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Since becoming attuned to the art of writing through Amitav Ghosh, I have sought to immerse myself in the ideas presented in both his fiction and non-fiction works. His writing primarily focuses on the climate crisis and its deep connections to the colonial past. In Smoke and Ashes: A Writer’s Journey Through Opium’s Hidden Histories, Ghosh explores how the opium trade helped generate immense revenues for colonizers, while intertwining with the social and cultural fabric of societies over centuries. This intricate narrative sheds light on the profound impact of opium, not only as a trade commodity but also as a symbol of exploitation and resilience.

The medicinal use of opium is documented in classical literature, including works by Homer and Virgil, dating back to around 850 BC. During the reigns of the Greeks and Romans, it was widely used as a painkiller and, paradoxically, as a poison. Ancient texts reflect its dual nature as both a remedy and a danger. The journey of opium—from its origins in Europe, where references to it appear in the Bible as early as the 11th century, to its arrival in Asia, particularly the Indian subcontinent—is a fascinating tale of cultural exchange, economic exploitation, and human suffering. In Europe, opium was commonly used to treat coughs, stomach disorders, and various other ailments, highlighting its role as a vital medicinal resource long before its notoriety as a tool of colonial profit.

Opium’s introduction to India and China coincided with the rising popularity of Chinese tea among European elites, particularly in Portugal. The importation of tea from China by European traders was paralleled by the exportation of opium to the Chinese market, despite its prohibition by the Ming dynasty. Notably, Chinese tea gained popularity in England thanks to Catherine of Braganza, the Portuguese wife of King Charles II. As part of her dowry, Catherine brought two historically significant items: a casket of tea and a set of six islands that would later become Mumbai. At the time, Portugal’s colonies included Macao, which was leased from the Ming dynasty. This transfer of goods and territories underscores the deep entanglement of trade, politics, and colonial ambitions that defined the era.

Recognizing tea’s economic value, the British East India Company worked to ensure a steady supply, not only to satisfy demand but also to sustain the revenues derived from the trade. Their ambitions extended beyond tea to include opium, which was traded with business lords in Canton. The nexus of tea and opium trade became a cornerstone of the British colonial economy. During the British Empire’s territorial expansions in North America and Europe, taxes on tea were significantly increased to offset military expenses. Simultaneously, the British forced Indian farmers and local rulers in colonized regions to intensify opium production. By 1770, the fertile paddy fields of Bengal had been converted into opium farms, plunging farmers into poverty. While the price of opium soared, the peasants who cultivated it were paid a pittance, perpetuating a cycle of exploitation and despair.

The transformation of Bengal’s agricultural landscape highlights the devastating consequences of colonial policies. The shift from subsistence farming to opium production left communities vulnerable to famine and economic instability. The human cost of this transition is a stark reminder of the sacrifices imposed on colonized populations for the sake of imperial profit. The opium trade also had far-reaching implications for global geopolitics. The British strategy of exporting opium to China in exchange for tea led to widespread addiction in China, exacerbating social and economic challenges. Despite frequent bans by the Qing dynasty in China, as well as efforts by the Siamese in Thailand and the Vietnamese emperor to curb its spread, the trade persisted. The Qing dynasty eventually signed the Treaty of Nanjing in 1842, which opened Chinese ports to opium trade, marking a significant moment in the history of colonial domination and resistance.

The Dutch also played a key role in the opium trade, supplying the substance from central and eastern Europe to Indonesia and other parts of the East Indies. Their involvement underscores the multinational nature of the opium economy, with various colonial powers competing for control over its production and distribution. Despite the economic gains reaped by European powers, the opium trade left a legacy of addiction, social disruption, and economic dependency in the regions it touched. The Treaty of Nanjing not only facilitated the continuation of the opium trade but also symbolized the broader imbalance of power between imperial nations and their colonies.

I find myself wondering how Nepal managed to isolate itself from the global opium trade, which was so lucrative and pervasive among neighboring nations. The hippie culture that thrived in Nepal during the 1960s suggests that European travelers were drawn to the region for its marijuana and other substances. Yet, Nepal’s historical involvement in the opium trade remains unclear, raising questions about its role—or lack thereof—in this global narrative. Could it be that Nepal’s geographical and political isolation shielded it from the pressures of the opium economy? Or was there a deliberate effort by Nepalese rulers to distance the country from this exploitative trade?

Exploring Nepal’s position in the context of the opium trade reveals intriguing possibilities. While neighboring India and China were deeply entangled in the production and consumption of opium, Nepal’s mountainous terrain and relatively insular governance may have played a role in limiting its involvement. Additionally, Nepal’s historical focus on self-sufficiency and its unique socio-political structures could have contributed to its divergence from the dominant trade patterns of the time. The cultural and economic impacts of the hippie era in the 20th century suggest that Nepal has long been a site of cultural exchange, albeit on terms that differ significantly from those imposed during the colonial era.

