks as my agent didn’t like one of the stories I had submitted and my publisher wasn’t sure about it either. They gave me two weeks to write a new one. Usually, it takes me months to complete a story. I based it on my friend’s experience, changed the names, and tweaked the details. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long once I had the plot in my head. For others, where I have to build the plot as I go, it takes a while.

What compels you to write short stories?

I really love the concept of capturing the complexities of lives and characters in a shorter format. I also find it easier to write short stories than to write something longer. Some say writing short stories is difficult. You have to pack everything in a more concise form but I feel like I have much more control over the stories I’m telling. If something is not working, I can just scrap it. You have more chances to fail and pick yourself up again.

Why do you think stories are important in today’s society?

Stories are important because that is how people learn about other cultures and representation is so important. I think Nepal is underrepresented in South Asian literature. Most people have a stereotypical view of Nepal. Either they haven’t heard about the country or they start talking about Buddhism or the Himalayas. I wanted to represent the complex stories of Nepali life, and I was thinking about the western audience when I was writing my book.

We learn to be empathetic and connect with people who aren’t like us through stories. You can’t live multiple lives but you get a taste of what different lives feel like through fictional characters. And not to forget that knowledge comes through narratives, be it through TV shows, movies, or books.

In short stories, you don’t need to flesh out the characters as much as you would in a longer piece of fiction. What is your technique in getting people to care about these characters?

People relate to other people’s internal conflicts and vulnerabilities. No one likes someone who is perfect all the time. Those people don’t exist. It’s hard to relate to cardboard cutout characters, especially in this Instagram age where everyone is trying to put up their best faces in public. When I write, I try to tap into the character’s weaknesses and traits that make them human and relatable. Every character has some sort of inner turmoil that they are trying to navigate. It makes readers care about them even if they don’t like the character. I try to tap into the vulnerabilities to create an emotional bond that makes the readers connect with them.

Is writing cathartic?

Some stories can be cathartic and some stories give you more turmoil. Sometimes when I write a story, I feel like I need therapy after completing it. ‘Denver’ and ‘A Short Visit’ made me feel like that. On the other hand, writing some stories gives me a sense of release. It’s almost like writing a journal as you have communicated something that is deep within you. Writing is tough because it’s indirectly putting yourself on the page. But the good thing about fiction is you can render your thoughts and feelings through a different character, create a distance, and examine your emotions that way.

All writers draw from their own experience or from what they see around them. How do you toe the line between the stories being personal and fictionalizing them?

You have to confront your fears while writing. That is what gives humanity and power to your work. But the good thing about fiction is that it gives you the room to be imaginative and to add or make things up. Everything shouldn’t be taken as being the author’s point of view. I’m not writing to vent. I want my stories to be captivating so I have to think about them from the reader’s perspective. Only then will I be compelled to start playing around with a story. Even though a particular scene might mean a lot to me, it means nothing if it’s not serving the story. I try to make sure that even if the characters aren’t questioning and examining their biases, the story does that for them.

Are you afraid of feedback and criticism?

A writer has to be his/her own critic. You have to be able to look at your work objectively. It comes with experience and training. It’s something you develop. I workshop my stories with the students of the creative writing class I teach in the US. They read and give me feedback. Some of them have been really scathing but it has taught me to take criticism in my stride. Also, if you’re putting your work out there, you have to have a thick skin. I have faced so many rejections that it has taught me not to take things personally. A rejection doesn’t necessarily mean your work is bad. It might mean it’s not right for the publisher you have approached.

Do you have writer’s block? How do you deal with it?

Don’t all writers have writer’s block? I was writing for eight to 10 hours a day for about six months while working on my short story collection. There are 10 stories in the book but I must have written around 25. Some of the stories are new ones that I wrote from scratch while others are drafts that went through major revisions. Whenever I couldn’t work on a certain story, I let it be and worked on something else and went back to it later. That often did the trick. Other times, I wrote about not being able to write and got into the flow of writing that way.

What’s the best piece of writing advice you have been given?

