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On a long flight to Kathmandu, the man next to me said, “So, you are a professor—what do you teach?” I smiled. If only academic life were that simple. Teaching is only one part of what I do. Many imagine professors spending most of their time in classrooms. The truth is far broader: we supervise students, review research papers, write proposals, organize conferences, design new courses, serve on committees and sometimes travel across continents to share ideas. Being an academic is not just a job. It is a way of living and learning. Teaching, research and service are woven together, each influencing the others. A student’s question might spark a research idea. Writing a paper might change how I teach. Organizing a conference might lead to collaborations that last years. The philosopher Martin Heidegger called this “worldhood.” 

Our actions don’t exist as isolated tasks, but as parts of a larger, meaningful whole. Reviewing a paper, mentoring a student, preparing a lecture or attending a conference are all connected threads in the same fabric of academic life. Each gains significance from its connection to the others. Our work flows together in a daily rhythm that shapes our identity as academics. Some days are smooth; others are a blur of deadlines, meetings and rejections. But the rewards are real: a student finally grasping a difficult idea, a paper being accepted, a collaboration taking root. Guiding students is among the most satisfying parts of my job.

Watching them grow, thinking critically and discovering new things is deeply rewarding. Every discussion, assignment and piece of feedback is an investment in the next generation—not just in their knowledge, but in their ability to question, explore and contribute to the world. Research is another core pillar. Writing papers, reading others’ work and debating ideas with colleagues all feed into a global conversation. When I attend a conference—whether in Asia, Europe or Africa—I’m not just presenting my work; I’m listening, exchanging perspectives and finding new questions to explore. 

Often, the most important moments happen outside formal sessions: a conversation over coffee, a hallway debate, a chance meeting that sparks an unexpected project. Travel is not just about sightseeing, but also about connecting ideas and people. Each trip adds new threads to the academic fabric—perspectives from different cultures, insights from other disciplines and friendships that outlast any single project.

Academic life is always forward-looking: the next paper to write, the next course to design, the next student to mentor. Our work builds on the knowledge of those before us, and future scholars will build on ours. A lecture is never just a lecture; it’s part of a long chain of learning. A research paper is part of an ongoing conversation. Mentoring a student helps shape the future of our academic community.

Yes, there are challenges—funding struggles, heavy workloads, administrative tangles—but the rewards outweigh them. The freedom to explore ideas, the joy of learning continuously and the chance to inspire others make this life fulfilling. Back in Norway, I still think about my recent guest lecture at Madan Bhandari University of Science and Technology (MBUST) in Nepal.

I noticed how eager students were to explore ways to relate their research to their own community’s challenges. Seeing them connect academic concepts to real-world problems reminded me of the true purpose of teaching: helping students think critically, apply knowledge, and make a difference in the communities they care about. So, when people ask what I do, I find it hard to give a short answer. Being a professor is not a list of duties. 

It is curiosity, dedication and connection. It is the privilege of being part of a community of thinkers and learners. Each lecture, paper, and conversation add to a larger journey. Academia is not just a career. It is a calling—one that shapes how we live, think and relate to the world. For those of us who have chosen it, the journey is filled with challenges, discoveries and every so often, moments that make it all worthwhile.

A few months ago, a shocking incident unfolded in Balkot. A seemingly ordinary family was devastated when Milan Acharya murdered his father and brother in their sleep. He later admitted to the killings, attributing his action to stress and depression. Acharya claimed he did it to “free them,” revealing a deeply troubled state of mind.

Some months later, Lila Raj Giri murdered his seven-year-old daughter and five-year-old nephew in Bharatpur. He attacked the two children with a sickle before turning the weapon on himself. Giri was found in a critical condition and rushed to the hospital. A former soldier, authorities suspect Giri committed the murder due to a mental health crisis.

Similar tragedies continue to emerge across the country. In one recent case, a woman named Durbi from Morang district died after her husband, Babudhan Satar, attacked her in a domestic dispute. A neighbor who tried to intervene was also injured.
Not long after, Rajendra Rai murdered his wife Manisha and her four family members at Dhodlekhani village of Bhojpur. The incident followed months of conflict between Rai and his in-laws, who didn’t approve of marriage between him and their daughter. 

