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Purna Bahadur Rawat of Rawat village in Bheri Municipality-1, Jajarkot, has been living in a tin hut for the past two years after losing his house in the earthquake. His situation worsened after he lost his two sons. Now, he lives miserably in the cramped shelter, one room for all belongings, another for cooking and sleeping. While he has endured all seasons in this fragile structure, the monsoon brings new hardship. The roof has started leaking, and when the wind-driven rain hits, it becomes nearly impossible to sleep.

“Two years have passed waiting for the government to build a permanent house,” Rawat said. “We are still forced to live in a tin shack that scorches in the sun and leaks in the rain. I’m still grieving the loss of my son, who had just started eating solid food. We’re suffering without a decent place to live. Who will understand the pain of earthquake victims?”

Rawat’s temporary shelter was built by the Youth Awakening and Rehabilitation Center. However, the local government has yet to register him in the disaster portal, meaning he hasn’t received a detailed damage assessment (DDA). Like him, others not listed in the portal have also been excluded from receiving their DDA.

Similarly, Kalika Shah of Bheri Municipality-1 said an NGO called Sosek had helped build temporary housing immediately after the disaster. But now, as the government prepares to provide reconstruction grants, they’ve been left out due to the lack of a DDA.

This is the situation for many survivors of the 23 November 2023 earthquake, which killed 154 people and damaged over 70,000 private homes across Jajarkot, Rukum West, and Salyan. The government provided Rs 50,000 per family for temporary shelter. In the immediate aftermath, newly appointed leaders arrived, distributed relief, and promised swift reconstruction. But now, survivors are stuck in leaking tin huts and facing pressure from banks, as no permanent housing has been provided.

During the rainy season, many families stay awake all night in fear. “We live in constant dread when it rains. We don’t even know when we’ll receive the reconstruction grant,” said Gopal Lohar of Nalgad-1, Chiuri. As frustration grew after DDA results were published, earthquake victims locked their ward offices. Those still living in tents remain in disarray, particularly with the onset of the monsoon.

Seventeen months after the earthquake, the government has only recently begun DDA work in earnest. When the names of completed wards were published, residents of Wards 3, 4, and 12 of Nalgad Municipality locked their ward offices in protest, halting further activity. Locals are demanding that even damaged houses be eligible for reconstruction support—regardless of whether they lie within the district boundaries.

Badri Bahadur Pant, ward chair of Nalgad-4, said that everyone who received the Rs 50,000 for temporary shelter should be included in the reconstruction program. Although the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Authority (NDRRMA) had announced the start of reconstruction in July, delays persist due to procedural confusion and local-level indifference.

In Nalgad-3, a total of 654 households were listed as beneficiaries, with 475 eligible for reconstruction—of which 440 are under construction and 35 under general maintenance or reinforcement. However, 179 houses identified for reconstruction are still not on the official list. Ward Secretary Uttam Chand said that when agreements for reconstruction began, people left off the list locked the ward office. Administrative work has since been disrupted, delaying the reconstruction further.

In Nalgad-4, of 436 assessed households, only 311 were certified for reconstruction. The remaining 141 have been left out. This pattern is repeated across the district. Nearly all mud-brick homes were damaged and remain unsafe. Yet, many residents continue to live in them, holding onto the hope of eventual reconstruction support.

“The padlocks are a cry for justice,” said Dhan Bahadur Rawal of Nalgad-4, whose name was not included in the DDA list. Officials claim that homes without visible damage or those owned elsewhere are excluded in accordance with the 2024 Reconstruction Procedure. But Rawal and others argue that the DDA list is arbitrary and discriminatory.

Ganesh Sharma of Nalgad-4 warned that if the ward office does not revise its list, the municipality office will also face padlocks. CPN (Maoist Center) leader Ramdeep Acharya said that laws causing harm to victims must be amended. “It’s not possible to reinforce homes made of stone and clay. These homes must be fully rebuilt,” he said. “It’s the state’s responsibility to ensure no citizen suffers from unjust exclusions.”

Nepali Congress leader Chhabi Panta added, “Our voices on the earthquake issue have been repeatedly ignored. There's widespread anger. If officials think mud-and-stone homes are safe, then let them live in these cracked houses.”

CPN-UML leader Niraj Acharya echoed similar concerns, calling for a reconsideration of the DDA conducted nearly 18 months after the earthquake. “Mud and stone homes should be rebuilt. Those left out must be included,” he said. “The state must listen to the victims.”

The risks of inaction are becoming deadly. In Tarpena, Kushe Rural Municipality-3, two sisters, Chandra Budha, 14, and Sharmila Budha, 16, were killed when a large stone fell from a damaged roof and collapsed their house. Last year, over a dozen people died in landslides during the rains. Today, dozens of settlements remain at high risk.

Geologists have warned that more than two dozen settlements in Jajarkot are vulnerable to collapse and must be relocated. The local administration has issued alerts across Barekot, Nalgad, Bheri, and Shivalaya municipalities.