I had a teacher who would always ask, “What’s at stake for the main character? What’s the big picture? Why should I care about your story?” It took a long time to understand what he meant. Initially when I started writing, I was immature and thus possessive about my stories. Now, I always try to ensure that a character has enough emotional frequency to be relatable. I’m not afraid of ‘killing my darlings’ or deleting lines or paragraphs that I think are absolute genius if they aren’t working for the story.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

You don’t have to go to a creative writing college to learn how to write. It helps but it’s not necessary. But you have to read and do so indiscriminately. Read, revise, and reflect—these are the 3Rs of being a good writer. Read different genres, and authors of various nationalities and gender. Don’t be afraid of revisions. Your first draft should never be your final draft. If you can find someone, preferably a reader, to go through your work and give you feedback, there is nothing as valuable as that. Then, you have to reflect on things and analyze your thoughts and actions. You don’t learn from experience. You learn by reflecting on them. This is an invaluable tool to give your writing the nuance it needs.

Which are some of your favorite books? 

There are plenty but let’s start with short stories as most of my literary heroes are short story writers. There’s Anton Chekhov and Raymond Carver who are absolute geniuses. I love short stories by Bernard Malamud. He’s an American Jewish author whose works explore the immigrant experience. ‘How We Fight for Our Lives’ by Saeed Jones is a coming-of-age memoir. Jones is a poet and when a poet writes prose, it’s a whole other thing. A poet, I think, will spend days on a line and make it perfect.

I also enjoy reading Bhupi Sherchan. I think he was especially good at capturing character details. I like everything Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has written. Her writing is simple but she tackles important issues. ‘Purple Hibiscus’ is one of my favorites. It would be remiss if I didn’t mention Samrat Upadhay for telling stories about Nepal and inspiring me to do the same. ‘Dopesick’ by Beth Macy is a non-fiction book about the opioid addiction in America. This book taught me the value of research.

Kathmandu has always struggled to manage its waste. Hopes were pinned on the city mayor Balen Shah’s plans to segregate waste at source. But around 200 vehicles still dump garbage at Banchare Danda every day. Much of the collected waste—around 1,200 tons daily—ends up in the landfill. Those who work in waste management say Banchare Danda is fated to go the Sisdol way. What we now have is only a temporary respite to the city’s trash problems as the focus continues to be on dumping. 

However, experts say this could change if Nepalis become conscious of what they throw and how. Kiran Shrestha of Action Waste Pvt. Ltd. says the weight and bulk of trash have been steadily increasing as Nepalis toss things that needn’t be thrown away. Clothes, books, utensils, and electronics, among other things, are regular items in the trash Action Waste collects from its designated areas of Anamnagar and Seto Pul in Kathmandu.

On the surface, many people seem to have adopted eco-friendly lifestyles. Millennials increasingly favor brands that promote sustainability. Though the market for eco-friendly products is yet to become mainstream, there is no dearth of businesses that promote sustainability. Unfortunately, most consumers are buying and thus throwing more stuff as they try to switch to greener alternatives.

A passing trend 

“Sustainability has become a passing trend in Nepal and that’s worsening our trash problem,” says Anjana Malla, founder of Deego Nepal, a brand that provides eco-friendly alternatives for daily use items. Malla says there’s a lack of slow and responsible consumption. People easily tire of what they have and they want something new, even though old items work perfectly well. 

“If you are throwing away, say, a water bottle just because it’s made of plastic and getting a glass one in its place, you are creating more waste. That isn’t the principle of sustainability. That’s not being eco-friendly,” she says. What you can and should do is use what you have for as long as you can and then invest in eco-friendly options when you have to replace something. 

But that is not what is happening. Rupak Parajuli, the owner of Hempko, a business that provides sustainable and eco-friendly products, says there are very few conscious consumers. Most buy things on a whim. He believes this mindset, where the emphasis isn’t on the durability of a product but rather on its attractiveness, is the reason behind the increasing volume of waste.

It’s not unusual for people to have multiples of everything. We buy things as they look attractive or they are cheap. Most of these items often sit unused in forgotten corners of our homes. The products expire or the novelty wears off and we get rid of them. Parajuli says we are driven by materialistic aspirations. The more you have, the more you want, and the more you eventually throw away. 

Intention-action gap 

“We blame the government for our inefficient waste disposal system but we must first look at our own problematic behavior,” says Parajuli. We look for an easy way out, choosing to replace something rather than repair it. We want newer models of items that we already have. It doesn’t help that the market is saturated with products of all kinds. Parajuli adds that people are aware of the importance of leading a sustainable lifestyle and the intent is there too but there is a gap between intention and action. 

Nitesh Sharma, founder of Dhaaso, an upcycling company, says people like the idea of being eco-friendly and sustainable. But they also prefer the fine finish of factory-made products and the convenience of disposable items. Dhaaso was launched eight years ago and Sharma laments that it is still difficult to educate people about the need to upcycle to keep something from being sent to the landfill. 

