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Watching plays has always been a soothing experience for me. I enjoy them. It’s a good way to relax and recharge, especially after a hectic week. Naturally, it’s good for my anxiety too. But this time, my experience was quite the opposite. Don’t get me wrong, the actors carried out the drama phenomenally. But the storyline for ‘God of Carnage’, a play by Yasmina Reza, adapted in Nepali language by Absurd Icons Nepal in association with Mala Arts Academy, was just not my cup of tea. The dark comedy is based on the talk between two sets of parents, who have gotten together to sort out the problem between their children. One of the couples’ son was hit by the other in a public park, and is now suffering from two broken teeth and an exposed vein. So, his parents, Vanshita (Reema Midhun Magar) and Mohan (Saroj Shrestha), have set up a meeting with the other child’s parents, Anuja (Sabina Gopali) and Anmol (Bimba Adhikari), to discuss the incident. While watching the first 10 minutes of the play, the audience could get a faint idea on the personalities of all the four characters involved in the drama. Vanshita, a writer by profession who is also fond of artworks, likes to consider herself as a “progressive” woman who values a civilized conversation and is strictly against violence, while her husband Mohan, is a people-pleaser who has been dragged into this meeting because of his inability to disagree with anyone. Their house is filled with paintings and artworks, which shows that Vanshita makes most of the decisions in the household. On the other hand, Anuja has a bit of a pretentious personality, which is clearly seen from her choice of wardrobe and an elaborate pair of sunglasses. She is trying her best to seem interested in the conversation, while constantly getting angry at her husband Anmol, a lawyer, who is frequently on calls with his clients, and seems to like nothing but his work. He looks sophisticated, but turns out to be the exact opposite once you get to know him. All their views and personalities clash terribly with one another, making the entire play as chaotic as it could get. The drama starts with a calm conversation between the four characters. But they start showing their true colors once the disagreements begin. The arguments slowly escalate, and gets worse once the drink is poured when Mohan admits to being an alcoholic and grabs a bottle of rum for himself. The characters even get violent at some point. The play ends with four of them getting drunk, with no conclusion whatsoever on the matter this meeting was held for in the first place. Everyone in the audience, including me, felt like we knew just how to put a stop to those arguments. But seeing the characters not get to that conclusion was frustrating (and a trigger for my anxiety). Hence, I wouldn’t say it’s an ideal play for those with anxiety, or so I think. But that also says a lot about the actors. They had to show how obnoxious their characters were, and they did so brilliantly. The play, however, did run into some technical issues with the lights going off every now and then. Yet, the actors were able to carry out the sequence from where they left off. They made it flow, without making the play seem jarring. Although I have to admit, the frequent blackouts did ruin the mood and it took a minute or two for the audience to get in the zone once the play resumed. But, there were some moments I thoroughly enjoyed during the play. Some of the dialogues were downright funny, especially the nickname ‘Meow-meow’ Anmol had for his wife Anuja. The little arguments between the couples reminded me of my own parents, who still like to bicker about things that make no sense. Once you watch this play, you will find a lot of relatable instances, making you chuckle time and again. I, personally, would not recommend this play for anyone who is not a big fan of family dramas, and someone like me who gets easily startled by plays that involve a lot of arguments. But if you don’t mind all that, this theatrical adaptation is beautifully executed, with exceptional actors who infuse a lot of life to the story.