The establishment of the Earthquake Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Project Implementation Unit Office in Rimna, Jajarkot, had raised hopes. During its inauguration, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak promised there would be “no more delays” in reconstruction. “Whatever has happened until now, there will be no delay moving forward,” he said.

Mayor of Nalgad Municipality Dambar Bahadur Rawat acknowledged the urgency: “Victims are suffering in tin huts. In some wards, reconstruction has stalled due to local protests and office lockdowns.”

Jajarkot’s Chief District Officer Mekh Bahadur Magranti said the delays stem from verification steps following DDA completion. “Some beneficiaries were verified just recently, and their lists have reached local authorities. However, confusion around formal beneficiary recognition is holding things up,” he said. Reconstruction will begin once municipalities complete these steps.

The government has committed to providing Rs 400,000 per household for rebuilding, Rs 250,000 for reinforcement, and Rs 100,000 for general repairs. Technicians are being mobilized to complete DDA verification in the affected districts. So far, around 22,000 beneficiaries in Doti, Bajhang, Bajura, Salyan, Rukum West, and Jajarkot have been verified.

“Prabin, (name changed), go and give ten rupees to the men disturbing us with their loud music. They never care whether people like it or not.”

This was the remark I overheard from a seemingly educated woman in our neighborhood, directed at a person with a disability who was singing last Saturday. Her words reflect a broader societal attitude—one that dismisses the abilities of differently-abled individuals, ignoring their potential in countless areas where they may even surpass those without disabilities.

Tracing the history of disability perceptions takes us back to ancient civilizations like Mesopotamia, Greece, Egypt, and Rome, where religious beliefs dominated explanations for physical and mental differences. Disability was often seen either as divine punishment or an opportunity for charity. Scholars like Mel Ainscow and Russel Johnson, known for their work on inclusive education, argue that these archaic views still linger in traditional societies today. Johnson, in his seminal work Health and Disability, notes how religious doctrines historically excluded people with disabilities from mainstream life. For instance, early Jewish traditions viewed disability as God’s punishment, while Christians saw it as a chance for charity and spiritual merit.

With medical advancements, these myths gradually faded, but new challenges emerged. The medical model framed disability as an illness or deficiency, shifting the focus toward treatment rather than inclusion. Today, policymakers and global stakeholders recognize inclusive education as essential for ensuring equality, yet societal attitudes remain slow to change.

Nepal’s constitution explicitly guarantees fundamental rights to all, regardless of physical or mental disability. Article 42(3) affirms that people with disabilities have the same rights to dignity, self-respect, and access to public services as anyone else. Yet, in reality, little has changed in how they are perceived and treated. Why does this gap persist? Some may blame lingering religious biases, while others point to inadequate policies that fail to empower them.

The truth is simple: when given equal opportunities and support, people with disabilities thrive. I’ve witnessed firsthand how learning sign language can transform a person’s ability to engage with society. Globally, figures like Nick Vujicic (a limbless motivational speaker and author), Andrea Bocelli (a blind singer who sold over 75 million records), and Nepal’s own Hari Budha Magar (a double above-knee amputee who summited Everest) prove that determination and opportunity can break any barrier.

The media also plays a crucial role in reshaping perceptions. The Oscar-winning short film The Silent Child portrays how a deaf girl, Libby, flourishes with proper sign language education, despite her family’s low expectations. Similarly, Sitaare Zameen Par (a follow-up to Taare Zameen Par) humorously yet powerfully depicts how a basketball coach trains a team of players with disabilities, showing that patience, tailored guidance, and belief in their potential lead to extraordinary progress.

The lesson is clear: with the right support, people with disabilities can achieve greatness. Inclusivity, a core tenet of our constitution, must move beyond paper and into practice. Only by recognizing their capabilities and providing meaningful opportunities can we truly build an equitable society.

In Madhes, climate change is reshaping daily life—from dwindling water sources to declining rice yields. Locals say they feel increasingly alienated from the very elements that once sustained them. “Neither the rice feels like ours anymore, nor the water,” many say, as the region struggles with dried-up springs, parched fields, and water scarcity so severe that families must walk miles just to fetch a bucket.

The crisis has intensified to the point that the Madhes government has officially declared the region a drought-hit zone. With no monsoon rains this year, paddy planting has been severely disrupted—deepening the struggles of a region that relies almost entirely on rain-fed agriculture. While the provincial government plans to request relief funds from the federal government, there is still no long-term strategy in place to address the growing water crisis.

“I remember when it used to rain nonstop for two months,” recalls 65-year-old Sumitra Sada from Mahottari district. “Back then, every man, woman, and child would be busy in the fields planting rice. But now the season has come and gone without enough rain. We try to pump underground water through borewells, but whenever we do that, the hand pumps across the village run dry.”