“Our customers know Dhaaso upcycles and that our products are made from discarded materials. It can never be as good as mass-manufactured products. But we’ve still had five order cancellations in the past week,” says Sharma, adding that there’s a disconnect between ideals and aspirations. 

As Nepal imports most things, fixing them is sometimes impossible. The required parts aren’t easily available. This also contributes to a lot of waste. At the moment, there is enough scrap in Kathmandu junkyards to last 20 to 30 years, says Sharma. Buying locally made products could change this but people tend to prefer either branded goods or cheap Chinese knockoffs. 

Kushal Acchami of Samsara Creation says we need a comprehensive approach to waste management, one that highlights the necessity of reusing what we have to serve different purposes. Manu Karki, founder of Eco Sathi Nepal, says people aren’t being creative with household items which is why every slightly damaged piece makes its way to the dumpster. 

“You can use a chipped ceramic jug or a mug as a planter. You can repurpose an old bottle into a vase. You can turn bits of fabric into pot holders,” she says. But people either don’t have the time or don’t want to put in the extra effort. “The result is a use-and-throw culture that doesn’t align with the principles of sustainability,” adds Acchami. 

The way out 

Nepal lacks the resources for large-scale recycling. There are some companies, like Doko Recyclers and Khalisisi, that provide recycling facilities but they don’t handle large volumes of waste. Raghavendra Nahto, co-founder of Doko Recyclers, says his company handles less than a percent of the waste Kathmandu generates daily. In the past five years, says Mahto, little has changed in the way Kathmandu manages its waste. 

Reducing waste at source is the only way to tackle the growing problem of waste management, he says. He believes we need a national-level campaign to make people aware of the implications of their wasteful behavior. Parajuli, on the other hand, thinks programs in schools and colleges on the importance of being eco-friendly can bring slow change in the way we shop. “We need to have more conversations on sustainability and how we can incorporate it into our current lifestyle. We need a movement,” he says. 

Three basic ways to embrace sustainability 

1. Use what you have 

According to Karki of Eco Sathi Nepal, many people think being eco-friendly means not using plastic. So, they get rid of plastic bottles and containers. The basic principle of sustainability is to prolong the life of what you have. Plastic, she adds, isn’t the villain here. Our mentality that we must get rid of them anyhow is the problem. 

Giving away what you don’t need instead of putting it in the dustbin can also help, says Malla of Deego Nepal. “We can donate the things we don’t need if they are in good condition. After all, one man’s trash could be another man’s treasure,” she says.  

2. Don’t buy single-use items

Disposable cups, water bottles, plates, and straws are all very convenient to use but they create a lot of waste. Malla says people these days use disposable plates and cutlery even when hosting parties at home. Restaurants too are wasteful. Most of them have tie-ups with various water bottling companies and serve mineral water instead of regular tap water. It generates a lot of unnecessary plastic waste at the end of the day. “Individuals and businesses both need to be mindful of this. Unfortunately, most businesses are purely commercial and not very ethical,” she says. 

3. Be a conscious consumer  

Before buying anything, ask yourself if you need it. Oftentimes, we buy stuff as we are bored or they look appealing. But a new notebook isn’t going to change your life. Neither is a new bag going to significantly uplift your ensemble. So, consider your purchases. When you inevitably have to replace something, look for eco-friendly alternatives. 

“Shopping local is one of the ways in which people can embrace sustainability. When you buy products that are made in Nepal you are already reducing your carbon footprint,” says Parajuli of Hempko.

In 2006, Radha Shrestha and her mother suffered severe third-degree burns when a gas cylinder exploded in their one-bedroom home. Their treatment began only on the third day when they were shifted to Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital (SKMH) in Sankhu. Shrestha’s mother passed away and she was discharged after 39 days. 

Doctors attending to them said her mother’s death could have been prevented had she received immediate medical attention. Nearly two decades on, the situation remains much the same. Most hospitals in Nepal are still ill-equipped to handle burn cases, causing inevitable delays in case of emergencies. 

Dr Binod Karn, associate professor of plastic surgery at Nepalgunj Medical College, says the government hasn’t given much attention to burn care. A few NGOs and INGOs conduct awareness and training programs and give medical assistance, and that’s about it. 

Burns are the second most common injuries in Nepal. They are the most debilitating too. Treatment often lasts years, with victims requiring multiple surgeries. There are roughly 50,000 injuries and 21,000 deaths due to burns every year. Nepal is ranked number one in the list of countries with the highest rate of mortality by fire-related accidents.