These monitoring stations were installed by the Department of Environment (DoE) under the Ministry of Forest and Environment, with assistance from various donor agencies, which costs around Rs 10-20m each. “But there is no regular maintenance after installation,” says Madhukar Upadhyay, an environmentalist.  He adds that changing the damaged parts or maintaining the stations doesn’t require a lot of expertise. Still, the government hasn’t been able to maintain them. “They are installing monitoring stations just for show. They know we will not get any benefit from them,” he says.  Shanot Adhikari, an environmental expert, says the operational cost and tedious procurement process for installing and maintaining these stations might also be the reason why most of them are not in working condition. “The government is too dependent on donor agencies for maintenance,” he adds.  On the other hand, Govinda Lamichhane, environmental inspector, DoE, says the government is doing its best to repair the damaged stations and get them up and running. Currently, they are working on the ones located in Kirtipur and Lumbini. Lamichhane says they will be operational soon. Although the government says there is no problem with budget allocation, Lamichhane believes they are slightly dependent on the non-governmental agencies to help out with the repairs. “Some stations are being repaired using our own resources, but for others, we need external help,” he adds. Lamichhane mentions that the process of selecting and acquiring parts needed for the repairs has also been tedious and time-consuming. “Outsourcing wouldn’t be a problem if the government regularly followed up with the external agencies on the progress,” says Binod Bhatta, environmental expert. It’s the government’s responsibility to keep track of regular maintenance and repair, even if it’s tasked to other agencies. “But our government has taken it lightly,” he adds. This, Adhikari says, can be traced back to 2002-03 when the government first installed air quality monitoring stations, and outsourced the responsibility of maintenance. The stations ran smoothly until 2006, after which the responsible agency couldn’t handle it anymore. “We have no data whatsoever on air pollution from 2007 to 2016,” he adds, “With the increasing dependency of the government on donor agencies, I fear history might repeat itself.” DoE, however, says there is no need for concern as they have been using their resources to repair the damaged stations.  Furthermore, Lamichhane believes that improper power distribution is also one of the reasons behind the monitoring stations’ malfunction. “The power voltage is not consistent and that results in mechanical issues,” he says.  The repercussions  Air quality monitoring stations analyze the air in the area where they are installed for particulate matter (PM) and gaseous pollutants. They separate pollutants into three categories: PM 1 (ultrafine particles that are less than one micrometers in aerodynamic diameter), PM 2.5 (fine inhalable particles that are 2.5 micrometers and smaller in diameter), and PM 10 (inhalable particles, that are 10 micrometers and smaller in diameter), and measure them in micrograms per cubic meter.  An analysis of data collected from 10 monitoring stations currently in operation shows that only the air quality in Rara and Mahendranagar is satisfactory, while air quality in Pokhara and Hetauda is moderate. However, the PM 2.5 levels in Jhumka, Shankha Park, Khumaltar, Ratnapark, and Dhankuta, are all unhealthy for children, elderly, and those with respiratory diseases, with readings ranging from 119 to 195. The 100-150 readings are considered unhealthy for those groups, and all age groups may experience health problems if the PM 2.5 level is between 150 and 200. But this alone cannot determine the air quality of the overall country, says Upadhyay. “The problem with not having enough monitoring stations is that the data on air pollution aren’t as reliable as they could be,” he adds. Since the stations can only monitor air up to a certain radius, it’s difficult to get real-time data of the areas that the stations can’t cover.   For instance, in Kathmandu valley, out of the seven monitoring stations in Ratnapark, Shankha Park, Bhaisepati, Bhaktapur, Pulchowk, Khumaltar, and Kirtipur, only the ones in Ratnapark, Shankha Park, and Khumaltar are functional. “This is problematic because the data received are not accurate since they fail to cover several areas within the valley,” adds Upadhyay.  Lamichhane, on the other hand, disagrees. He believes that though 17 monitoring stations are currently not functional, there still are data that could be analyzed and used as a basis for formulating necessary action plans to mitigate air pollution in specific regions. “The government has been using these data to make changes even at policy level,” he says. But Bhatta says the action plan will be based on less accurate data. “It would be better if those functioning stations were scattered all across Nepal, covering almost every region although the radius might differ,” he says. But most of the working stations are clustered in one region, and there are other regions with no monitoring stations at all. “The action plan made for one region might not work for others,” he says. However, the government still thinks of this as progress. “If we look at the situation before 2016, we had nothing. But now we, at least, have some data to understand air quality in Nepal,” adds Lamichhane. He mentions that these public data are not only beneficial for researchers and the government to make necessary changes and formulate action plans, but they also work as a way of making the public aware of the reality of air pollution. “Although the progress is slow, we need to understand that changes take time,” he says, “The government will work on the remaining stations.”