The above- mentioned cases are not random or isolated. In recent months, Nepal has witnessed a disturbing rise in violent crimes committed within families. These chilling cases reveal more than just crime; they point toward a larger, more complex social and psychological crisis.

As Lawrence R Samuel notes in The Psychology of Murder: “The taking of another person’s life was often the outcome of a strong emotion linked to a particular event and a close relationship.” Mental health struggles, unresolved conflicts, societal pressure, caste discrimination, and a lack of support systems may all be contributing factors. Yet the big question remains: Why are people committing these acts—and why do they seem unafraid of the legal consequences?

Is it a failure of the legal system? Or are we neglecting the mental health crisis quietly growing inside homes? The normalization—or even the increasing frequency—of such domestic tragedies demands more than just punishment.

Looking in the traditional Nepali society, it places a strong emphasis on family honor, obedience to elders, rigid gender roles, and social hierarchy. While these norms have historically maintained social cohesion, they often suppress individual emotions and discourage open conversations about mental health. The stigma around seeking help—especially for men or those facing emotional distress—can lead to bottled-up anger, isolation, and unresolved conflict within families. In cases where individuals challenge these norms (such as through love marriages or defying parental authority), tensions can escalate, sometimes with tragic consequences.

Psychiatrist Dr Rika Rijal explains, “In psychiatry, extreme domestic violence within families often emerges from severe depression with psychotic features, psychotic illnesses, unresolved trauma, or overwhelming stress. Individuals in such states may not perceive reality accurately. They might experience overwhelming guilt, or distorted beliefs that drive them toward harming loved ones.” Emotional isolation, personality issues, or long-standing family tensions can further compound the risk.

According to Dr Rijal, depression is not always quiet sadness— it can appear as anger, agitation, and irritability. “In some cases, unresolved trauma or feelings of helplessness may become so unbearable that the person externalizes their inner turmoil in destructive ways.” 

Within homes, this can tragically manifest as violence against family members—those closest and most vulnerable.

In the case of Acharya, the statement to “free” his family reflects a possible altruistic delusion, says Dr Rijal. “In such a state, the person falsely believes they are protecting loved ones. Sometimes, individuals extend their suicidal ideation outward, thinking that death is a form of relief not just for themselves but also for their family.” 

Such a thought process does not arise from cruelty but from a profoundly disordered perception of reality. Psychiatrists suggest that families and communities may also help and examine them carefully. There are different warning signs that includes withdrawal and social isolation, expressions of hopelessness or being a burden, sudden aggression, irritability, or erratic behaviour, talking about “ending suffering” or showing preoccupation with death, noticeable decline in daily functioning, such as neglecting hygiene, school, or work, use of substance etc. Recognizing these signs early can provide families and communities with a chance to intervene before crises escalate.

Nepal does have mental health resources, though they remain limited and underutilized. While psychiatric services at any hospital and NGOs like Transcultural Psychosocial Organization (TPO), KOSHISH, and CMC Nepal offer community-based psychosocial support, they are not widely accessible to those in need.

Dr Rijal says, stigma around mental illness, lack of mental health literacy, and geographical barriers prevent many at-risk individuals from accessing these services. She stresses strengthening community awareness and creating accessible mental health support could prevent such tragedies in the future.

According to Nepal Police, property and financial disputes, such as the division of family property or disagreements over land ownership, often spark deep-rooted tensions within households. These conflicts can escalate into family feuds, leading to strained relationships between spouses and even incidents of domestic violence. Officials say that in many cases, individuals involved may suffer from mental health issues like depression or more severe conditions such as psychosis, which further complicate the situation. 

Additionally, societal pressures—especially the emphasis on family honor—can intensify these challenges, with love affairs or inter-caste marriages often viewed as a threat to social respect. The situation is frequently worsened by the use of drugs and alcohol, which can fuel aggressive behavior and impair judgment, making peaceful resolution even more difficult. Lack of education and awareness also lead to these incidents and violence against women and dowry are some of the reasons behind these.

Cases of tourist deaths are increasing in the high Himalayan region due to avalanches during trekking.