Burn cases are mostly accidental and sometimes even homicidal and suicidal. In winter, most burn cases are 50-plus women who sit with their backs to the fire to keep themselves warm. In summer, electrical burns among metal workers are the most frequent cases. Suicidal and homicidal cases in Nepal are frequently related to dowry. Sometimes, women, frustrated by nagging and abuse, set themselves alight but usually, it’s the in-laws who burn them.

Most burn cases are referred to Kathmandu. Dr Karn says Nepalgunj Medical College can handle cases with 20 percent burn. Anything above that is either referred to Kirtipur Hospital or SKMH in the capital city. Many patients can’t afford the transport cost. Treatment is expensive. The survival rate, he says, is also low. A patient with a 20 to 30 percent burn has only a 20 to 30 percent chance of survival. 

“Burn treatment is complex and most hospitals aren’t equipped for it,” says Dr Karn. There should be a separate hospital or at least a dedicated burn unit in each hospital. The medical staff also needs burn-focused training. He says every province should have at least one proper burn unit or hospital. “We can save many lives if there were at least three burn units in Nepal to begin with—one for provinces one and two; one for three and four; and one for provinces five, six, and seven,” he says. 

Dr Santosh Bikram Bhandari, a burn, plastic, reconstructive, and cosmetic surgeon at SKMH, says the hospital handles over 100 burn cases every month. Though it has a separate burn ward and the government provides an allowance for free burn treatment, they are not enough to cater to all the needs of burn patients. 

Experts say most burn cases emanate from the lower socio-economic strata. The families from these strata cannot afford expensive surgeries that follow an incident. There have been cases of families taking loans or selling their meager assets to fund treatment—driving them deeper into poverty.  

Dr Bhandari says there is a lack of awareness on the management of burn injuries among the public as well as medical personnel. Poverty, he says, is the biggest strain. Many people simply don’t have access to alternatives to firewood. Saris catching fire while cooking is a common occurrence in rural areas. 

“Lack of knowledge on fire safety as well as first aid is appalling. People have wrong concepts about what to do after a burn injury and that often makes it worse,” says Dr Bhandari. 

The government remains oblivious to the sufferings of burn victims. After Nepali Congress leader Chandra Bhandari and his mother were injured in a gas cylinder explosion, burns became a much-discussed topic at ministerial meetings, says Dr Bhandari, with the authorities promising to give everything needed to establish a state-of-the-art burn care unit at SKMH. But the talks, he adds, soon fizzled out and nothing happened. 

Dr Prakash Budathoki, spokesperson for the Ministry of Health and Population, says the government’s priority is communicable diseases and other ailments that regularly claim more lives. But burn cases are also on their radar. They have separated a budget for the burn ward at Bir Hospital. The ministry is also working on a plan to run awareness programs and training in all seven provinces.

Dr Bhandari, however, insists that the government isn’t serious about burns. Despite repeated lobbying for better policies to ease the load of burn treatment, the government has done little. “It’s not difficult to have a separate burn treatment fund if the government is willing,” he says. 

Burns, in Nepal, are usually the result of gas explosions, petroleum-related incidents, and electrical malfunctions or accidents. The government can bring a policy where one rupee extra is charged per cylinder and fuel refill, and 0.1 percent of the total electrical bill is levied on each customer—and all of it goes to building a national burn treatment fund. “The government can easily make burn treatment accessible and save lives if it wants to,” says Dr Bhandari. 

Archana Ranjit, a nursing officer at Tribhuvan University Teaching Hospital, has years of experience working with burn patients. She agrees with Dr Bhandari and says government involvement is crucial in tackling burn cases as they require extensive care and facilities. “When patients are forced to move from one hospital to the next due to the lack of all necessary facilities under one roof, there is a delay in treatment, which is sometimes fatal. In the case of burn injuries, the earlier the victim gets treated, the better the chances of survival and healing after surgery,” says Ranjit. 

In 2020, 21-year-old Nabaraj BK and five of his friends were murdered following BK’s attempt to elope with his girlfriend. The 17-year-old girl was an ‘upper caste’. Despite being criminalized in 2011, caste discrimination continues to be prevalent in Nepal. But, on  Dec 5, 2023, the West Rukum District Court sentenced 24 individuals in connection with the case to life imprisonment. Two other perpetrators were each slapped with two years of jail sentence and a fine of Rs 50,000 for the crime of untouchability. But can the milestone verdict be a deterrent for discriminatory practices in our society?