Ruby Khan is a 34-year-old activist from Nepalgunj, Banke, Lumbini Province, who has remained consistent with her fight for human rights since she was 19. She came into the limelight after leading a demonstration in Sep 2020, where she along with 16 others walked for 20 days from Nepalgunj to Kathmandu, demanding justice for Nirmala Kurmi and Nankunni Dhobi. Kurmi has been missing since 2012 while Dhobi was found dead under mysterious circumstances in 2021. Khan grew up in a patriarchal society where women were often oppressed and deprived from exercising their rights. They weren’t allowed to work, educating girls wasn’t a priority, and the ones who did go to school were considered a ‘bad influence’, as people in the community believed that would motivate their daughters to study too. Worse, domestic violence was a daily occurance. “I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen. I knew I had to be their voice,” she says. But it was one particular incident that drove her to do that: In 2007, a woman from Nepalgunj was burnt alive by her husband. “The incident was brutal, but sadly, nothing new in my community,” she says. With the support of Nepal Muslim Samaj Bikas Chetna Kendra, a non-governmental organization in Nepalgunj, Khan became a part of the protest, demanding justice for the victim. “We took to the street, with help from other organizations and even from the government during our fight,” she adds, “And thankfully, we succeeded.” Khan then joined the organization and that, she says, was when she officially took up activism. In all these years of activism, Khan has advocated for many women in her village. From speaking up against domestic violence to convincing people to send their daughters to school, she has remained consistent with her work. Her job wasn’t easy, but society made it even worse. Khan’s neighborhood despised her for being a working woman. Although her mother was supportive, the rest of the family weren’t happy with the decision. “People questioned my character when I returned late from work. They would pass nasty comments whenever I walked past them,” she says. 15 years later, she is now a name all too familiar for most Nepalis, mainly because of her undying efforts to fight for the rights of women in Nepalgunj. But her work has come at a cost. Khan mentions that she has nearly been murdered twice, and still receives death threats on a fairly regular basis. But it doesn’t scare her, she says, because she has seen things that are much worse.. Khan remembers the time she first encountered Nirmala Kurmi in 2009. “She was shivering and scared. She was there to file a complaint against her abuser,” says Khan. Moments later, when Kurmi was returning home, Khan received a call saying she was being taken hostage, and might even lose her life if no one intervened. “When I reached there, I could see a man holding her by the neck and dragging her through the street full of people with no fear whatsoever,” says Khan. It took her and the team five hours to rescue Kurmi. “The authorities were not supportive as the accused was someone in power,” she adds. Kurmi eventually disappeared and was later declared dead, although the dead body that was identified wasn’t hers, claims Khan. Since then, she has gone on several hunger strikes, led a sit-in demonstration for 19 days in front of the District Administration Office in Nepalgunj, and walked for more than 500 km from Nepalgunj to Kathmandu demanding a proper investigation. But the only thing she has gotten in return from the authorities is disappointment, which has strengthened its hold as the years have gone by. “Documents were being forged, evidence was being destroyed, the accused was and still is roaming around freely, and no one was listening to what the protestors had to say,” she adds. Remembering this incident and what came after is something that encourages her to remain consistent with activism, which is evident since she has been leading the protest ever since Kurmi’s disappearance 11 years ago. She has also handled many other cases. However, Khan says there have been some positive changes that motivate her.“We started with no support, but now we have so many people advocating along with us,” she says. The media too has been a great ally, she adds. That makes her hopeful of a better future for women in Nepal. Khan is pursuing a Bachelor’s in Law from a university in India. She hopes this will help her take her work further and be in a better position to help those in need. Threats and challenges aren’t going to stop this activist who is determined to do whatever it takes to ensure women’s safety, at home and beyond.

It’s 1958. The Rana regime is long gone, and Nepal is now witnessing major political changes. But Mau Jung Babu Saheb, the former Rana minister, is still reminiscing about the old times, and the only treasure in his life is a shabby, old overcoat he owns, the one he received from someone close to the Rana family. ‘Mau Jung Babu Saheb Ko Coat’ is a Nepali classic written by Bhawani Bhikchu that tells the story of a man who once had reached the height of power, but is now gripping onto what’s left of it, which isn’t much. And the theatrical adaptation by Shailee Theatre in Ratopul, Kathmandu has done a good job in bringing this story to life. Babu Saheb is at the heart of this story. He’s a hateful and oppressive man, who reveled in the power he used to have over people as a Rana minister. It goes without saying, he was feared by all. But with the fall of the Rana regime, he has now become a laughing stock. Outside his household, people don’t think much of him. The reason why Babu Saheb is clinging on to the coat is because it reminds him of the old times, where he could easily demand respect from people. It was that coat which made him stand out among all. But now, with its colors fading away, and stitches coming out, the