Several fatalities have been reported in the Manang area, where trekkers ascend rapidly from low-altitude cities such as Kathmandu and Pokhara.

The traditional 21-day Annapurna Circuit trek has been shortened to about a week because of the road network.

However, this rapid ascent has increased the risk of avalanches and related deaths. Rabin Kadariya, head of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP), advised against moving directly from low to high altitudes, stressing that ACAP has been issuing notices and alerts to raise awareness among trekkers.

According to ACAP, 18 tourists died in the region during the fiscal year 2025/26, including six Nepalis, eight Indians, one American, one Korean, one German, and one Swiss. In 2023/24, 20 tourists lost their lives, including five Nepalis, 11 Indians, one British, two Malaysians, and one Ukrainian. Data shows Indian tourists have accounted for the highest number of fatalities.

Experts point out that Indian pilgrims, in particular, face health risks as they climb directly to altitudes of around 3,700 meters for religious purposes. Gandaki Provincial Assembly member Bikal Sherchan said he would raise the issue at the policy level, adding that awareness materials should be placed along the Annapurna Circuit to inform trekkers of the risks.

On Wednesday, a discussion was held in Pokhara on ensuring tourist safety in high-altitude areas, particularly against altitude sickness. The program was organized by Mustang-based Gharpajhong Rural Municipality in coordination with the Hotel Association Pokhara Nepal.

Tourism entrepreneurs highlighted growing concerns as tourists from Nepal’s Tarai and neighboring Indian cities increasingly travel directly to Muktinath in a single day, often returning without staying overnight. They warned that this practice not only increases health and safety risks but also reduces the duration of tourist stays.

Mohan Singh Lalchan, chairperson of Gharpajhong Rural Municipality, emphasized the dangers of ascending rapidly to altitudes above 2,800 meters. He urged tourists to acclimatize properly, take rest breaks, and wear warm clothing.

Similarly, Maniraj Lamichhane, head of Nepal Tourism Board Gandaki, recommended distributing informational booklets and placing safety boards at key locations. Krishna Prasad Acharya, chairperson of TAAN Gandaki, stressed that the mandatory use of Tourist Information Management System (TIMS) cards would enhance tourist safety.

The federal capital looks like the protest capital of Nepal, with protests of all sorts becoming a part and parcel of daily life. Just months after teachers and non-teaching staff of government schools launched a strident protest for the fulfillment of their ‘just demands’, teachers and principals of private schools have started hitting the streets of Kathmandu with their own set of demands.

The latest protest at Maitighar Mandala comes at a time when the Education, Health and Technology Committee of the House of Representatives is about to pass a Bill on school education.

Unveiling a phasewise protest, the protesters have warned that they will intensify their protest by shutting schools from Aug 25 if the government does not address their demands by then. So, what’s getting the protesters’ goat and pushing them onto the streets of Kathmandu from the classroom? Among the five points of objection, first and foremost is the bill’s intent to make private schools registered under the Company Act ‘nonprofit-oriented’. The removal of provisions on ‘full scholarship (the schools want to distribute scholarships on their own, but are okay with a transparent committee formed with the representation of concerned municipality/rural municipality distributing freeships), the end of the practice of schools supplying things not produced by them (uniform, educational materials, food, etc) and the removal of the rule allowing only students of community schools to enrol in CTEVT courses are among their major demands.

Apparently, the protesters have the backing of ‘umbrella organizations’ of schools such as PABSON, N-PABSON and HISSAN. In the wake of the recent protest, it will be worthwhile, once again, to revisit the preamble of our Constitution, which defines Nepal as an independent, indivisible, sovereign, secular, inclusive, democratic, socialism-oriented, federal democratic republican state.

The Bill may be one more half-hearted attempt of the government to gear toward socialism even as socialism remains an alien concept in different walks of our national life, including education. While the government should better regulate private educational institutions and try every bit to make education affordable for all by reigning in exorbitant fees and other charges (remember, right to education is a fundamental right), and make sure that only deserving candidates get freeships, robbing private schools of sources of profit may bleed them dry, causing the education system to collapse.

In the interest of students, parents and the society at large, the government and the protesters would do well to strive for a negotiated settlement.