The crisis is not just environmental—it’s cultural. Traditional Madhesi meals, once celebrated for fragrant aged rice, homemade ghee, and fresh backyard vegetables, are disappearing. “Fifteen years ago, we used to store large quantities of aged rice for weddings and rituals,” says 75-year-old Bedananda Jha from Janakpur. “Now the granaries are empty. We’re forced to buy polished, tasteless rice from across the border.”

According to government data, Madhes currently produces 2.77m metric tons of paddy. But to meet national demand and reduce imports, the region would need to expand rice farming by nearly 190,000 hectares. Similar production gaps exist for corn and wheat, posing a serious threat to food security.

The region’s once-abundant water sources—rivers, hand pumps, and wells—are drying up. In places like Birgunj, groundwater levels have dropped so drastically that families must now dig as deep as 400 feet to install a hand pump, at a cost of over Rs 150,000. “Water that once came from 100 feet now requires machines and generators to access,” says local resident Umesh Mandal.

To cope, Birgunj Metropolitan City has begun distributing water through tankers and temporary tanks. But experts warn these are merely short-term fixes. “The water crisis will only deepen unless we invest in groundwater recharge and proper conservation,” says hydrologist Pratap Singh Tatar. “People used to share hand pumps; now each home wants its own. There’s no regulation on irrigation borewells, and water is being over-extracted without recharge.”

Only three percent of Madhes residents use piped water from the national utility, while over 70 percent depend on hand pumps and tubewells. But with groundwater levels falling even in rural areas, the future looks bleak.

Experts also point to the degradation of the Chure hills—once considered the “lifeline” of Madhes. Forests that used to absorb rainwater and replenish underground aquifers are being destroyed due to logging, grazing, and encroachment. As the hills go bald, less water flows down to the plains.

“If we fail to protect Chure, Madhes could turn into a desert,” warns environmentalist Vijaya Singh Danuwar. “Chure is our mother. It traps monsoon clouds and releases water gradually. Without forests, there’s no mechanism to hold or distribute the rain.”

Farmers across Madhes are being pushed to the brink. With unreliable rainfall and limited irrigation, they now spend up to Rs 500 an hour to pump water using fire trucks just to transplant rice seedlings. By early July last year, 45 percent of paddy planting was completed. This year, it’s just 25 percent.

Although irrigation coverage increased slightly to 273,410 hectares in 2023/24, most of it depends on canals, ponds, and borewells—many of which are now failing due to water shortages.

Once known as Nepal’s rice bowl, Madhes now struggles to feed itself. While the total area under cultivation may have grown slightly, yields have declined. Agricultural economist Devendra Gauchan blames climate change: “We’re seeing more droughts, heatwaves, floods, and pest outbreaks—all of which reduce productivity. This region, which once exported rice, now imports it.”

Experts say the water crisis in Madhes is not just a natural disaster, but a human-made one—driven by poor planning, unchecked groundwater extraction, climate change, and government inaction.

“We can’t stop climate change,” says hydrologist Tatar, “but we can minimize its effects. What’s happening in Madhes is a warning. If we don’t act now, the cost tomorrow will be unbearable—for food, for water, and for life itself.”

Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) Chairperson Rajendra Lingden’s decision to remove the party’s disciplinary chief Navaraj Subedi and spokesperson Sagun Sunder Lawoti has intensified internal divisions.

Earlier, Subedi publicly declared that he had relinquished all party responsibilities, including his ordinary membership, to lead the pro-monarchy movement. Since then, both Subedi and Lawoti have been actively involved in royalist activities. They subsequently filed complaints with the Election Commission, challenging their removal. Subedi argued that Lingden’s decision violated the party’s statute.

Party spokesperson Mohan Shrestha stated that Lingden dismissed Subedi and appointed Roshan Karki as the new head of the disciplinary committee. Shrestha contended that since Subedi had already abandoned his ordinary membership, he could not hold any position without his reinstatement. However, senior leaders, including General Secretary Dhawal Shumsher Rana and Prakash Chandra Lohani, opposed the move.

“The party president’s decision to remove me breached the party’s statute because there was no Central Committee decision or prior consultation with me,” Subedi said.

Tensions have long simmered between senior leaders Rabindra Mishra and Dhawal Shumsher Rana. On March 28, they joined mass protests at the call of Durga Prasain, defying the party leadership. Both Mishra and Rana face court cases for allegedly inciting violence but have since walked free on bail.

The removal of Lawoti as spokesperson and Subedi as disciplinary chief further angered rival factions, who called the moves unconstitutional. Critics have accused Lingden of weak leadership in the royalist movement, pressuring him to launch a decisive campaign to restore the monarchy. However, Lingden maintained that the time was not yet ripe for such an effort.

Although RPP eventually announced a prolonged and decisive movement, it fizzled out quickly. For some time, a faction within the party has been privately urging former king Gyanendra Shah that the movement cannot succeed under Lingden’s leadership, contributing to strained relations between the two.