overcoat meets the same fate as the Rana regime did—it no longer holds any value—and that is the main theme of the story. Shailee Theater has put in a lot of effort to bring out this characteristic of Babu Saheb, that too,  just by his looks. With his face painted white and dark lines circling his eyes, he looks scary, but at the same time looks like someone who is not taken seriously. The actor (Saroj Aryal) gets the credit for bringing the character to life, besides the makeup. From the way he speaks, to his body language, everything hints towards how obnoxious the character was. While the others don’t have the same elaborate makeup as he does, they have carried their characters well. There are a few moments where the actors go a little overboard, but that is well compensated for by a lot of moments that will leave you in splits. Although Babu Saheb was the main character, some credit must go to the appearance of Bada Hakim (portrayed by Pranesh Gautam). More than his dialogues, his expressions are what the audience will love the most. It is light-weight and funny, and even though his appearance is short, it’s unforgettable. Besides the acting, lights and stage set-up also make the play much more interesting. The lighting changes were done in perfect timing to set the mood for the next scene. And the stage set-ups and changes were smooth and clean. One of the best transitions was when Babu Saheb leaves for Lucknow, in order to get his coat dry-cleaned. With the constant chatter of people trying to sell pan, asking to carry bags, and everything in chaos, we are easily transported to a railway station in India. The play, overall, is a fun watch, although the ending isn’t quite satisfying. It’s pretty obvious that they are trying to show the overcoat seeing the same fate as the fall of Ranas, but it could have been better delivered. The entire play shouldn’t be judged just by the flat ending. It’s a light-weight drama that lasts one and a half hours, and it’s definitely worth a watch. ‘Mau Jung babu Saheb Ko Coat’ will be staged at Shailee Theatre in Ratopul, at 5:00 pm on weekdays (except Thursday) and at 1:00 pm on weekends. It will run till  Feb 8. 

Fr. Casper J Miller SJ, an educator, Catholic missionary, and a part of Nepal Jesuit Society, has passed away. He was 90. Fondly known as Fr Cap by his students and well-wishers, he dedicated his life serving the ones in need. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, Fr Cap came to Nepal in 1958. He entered the Society of Jesus, also known as Jesuit, in the year 1951, and was officially ordained as a priest in 1964, India. He came to Nepal with a sole purpose of promoting education in rural as well as urban areas, and did so for 65 years. During his working days, he taught hundreds of students and was the oldest missionary to introduce Christianity to the Tamang community in Nepal. He also served as the principal of St. Xavier’s School, Jawalakhel, from 1967 to 1969, and St. Xavier’s School, Godawari, from 1969 to 1975. Fr Cap, who held a PhD in Anthropology, was also associated with Research Writer at Human Resource Development and Research Centre from 1976 to 1987.  He also authored ‘Faith-Healers in the Himalayas’, ‘Decision Making in Village Nepal’, and ‘To Yourself Be True’. “He was a kind-hearted man who loved trekking, cycling, and going on long walks,” Fr Amrit Rai, SJ said in his eulogy to Fr Cap. “He was very sociable and always left a positive impression on the hearts and minds of all who came in contact with him.” With growing age, Fr Cap’s responsibility dialed down a little in his 80s, when he became a student counselor for St. Xavier’s College, Maitighar, in 2018. He soon retired and stayed in Campion House, where he spent his free time as a community librarian and a writer. Although Fr Cap did not have any major illnesses, he was bedridden for over a month at St. Xavier’s Jesuit Community, Jawalakhel, Lalitpur, where he breathed last on 15 Jan 2023. Birth: 13 Dec 1933, Cleveland, Ohio, US Death: 15 Jan 2023, Jawalakhel, Lalitpur

The Seoul Jib Korean Restaurant, now a sprawling space that can accommodate 150 people, was once located in a small, rented flat in Bishalnagar, Kathmandu that could barely fit 50 people. Rajeshwori Thapa Magar, owner of the restaurant and a trekking guide for Korean tourists, never imagined she would have to relocate to a new place within four years of its launch. “My target customers were the Korean clients I had through my travel agency. I never thought I would get a lot of Nepali customers,” she says. Indeed, Korean restaurants get a lot of Nepali customers and it’s mostly the youngsters who visit these places to experience Korean culture. Tejendra Nath Adhikari, past president, Restaurant and Bar Association Nepal (REBAN), says a lot of new Korean establishments have come up in recent years. “There must be around 50 to 60 proper Korean restaurants in Kathmandu, not counting the ones that serve Korean cuisine as a part of its menu,” says Adhikari. Bibek Gurung, operational manager at Hankook Sarang Korean Restaurant, says that each outlet of the restaurant caters to around 200 customers during the weekday. The number goes up to 400 on the weekends. On special occasions and public holidays, it becomes difficult for the staff to manage the customer flow. The reason behind peoples’ love for Korean dishes seems to be the influence Korean dramas, movies, bands, and celebrities have on the Nepali audience, says Barsha Paudel, a 27-year-old student, who lives in Manamaiju, Kathmandu. Paudel has been a fan of Korean drama ever since she was a teenager. “The food they show on the TV shows looks so appetizing and aesthetic that I too felt like having Korean cuisine. That’s how my love for it started,” she says. She is fascinated by the way they serve Korean food.  