The opium trade, as explored by Amitav Ghosh and other scholars, serves as a powerful lens through which to examine the intersections of history, economics, and human resilience. By unearthing the hidden histories of opium, we gain a deeper understanding of the forces that shaped the modern world. From the lush fields of Bengal to the bustling ports of Canton, the story of opium is one of ambition, exploitation, and resistance. Nepal’s relative absence from this narrative invites further exploration, offering a unique perspective on the ways in which nations navigate the pressures of global trade and colonial ambition.

Nothing ever leaves an ecstatic feeling in life than being closer to the mountains. Beautifully decked mountains with snow on the top and alpine meadow at the center make the soul and mind of wanderers ever happier. My trip to Tilicho has left an indelible mark in my life that I will cherish forever.

Mountains, the source of ecstasy for the wanderers, have been the subject of concerns ecologically after the ratification of the Paris accord in 2015. Literature on mountains and Himalayas one way or the other get high prominence among the writers of this era through their fictional and non-fictional work. Prominent among them is Amitav Ghosh who has been relentlessly writing about the impacts of climate change, swallowing the vast amount of property and millions of people affected across the world every year. Ghosh is a step ahead in raising the issue of climate impacts through his fictional work. The Gun Island, The Hungry Tide, and Sea of Puppies, for instance, precisely depict the impacts of floods and deforestation, affecting thousands of people and animals throughout the world. The typical way of storytelling that Ghosh adopts is amazing in terms of making the readers hooked to the issue he is raising through his characters. Deen and Piya, the characters he has poignantly used in ‘The Gun Island’ love each other selflessly despite hailing from different backgrounds. The love between them is not only the revelation of their intimacy itself but also the manifestation of how Sundarban, one of the areas of dense forest inhabited by various animals including the Bengal Tiger, have been losing their life over the years.

Having studied the literature on impacts of climate change has attracted me to delve into available literature as to how seriously the impacts authors have revealed in their works. More importantly, how have they affected life in Nepal? The book by Pradeep Bashyal and Ankit Babu Adhikari entitled ‘Sherpa: Stories of Life and Death from the Forgotten Guardians of Everest’ compelled me to dwell on the mountain literature in order to find what it exactly entails. Both authors have arduously researched the life of Sherpas and their contributions at popularizing Nepal to the world, revealing various anecdotes and incidents that the public rarely know about. My Tilicho trip brought me closer to the realities, something that I had studied in various forms of literature. I did see the Himalayas melting faster than ever. The discussion and interaction I was a part of, helped me know how their life has been affected by the climate change and melting of snow. The family I met en route to Tilicho at Menji of Manang district revealed the fact that the production on agriculture they used to have a couple of decades ago has now been limited due to the erratic weather events. Buckwheat and potatoes, which they used to produce a decade ago, are no longer produced in such a voluminous amount. Apple trees I saw surrounding their farm bore fewer apples compared to last year according to their observation. Similar was the case with the farm owner at Apple Valley, a popular stop on the way to Tilicho. I asked a man who was spreading pesticides on his apple orchard how his production has been over the years. He responded that his year-to-year production was not just dwindling, the size of the apples was also shrinking.

One-night stay at Menji in the house of Chandra Gurung helped us go deeper to the social realities of people living there. Porter by profession, Gurung has built a homestay with four rooms. Hailing from Gorkha, Gurung has been doing his own agriculture works besides working as a porter. There was a deep bond between him and his wife, who works as an assistant at a local health post. The couple’s combined earnings have helped them settle in Menji. A very charming lady, Gurung’s wife has been supporting her husband in the farm and homestay, but also raising and educating their five-year-old girl. The camaraderie between the two could be seen as both of them worked together while preparing the food for us in the kitchen. They have to work together to survive in the mountains.

The snowfall we experienced at Gurung’s homestay, beginning from the evening till midnight, made us realize how cold it could get in the depth of winter. 

As Gurung talked about how he got into the profession and the challenges faced by porters, he also recollected the blizzard at Thorangla Pass (5416m)  that killed scores of Israelis and Nepali people back in 2014. Hearing his story, I was overcome by fear that I could meet a similar fate in Tilicho. 

Dinner was served at around 8 pm. We had plates full of round breads of buckwheat with vegetables, Timur pickle and some ghee.

After a delicious meal, Gurung shared with us a tragic story that nearly had us in tears. The couple had lost their first child who had developed pneumonia just after five days of birth. The lack of health facilities nearby had been the prime cause of the death. I barely noticed the availability of health centers and pharmacies on the way to Tilicho. A very curious thought I still have is that why does Manang not have health facilities? The establishment of health centers would prevent many untimely and unwanted deaths.

Though the transport facility has reached all the way up to Khangsar, what Manang really needs is health facilities.