“Caste discrimination is a mindset. One verdict won’t bring about the kind of attitudinal shift that’s necessary to end it,” says Tanka Bahadur Bishwokarma, executive director of Dalit Welfare Organization (DWO), an NGO. According to the annual report published by the Ministry of Home Affairs, Nepal Police registered 39 cases of caste-based discrimination in the fiscal year 2020-21 compared to 29 in the previous one. Bishwokarma says Dalit rights are regularly violated but most cases go unreported. “People don’t want to report discrimination as they feel it’s a lot of hassle and will yield no result,” he says.

Dalits are subjected to social exclusion. They are denied access to temples, and homes of the so-called ‘upper caste’. In many places, they aren’t allowed to fetch water from communal taps. The stuff they touch is considered impure, and people refuse to eat or drink ‘contaminated’ food and water. They aren’t invited to weddings and religious ceremonies. In rare cases where they are, they are often asked to sit separately. Infraction of caste boundaries leads to violence in many cases.

A rapid assessment report of the situation of Dalit communities following the 2015 earthquakes in Nepal found that Dalits were discriminated against during the distribution of relief materials. They got less aid than those from ‘higher-ranking’ castes. The assessment team found discrimination limited Dalit’s access to shelter, food, health, water, and sanitation. An Amnesty International report released after the earthquake also raised concerns over caste discrimination in relief work in Nepal.

Discrimination might not be as blatant as it once was, especially in urban areas. But it makes its presence felt in various covert ways. Dalits are routinely denied rooms for rent. In 2021, Rupa Sunar, a journalist, was refused a flat as she was from a ‘lower caste’. The police didn’t register the complaint at first, doing so only after the case got public attention. The accused, Saraswati Pradhan of Babar Mahal, Kathmandu, was then taken into custody. But the then Minister of Education, Science, and Technology, Krishna Gopal Shrestha, went to the station in his official car and had Pradhan released. He even posed for a photo with her in front of the media and drove her home.

The problem is caste discrimination is not considered a serious offense, say activists. It’s often even justified in the name of tradition. There is a lot of political pressure to let things slide when cases do come out. Even in Nabaraj BK’s murder case, the odds were stacked against justice. Senior advocate Dinesh Tripathi says justice prevailed despite resistance, enhancing the court’s credibility. He hopes the case will set a good precedent and pave the way for the building of a society with zero tolerance for discrimination.

On paper, Nepal’s anti-Dalit discrimination laws are strong and progressive. In 1969, Nepal signed the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination. In 2006, it was declared an untouchability- and discrimination-free country. In 2011, the country criminalized caste discrimination. Article 24 and 40 of the constitution of Nepal 2015 has provisions against discrimination and ensures Dalit’s political, economic, and social rights. 

However, caste discrimination is a prominent feature of social interactions. The government regularly fails to prosecute individuals who engage in it. Dalit Rights Activists say the police often try to mediate conflicts stemming from discrimination instead of registering FIRs. They aren’t considered human rights violations but mere altercations, says Bishwokarma. “The sense of impunity is strong and it gives people the power to discriminate.”

A maid, who works in Ratopul in Kathmandu, on the condition of anonymity, says her employers will be furious if they find out she’s a ‘damai’—a caste categorized as ‘untouchable’ in our society. “I have changed my surname. Nobody will give me work if I tell them my real name,” she says. She lives in constant fear of being exposed. Most families she works for are clear about their preferences: they will reluctantly accept ‘pani chalne jaat’ (those from whom you can accept water) to do their chores if Brahmin or Chhetri maids aren’t available.

Tula Narayan Shah, a political analyst, says centuries-old caste discrimination is rooted in tradition whereas governance and judiciary are relatively new structures. Nepal’s first written law, the Muluki Ain (National Code), came into effect in 1854 and was based on the caste system. A new Muluki Ain was promulgated in 1963. It had relatively more caste-neutral language and outlawed certain forms of discrimination. The first constitution of Nepal, with anti-discriminatory clauses, was only introduced in 1948.

“The issues of race, gender, class, caste, etc. all stem from an unwillingness to let go of old customs and an ineffective implementation of new rules and regulations. It’s a global phenomenon,” he says.