As Korean food comes with a variety of side dishes, it looks really pleasing. There are plenty of options, catering to different kinds of taste palates and that makes Korean cuisine all the more appealing for youngsters like Paudel. Asmita KC, 29, who works at Spiceroom Nepal, a restaurant located inside Hotel Yak & Yeti, Durbarmarg, Kathmandu, is a die-hard fan of Korean cuisine and culture. She believes the deep rooted fandom culture that Korea has is also one of the reasons why many want to try out their cuisine. Most fans want to taste the dishes that their favorite celebrities claim to love. “While copying them is one thing, most of them, including me, genuinely start liking the dishes and choose to visit Korean restaurants frequently when that happens,” she adds. Twenty-eight-year-old student Dikki Sherpa, from Pharping, Kathmandu, agrees with KC. Initially, she wanted to try Korean cuisine after coming across mukbang videos (where viewers watch the host eat) on YouTube. Now, she is a regular at Jeju Do, a Korean restaurant in Durbarmarg, Kathmandu. Ravi Maharjan, co-owner of Korean BBQ Restaurant in Ekantakuna, Lalitpur, claims most of his customers bring back their parents and older relatives to try out the cuisine after liking it themselves. Indra Sen Sunuwar, founder of Jeju Do, says most of his customers became regular visitors after figuring out Korean food is far healthier than any other meal served at restaurants. “After Covid-19 pandemic people started being more health conscious, fueling the craze of Korean cuisine,” he adds. Korean dishes include a lot of vegetables and the nutritional value is high, say restaurant owners. Since the vegetables are mostly fermented or cooked in a stew, there’s very little oil in the dishes. “It’s usually difficult to find healthy yet tasty food at restaurants but with Korean food, that’s never a problem,” says Paudel. She claims that the use of flour and monosodium glutamate (MSG), an ingredient added to enhance flavor, is minimal in Korean dishes. KC, on the other hand, adds Korean food is somewhat similar to Nepali food  and she also finds it doesn’t upset her digestive system, like other heavily spiced and oily cuisines. Much like a Nepali meal, Korean dishes come with a lot of sides (Banchan in Korean): There are  Kimchi (fermented cabbage), Mu Saengchae (spicy radish salad), Sigeumchi Namul (seasoned spinach), Sukju Namul (seasoned bean sprouts), and a lot more, along with the main course. “But the spices and sauces used in Korean food make it taste different from what we usually have,” she says. This, she adds, makes the food feel familiar and unique at the same time. Magar from Seoul Jib Korean Restaurant says the charm of Korean food is that it is both savory and sweet at the same time. “Nepali customers who frequent my restaurant love that,” she adds. Pooja Subedi, 29-year-old former bartender living in Dhapasi, Kathmandu, who often visits Korean restaurants, says that the restaurant’s ambience is equally important for her to enjoy her food. “I could eat Korean food anywhere, but I like to visit a restaurant that has done its part to showcase Korean culture even through their decor,” she says. And the restaurants are well aware of that. The ones ApEx spoke to have invested in creating Korean traditional houses and cultural settings. Some of them even have their staff members wear traditional Korean attire. Special attention has been paid to the seating arrangements, which are quite similar to restaurants in Korea, with low tables that require you to sit on the floor. The tables have an attached grill that allows you to make your own barbeque. Yandu Sherpa, owner of Saan Sarang Korean Restaurant in Boudha, Kathmandu, says one of the most ordered food items in their restaurant is Samgyeopsal (pork barbeque). She adds that most of her customers order Soju (rice wine) to go with the barbeque. It’s their way of enjoying the Korean experience to the fullest as people in Korean dramas are often seen having Soju along with the Samgyeopsal. However, Paudel says Korean food is a little expensive in comparison to other cuisines. The price ranges from Rs 500 to Rs 2,000, or even more for a single dish. But KC, on the other hand, mentions that a meal can be cheap or expensive depending on how and what you order. “I mostly order Kimbap (Korean Seaweed Rice Rolls) and a soup. It generally costs around Rs 700, which I think is pretty decent for a good meal,” she says. Magar mentions that Korean dishes come in large portions, and are best suited for a group of people. “Ordering two meals, say a Samgyeopsal and Kimchi-jjigae (kimchi stew), will be enough for around eight people,” she says. This is because both the dishes come with a lot of accompaniments, including rice. It’s not just the restaurants that have realized and cashed in on Kathmandu’s Korean food craze. Even grocery stores have started stocking Korean food items. “A few years back, all we could get was ramen, and that too only at a few places,” says Subedi, “But now they are available in every other shop in town.” Restaurant owners back his claim. They say it’s not very difficult to find items needed to make Korean dishes in Nepal. Earlier, much of the ingredients had to be imported from Korea. “Four years back, I had to request my clients to bring spice from Korea, but now everything is available in Kathmandu,” adds Magar. Many stores also sell packed kimchi, authentic Korean spices, and seaweed among other items. Also, there are a few stores dedicated to selling Korean food items only. The steadily growing craze will probably be fueled by more Korean restaurants in Kathmandu in the days to come. Adhikari of REBAN mentions a lot of people are investing in restaurants these days, and that there are quite a few Korean establishments in the making. “Kathmandu residents are fascinated by Korean culture, and that will continue to be a boon to restaurateurs,” he says.

A year and a half ago, the long-running and popular AWON Library shut down. Shreekrishna Dahal, executive secretary, Rotary Club Kathmandu, says it was because members were rapidly declining, especially after Covid-19. “People were more into reading digitally, and they didn’t need a library for that,” he adds. However, recently the number of people visiting libraries has been increasing in Kathmandu. But they aren’t there for the books. Instead, they are more interested in finding silent corners to study or work. Ritesh Shrestha, a senior library assistant at Kathmandu Valley Public Library at Bhrikuti Mandap, Kathmandu, says that they have more than 2,300 people on yearly membership. Every day there are around 80 visitors who use their space to work. It’s the same with Kaiser Library in Thamel. Suresh Yadav, chief librarian, says there are around 35-40 visitors everyday. Pooja Mandal, a 24-year-old studying agriculture, says she is more comfortable studying at a library than cooped up in her room. “I’m more productive when I’m at a library,” she says. But she doesn’t need to refer to any of the books at the library she visits. She is content sitting by herself and studying. “I occasionally pick up some magazines when I need a break from my course work. But besides that, I take my own materials to study,” she says. The reason behind not referring to the books available, Mandal says, is because she doesn’t find materials that fit her course. “Most people I see at the library bring their own books and references and just use the space to study,” she adds. Ashok Yadav, a 30-year-old studying for the entrance exam of Public Service Commission, also says the materials he requires for his exams’ preparations aren’t available easily in Kathmandu’s libraries. “The ones they have are either outdated or of no use for me,” he adds. Aayush Subedi, a 21-year-old student in Kathmandu, further mentions that there is absolutely no variety in the kind of books found in Nepali libraries. “I have only visited two libraries, but both had a limited number of books, and the ones they have are either too old or have torn pages,” he says. Shrestha of Kathmandu Valley Public Library claims that although many books are being donated, and the libraries themselves invest money from their allocated budgets to bring in new books, their members are frequently submitting lists of materials that they would want the libraries to keep. “Most of those books are by foreign writers, and we only get to bring in a few that are available at the bookstores,” he says. Rajeev Singh, director of Madan Puraskar Library in Patandhoka, Lalitpur, says every library in Nepal has its speciality. Not every place will have all kinds of books. The Madan Puraskar Library has more than 22,000 materials available, but it’s mostly just Nepali literature. “We have researchers, journalists and students coming in daily for three-four months to go through our archives,” he says. Yadav says, at the Kaiser Library, they have books as old as 1100 years. They are meticulous about preserving these treasures and have been doing so diligently. “But most of these books mean nothing for young readers who are looking for, say, fiction, fantasy and the like,” he adds. Jayanti Silwal, co-founder, Sanu Ko Pustakalaya in Manbhawan, Lalitpur, says that youths are more into reading new publications, especially ones in English. “Many of our patrons provide us with a list of books that they want to read,” she adds. On the other hand, Prem Raj Adhikari, chief librarian at Nepal National Library in Madhyapur Thimi, Bhaktapur, says those who visit libraries these days do so because they need a peaceful atmosphere that a restaurant, cafe or a co-working space simply can’t provide. Most of them aren’t looking for books or reference materials. With so much content available online, there is no dearth of information. “I believe that the visitors are more interested in the vibe that a library creates,” he says. Subedi agrees. “I can adjust with libraries not having a book I’m looking for as long as it has a good, clean, and well-lit study space,” he says. What Adhikari finds problematic is that most libraries aren’t spacious or comfortable enough. There aren’t ample seating areas, or proper bathrooms. Many don’t provide drinking water and that can be a nuisance, he says. “To make things worse, most libraries are located on the ground floor. So, it’s always damp and cold,” he says. Mandal verifies the claim. She visited many other libraries before deciding to be a regular at Nepal Bharat Library in Kantipath, Kathmandu. “Many libraries didn’t have proper lighting, were cold, lacked good bathrooms, or had an outdoor studying area that was generally very noisy,” she says. However, the dearth of good libraries means that the ones that are good get crowded quite easily. Mandal wishes there were a system where library-goers could have their own reserved space, to read and to study. Currently, most libraries have small desks with benches that people need to share and that gives them