Tripathi, the senior advocate, says fear of the law is important to end caste discrimination. The victory in Nabaraj BK’s case has sent a strong message in favor of equality. But it’s important to give continuity to the activism and solidarity that was shown in this case. Shah also asserts the need for stronger activism for aggressive implementation of anti-discriminatory laws. He believes there is less caste discrimination today than a couple of decades ago but the progress is mostly limited to urban areas where in-migration has led to a healthy mixing of cultures.

Nabin BK, admin and finance officer at DWO, says social media has made caste discrimination pervasive. Earlier, people had to say things face-to-face. There would be, if not much, a slight hesitation. But now, anyone anywhere can say whatever s/he wants to, through Facebook comments, posts, and online content. Everybody who has an opinion can put it out there. “People are quick to act on and defend their biases. They do so with reckless abandon as they are behind a screen; it gives them so much power,” says BK.

On the other hand, Sabitra Pariyar of the Feminist Dalit Organization, another NGO, believes discrimination persists as people know there will be no repercussions. There is also little participation and representation of Dalits in politics which means their issues are largely unnoticed or sidelined. Worse is the fact that our religion makes allowance for discrimination—against women and Dalits alike, she adds. “Discrimination is still how people in our society assert their superiority,” she says, adding the only way to change that is effective implementation of stricter laws that penalize discrimination. Unless that happens, Dalits, relegated to the lowest rung of society, will continue to face unimaginable atrocities.

Home is a safe space. But not for everyone. It’s often a hostile ground for LGBTIQA+ individuals. Most are harassed and abused when they come out. When violence happens at home, where do you go? When your family doesn’t accept you, who do you turn to?

A little over a year ago, a 15-year-old trans girl died by suicide. According to Pinky Gurung, president of Blue Diamond Society (BDS), Nepal’s oldest queer rights organization, the girl was being harassed at home after disclosing her gender identity. Two years before her death, she had written a letter to BDS mentioning how her family was mistreating her.

“Most cases of violence aren’t reported as people don’t want to complain against their family members,” says Gurung. Sometimes, these individuals reach out to organizations like BDS or those from the community. But, Gurung adds, family counseling and mediation can do only so much in the absence of strict laws.

Nepal, despite its pro-queer global image, struggles with the acceptance of different gender identities. Despite progressive constitutional provisions, members of the community face all kinds of discrimination. This limits their access to proper healthcare, education, employment opportunities, and legal protection. Dignity becomes a dream.

Discrimination, LGBTIQA+ people agree, starts at home. Families try to ‘cure’ them when they finally muster up the courage to open up. Many are taken to see the doctor and prescribed antidepressants. When that doesn’t ‘set them straight’, beating them into submission is considered another option. 

“Discrimination paves the way for domestic and sexual violence,” says Sunita Lama, a transgender rights activist and sex worker. She adds the violence that LGBTIQA+ people experience stems from rigid and hierarchical ideas about sex, gender, and sexuality.

In a study conducted by UN Women, four in five LGBTIQA+ respondents said they had experienced at least one incident of violence. Out of 1,181 respondents, 81 percent reported being victims of violence based on their gender identity or sexual orientation, with 71 percent experiencing emotional violence, 46 percent physical violence, 46 percent sexual violence, and 40 percent economic violence.

The report, titled ‘Evidence to action: Addressing violence against LGBTIQA+ people in Nepal’, further stated that violence was compounded by factors such as socioeconomic status, disability, and caste or ethnicity. The report added that the LGBTIQA+ community, besides battling plenty of stigmas, faces problems related to legal protection, gender recognition, and marriage equality, all of which increase their hardships.

Manisha Dhakal, executive director of BDS, says there isn’t much information, data, or studies on the community. Even in the case of the few studies that have been carried out, there is no follow up. Despite the LGBTIQA+ people regularly facing violence—at home, on the streets, at the workplace—little is being done to tackle it.

Domestic violence largely implies violence against women. The LGBTIQA+ community finds itself sidelined here too. There is no proper mechanism for reporting violence, says Gurung. The police are usually indifferent—refusing to take down their complaints and going as far as to blame the victims.

Lama says the situation is worse for sex workers. There have been times the authorities have refused to believe they could be at the receiving end of violence. The common mindset is that transgenders are aggressive. “The police would rather just lock us up than listen to us,” she says.

There have been a lot of campaigns and programs against violence but most of these have only addressed violence against women, claims the LGBTIQA+ community. The media, rights activists, and the government all have a role to play in this. There is extensive reporting and response to violence against women in comparison to violence against other forms of gender. 