no personal space. “The seats are not separated and everyone needs to study together. That leads to a lot of distraction,” she says. Yadav who is studying for Public Service Commission exams says most of the libraries are in close proximity to one another. It’s very rare that you will find one in your community. Chances are, you will have to take a bus or two to get to one, and that the trip will take an hour at the least. Then there’s also the issue of many libraries allowing readers to read at their premises but not to borrow books to take home. People ApEx spoke to say they would like to take out books from the library so that they could read at their own pace, without the need to keep going back and forth for it. Rajesh Yadav, a 28-year-old German-language instructor, says he was discouraged from visiting a library after he was told not to take a book home. “I can’t finish a book in one sitting, and I can’t spend day after day at the library reading,” he says. Singh of the Madan Puraskar Library mentions that a lot of students don’t return when they realize they can’t take books with them. But that isn’t true for all libraries. Silwal mentions that their library has always allowed their readers to take books home and return it within a month. The same is true for the Kathmandu Valley Public Library. Despite that, many students are only looking for a peaceful space at their workstation, says Silwal. “I think it’s the cozy environment with silence and no distraction that these students are looking for in order to study,” she adds, “And most of these students are ones who stay at hostels.” Mandal, who shares a room at a hostel, says that for them a library is a great place to sit and study, compared to a hostel room where you are hardly ever alone and it’s never quiet. It doesn’t matter that these libraries don’t have books that fit their courses. “It has become a second home for many students on a tight budget who can’t afford to splurge at restaurants and cafes,” she says.

Gauri Lama* and Rajesh Lama*, siblings from Rukum, were brought to Kathmandu sometime in 2018 by a relative, with a promise of better health care and education. They were sent to one of the child care homes in Bhaisepati, Lalitpur, along with five other children from various districts. The place fed leftovers to the children and forced them into labor. All of them ran away from the orphanage two years later, and were reintegrated in their families through Future Generation Nepal (FGN), a non-profit organization working for the protection of children and their rights. Krishna Thadera* from Humla came to Kathmandu in 2017. He was brought by someone from his village, who took money from the family after promising to send their child to a good school. He dropped Thadera off to an organization, who paid him off for bringing him in. Thadera was around 10 years old. During the Covid-19 lockdown, shelter was shut and, in 2020, Thadera, was found begging on the streets. Ram BK* from Bajura was 14 when he came to Kathmandu with his uncle, a politician, who left him at an orphanage in 2018. His paperworks showed that his parents were dead. He was back on the streets during Covid-19, and rescued by Voice of Children (VOC), who later on found that his parents were alive, and his uncle had made a fake death certificate and received a commission from the organization for bringing in the child. These are just a few representative cases among all the other cases they have encountered so far, says Bashu Phuyal, program coordinator, FGN. He says that this has been going on for a long time. Most of the children brought to Kathmandu belong to rural parts of Nepal, especially from Karnali province. They are brought through agents who take money from the family to find their children a good home in Kathmandu. “Most of these children either run away or suffer terribly in these institutions,” he adds. Raja Ram Yadav from Pranavananda Ashram and Vidhya Mandir verifies the claim. He further mentions that he was contacted by one of the agents who offered to bring a child with fake paperwork, and also provide a commission for taking in the child. “I said no, but I know for a fact that there are many institutions who have been doing so,” he says. Raju Ghimire, deputy director, Voice of Children (VOC), says that most of the children who run away end up om the streets. Among the children VOC has worked with, Ghimire says most of the runaways from orphanages have a family member in their villages and are not actually orphans. The Act Relating to Children (2018) says that Child Care Homes (CCH) should be the last resort for a child. It states that in case a child does not have at least one living parent, his/her caretaker must be an immediate relative. If not, then a child should be handed to an organization that facilitates foster care. Only if none of the above mentioned options are viable, can a child be placed at an orphanage. But that’s not the case. In the fiscal year 2021/2022, Nepal has 417 CCH in 43 districts, among which most of them are