“There’s no denying that our society, at large, is still uncomfortable with queerness,” says Lama. Nepal has recently registered its first same-sex marriage, making it the second country in South Asia to do so. However, heterosexual relationships still enjoy a special status in our society.

ApEx asked 20 random people, in Pulchowk and Khumaltar in Lalitpur, if they were comfortable with different forms of non-heterosexual relationships. Most refused to talk about it, a few expressed their disgust with typical Nepali slang—chhya!—and two had to be explained what it meant. Only one, in her 20s, said ‘love is love’.

Organizations lobbying for LGBTIQA+ rights have been conducting awareness programs but the impact is subdued with no outside help. Gender studies is not a part of our school curriculum and gender stereotyping—think blue rooms, cars, and short hair for boys and pink dresses, dolls, and braids for girls—is still the norm.

The rigid notions of sex leave no room for deviation. And any deviation is feared, mocked, and shunned. This mindset in itself is a form of violence, says the community. It is what makes them vulnerable to other, more visible, forms of abuse.

According to a study by the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law, LGBTIQA+ people are about six times more likely to experience violence by someone they know well and about 2.5 times more likely to be at the receiving end of it at the hands of a stranger, compared to non-LGBTIQA+ people.

LGBTIQA+ people are at increased risk of domestic violence from their partners as they often have nowhere to go. Most have been disowned by their parents and legal recourse is often difficult to pursue. Lama says the partners know this and often take advantage of it. “Prior experiences of physical or psychological trauma, such as bullying and hate crime, also make LGBTIQA+ victims of domestic violence less likely to seek help,” she says.

Sarita KC, executive director of Mitini Nepal, which has been working for queer rights in Nepal since 2002, says violence against the community isn’t addressed because of authorities’ underlying biases and lack of laws. Apart from the lack of family and societal acceptance, there is little to no representation at the policy level.

“There is less participation of LGBTIQA+ people in politics and in places where our voices could be heard,” she says. Queerphobia runs deep even when it isn’t immediately obvious. This makes change difficult, and a socio-cultural shift even more so.

Worse, violence against the community is justified by those who actually have the power to do something about it. Families use it to try to fix them. The police blame their queerness. Surely, by flaunting their over-the-top personalities, they were asking for it. Lama says the police have told many of her friends who have been abused that they must have done something to instigate fights. 

Violence in the LGBTIQA+ community takes many forms, from slurs and intimidation to abuse and even murder. In March 2019, Junu Gurung, a transwoman, was brutally beaten. She died from her injuries two days later. In January 2020, Ajita Bhujel, a transwoman, was strangled to death in Hetauda by a group of youths.

Gurung says it’s going to take a lot more than just awareness programs to curb violence in the LGBTIQA+ community. Nepal must have a proper mechanism to address violence. It must also ensure that victims get justice, despite their gender identity or sexual orientation. She says many community people hesitate to file complaints as they know nothing will be done. Their cases, registered after much pleading and palm-greasing, will be another paper in a dusty file somewhere. 

Violence, KC adds, is a daily reality for the LGBTIQA+ community—in buses, public spaces, schools and colleges, hospitals, and other service providers. There is online harassment as well. KC says their posts on Facebook elicit a lot of hateful and hurtful comments. “Our rights and space are constantly being violated but without public support, we can’t do much about it,” she says.

As her calloused hands deftly work the wood, carving the flower pattern, her face scrunches up in concentration. A small mistake could ruin the design. It must be difficult, I comment. She looks up. The studs in her ears catch the late afternoon sunlight. She smiles and says, “Only till you learn. After that, it’s not as hard as it looks.” Sanu Udas, 42, an employee at the Mangal Wood Carving in Satdobato, Lalitpur, has been carving patterns in wooden doors and windows for two years. She used to polish and paint them—for 10 years—before deciding to try her hand at wood-carving. Four other women work at the factory. They all say woodwork is strenuous but fun and gratifying at the same time. “I like the fact that your work isn’t wasted. It’s there for generations to see,” says Udas. Seeing her colleagues make designs on wood, she too wanted to do it. She gave up a couple of times and went back to polishing and painting till she eventually learnt how to hold a chisel properly, which, she says, is a crucial technique in woodworking. Udas has two daughters and her job has made it possible for her to take care of them. The pay might not be great, but it’s decent enough, she says. Things have gotten worse in the past year though. They don’t get very many orders. Mangal Wood Carving employs 12 people instead of the usual 35. Bijay Maharjan, whose father owns Mangal Wood Carving, says they get many orders from abroad. Their designs have made it to Japan, Australia, Dubai, the UK, and the US. But they don’t have local customers these days, he confesses. There are a lot of cheaper options like aluminum and laminates. The price of wood has gone up and its popularity has declined. “It takes my team of 12 people an entire month to make one piece of furniture. Add the price of labor to the cost of wood and you could very well have to shell out over Rs 200,000 for a front door,” says Maharjan. Bhuwan Shilpakar, owner of Shilpakar Wood Carving, located less than 100 meters away from Mangal Wood Carving, says earlier they used to make many household items like tables, chairs, and consoles. But now the orders are largely limited to main doors. Even then there aren’t that many. Before the pandemic, the company employed nine people. Now, there are just four woodworkers. Fifty-year-old Laxmi Shrestha is one of them. She says woodwork is engaging. It takes her mind off things. She also earns some pocket money and doesn’t have to depend on her family. But the lack of orders concerns her. She fears she will soon be without a job. Shilpakar makes them work on pieces to display at the shop for the occasional drop-in customer but Shrestha wonders how long that can go on. Most of the pieces she has worked on in the past few months are still gathering dust. There are over a dozen wood-carving businesses in less than a 200-meter stretch of road connecting Lagankhel to Satdobato in Lalitpur. Many more are located inside the Patan Industrial Estate, even though quite a few have closed down due to lack of business. I walked around the area and saw woodcarvers busy at work. None of them were working on customer orders. The pieces they were making would be put up for sale at the workshops. They said they were keeping their fingers crossed that someone would come to buy something soon. Manita Thapa, 42, who has been polishing and painting wood crafts for over two decades, says she finishes four to five pieces of door frames or a single door panel in a day, working from 10 in the morning to six in the evening. She’s happy with the money she gets. Despite not having much business, she feels her employer treats his employees well. “There’s a lot of fulfillment and joy in this line of work. It’s art, and not just a mundane, tedious work. The pay is alright,” says Thapa. Her colleague, Deepa Rai, 43, nods in agreement. She will have worked for nine years this year, and says it’s never been boring. She feels proud of the elaborate designs she makes. “Learning was the difficult part. Now that I know how it’s done, I love it,” she says. The work, as enjoyable as it is, comes with challenges. They have to sit in the same position for long hours. Everyone I spoke to said they suffer from backaches. Many have eyesight issues. Prem Bhakta Maharjan, 51, was bandaging a wound on his right foot—a heavy piece of wood fell on it causing a deep gash. Twenty-year-old Sanjeeta Rai from Dhankuta, who has been working at Ramesh Woodcarving, was nursing a splinter on her palm, below her thumb. She couldn’t get it out. Hari Gopal, 49, said his back was stiff and his legs numb. He had been sitting with his right leg sprawled out for almost four hours when I met him. As he works on a contract basis, which means he gets paid for the number of pieces he makes, he wants to complete as many as he can in a day. After all, he is the only working member in his family. Traditionally, the designs were deities and demons, religious symbols, or animals that were considered auspicious. This was when carved and lattice windows with peacocks were prominent fixtures in many homes. These designs aren’t much in demand these days, unless the orders come from Nepalis living abroad, agree business owners ApEx spoke to. They also confessed that since wood-carving is what their families have been doing for generations, they don’t want to make ‘contemporary’ designs just to attract a crowd. “The charm of wooden artifacts is in the traditional designs,” says Shilpakar. He says woodwork was once about showcasing the artist’s talents. Now the designs aren’t as intricate as slow, laborious work takes both time and effort. It also makes the price of the item go up. People aren’t willing to spend extra when they have options. But Shilpakar says wooden doors and windows are an investment. The upkeep is easy. If you know how to take care of it, a solid wooden door will last generations. You can also sell the wood after using it for years. Aluminum and laminates, on the other hand, look dirty and old once they lose their shine. The government’s construction guidelines that state houses being built at heritage sites should have wooden doors and windows has apparently kept many woodworkers in business. The government also offers subsidies and other incentives to buy construction materials. If this could be implemented on a large scale, it would be the biggest help for the revival of their business. The woodworkers fear the art form could otherwise soon be lost. “My son doesn’t want to take over the business. He says there is no scope in woodwork. We will perhaps be the last generation to make wood carvings if nothing is done to preserve the tradition,” says Shilpakar.