located within the Bagmati Province, according to the report of National Child Rights Council (NCRC). There are a total of 10,905 children living in these orphanages. According to UNICEF, around 85 percent of them have at least one living parent, or a guardian. Phuyal further mentions that those numbers are just in the orphanages that have been registered in the NCRC. “There are many others that are running illegally, and are receiving children from agents deployed in rural parts of Nepal,” he says, “This has become a solid source of income for many.” Namuna Sapkota, a field researcher for one the research published by Center for Legal Research and Resource Development (CeLRRd) on the working modalities of CCHs, says that it was quite evident from her visit in around 11 orphanages in Tokha and Kageshwori Manohara Municipality in Kathmandu, that most of the children had at least one living parent. “I was skeptical at first, but after talking to the children I was sure of it,” she says. While the municipalities have been working on monitoring the works of these CCH, most of the cases are hidden with no proof to prosecute the orphanages, she adds. Rammani Gautam, director, CeLRRd, further mentions there are several other CCHs that have registered in the name of non-governmental and nonprofit organizations, and have used children to get funds and donations. Here, he says, there is no guarantee if a child is actually an orphan. Mahima Pokharel, founder, Happy Home Orphanage, says that even when they know that the children have someone to take care of them, they are in no position to send them away. “It’s difficult to send a child home knowing that he will not be taken care of,” adds Pokharel. But to abide by the existing law, she further mentions that her institution has tried to reintegrate some of the children back home once the family’s condition has improved. “But we don’t take in anyone who does not have an official recommendation from the government,” she says. The majority of responsibility of monitoring the works of orphanages falls under the local government. Each local government must have a Child Welfare Officer, who is responsible for approving if a child needs to be in a CCH. “Officially, an orphanage can only accept a child if he/she has the recommendation, or has been handed over by the police or other authoritative government agencies,” says Sarbindra Thakur from Sertshang Orphanage Home. In case a child does not have any sort of document, it is up to the CCH to find out about his/her family background and submit a report to the NCRC. “But the problem lies at the beginning of this entire process,” says Santosh Maharjan, project coordinator at CeLRRd. Out of 753 local governments, only around 200 of them have appointed Local Child Rights Committee and Child Welfare Officers, informs Chand. On top of that,  none of these officers are assigned a psychosocial counselor and a social worker needed to make proper assessment on whether a child should be at an orphanage. Ram Bahadur Chand, information officer, NCRC, mentions that every municipality will have a Local Child Rights Committee and Child Welfare Officer within the next two years. “NCRC has been working on the matter,” he says. He further mentions that NCRC was able to reintegrate around 1200 children into their families last year. “Whatever is happening with these children at orphanages can be considered orphanage trafficking” says Amrita Poudel, head of programs (South Asia), ECPAT Luxembourg, “But the government has failed to recognize the term and only looks at it as illicit transportation.” Nepal became the 176th country to ratify the Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, commonly known as Palermo Protocol in 2020. The current situation of CCH in Nepal can be considered as orphanage trafficking, according to this protocol. But the government has not shown any progress to amend the Human Trafficking and Transportation Act that aligns with this protocol, says Kapil Aryal, researcher and associate professor at Kathmandu School of Law. Nevertheless, the accused could be prosecuted under the Act Relating to Children (2018), but he says that almost none of the government lawyers have worked on a case like that. On the other hand, Chand does not agree with Aryal. He believes that the term orphanage trafficking misrepresents the problem, and should not be used to describe the current situation with children in CCH. “But we have been taking necessary actions to monitor and mitigate the illicit transfer of children,” he adds. Bikram Prasad Pandaya, information officer, Ministry of Women, Children and Senior Citizens (MoWCSC), says that the ministry is also working in coordination with NCRC to go on field visits to see if the orphanages are working as per the policy. “I agree when the organizations say that there is a problem at orphanages, but bringing change is a gradual process,” he says. “Right now, the ministry’s main focus is to advocate child rights and make CCH founders aware of the current child rights policy.”