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Cement and brick factories in and around Lumbini Province are contributing to elevated nitrogen dioxide (NO₂) pollution levels in Nepal, surpassing even those in the Kathmandu Valley.

A study led by Madhu S. Gyawali used high-resolution satellite data to track air pollution sources. The US-based research team included Gyawali, Lok N. Lamsal, Sujan Neupane, Bimal Gyawali, Keshav Bhattarai, Bradford Fisher, Nickolay Krotkov, Jos van Geffen, Henk Eskes, Shriram Sharma, Cameron Brunt, and Rudra Aryal. The researchers represented institutions such as San Jacinto College, NASA Goddard Space Flight Center, the University of Maryland Baltimore County, the Royal Netherlands Meteorological Institute (KNMI), Tribhuvan University, and Franklin Pierce University, among others.

Rudra Aryal, a professor at Franklin Pierce University, expressed deep concern over the rising pollution levels near Nepal’s brick and cement factories. “We’ve found that air pollution in this region could become fatal if not addressed promptly,” he warned.

The study analyzed NO₂ distribution from 2018 to 2021, focusing on emerging pollution sources from brick and cement factories. “The rapid expansion of these industries has made the Lumbini-Butwal-Palpa corridor more polluted than Kathmandu,” said Aryal. “Cross-border pollution emissions further exacerbate the problem.”

Nitrogen dioxide (NO₂), a key air quality indicator, was monitored using satellite data from the TROPOspheric Monitoring Instrument (TROPOMI). Findings revealed that NO₂ levels in the Lumbini-Butwal-Palpa corridor nearly doubled between 2019 and 2021, while levels in Kathmandu remained stable except for a temporary drop in 2020 due to Covid-19 restrictions.

A comparison between 2018 EDGAR emission data and 2019 TROPOMI estimates showed comparable NOₓ emissions in the Lumbini corridor but 35 percent higher satellite-derived estimates over Kathmandu. This discrepancy, along with surging emissions from cement and brick industries, underscores the urgent need for updated emission inventories, the study notes.

Published in ScienceDirect, the research highlights serious environmental and public health risks from unchecked air pollution.

Nepal has 114 registered cement plants, with 65 currently operational, producing 14 million metric tons annually. Production increased from 0.3 million tons (pre-2010) to 10 million tons (2018), driven by urbanization and infrastructure demands. A third of these plants are concentrated in the Lumbini-Butwal-Palpa corridor, near the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Lumbini. The Hongshi-Shivam Cement plant, operational since 2018, is the largest, producing 6,000 tons daily.

These industries rely on 171 licensed limestone mines, with raw materials transported by hundreds of heavy trucks. Coal imported from South Africa and India is burned at high temperatures (exceeding 1,400°C), releasing significant NOₓ emissions.

Meanwhile, 1,700 brick kilns across Nepal produce 5 billion bricks annually, primarily in the south-central and southeastern regions. Most operate only outside the June-August monsoon season. A 2014 report found that 50 percent of kilns use coal and rice husk, 26 percent use coal with biomass, and 24 percent rely solely on coal, emitting carbon monoxide, NOₓ, and black carbon.

Despite their environmental impact, brick production technology remains outdated and highly polluting. “The government must take immediate action to mitigate these deadly environmental and health hazards,” urged Aryal.

However, Nepal’s Ministry of Forests and Environment admits that beyond drafting policies, little concrete action has been taken to address the crisis.

The recent month-long teachers’ movement, which was driven by the demand for the immediate enactment of the Education Act, has underscored the need for urgent reforms in Nepal’s community education system. While the movement primarily focused on securing professional rights and employment stability, it largely sidelined issues related to the quality of education—raising concerns about whether such protests truly contribute to meaningful educational reform.

Although the movement did not directly address systemic improvements, some of its outcomes are expected to indirectly benefit school education. However, once the protest gained momentum, discussions around key policy issues that should have been addressed in the Education Act were overshadowed by demands for teachers’ rights and benefits. Experts argue that workplace stability and social security are key to unlocking educators' full potential.

Despite this understanding, various categories of teachers have been created over time—often due to political favoritism and donor-driven programs—leading to further complications. A lack of timely problem-solving by authorities has emboldened protestors, allowing them to dominate education discourse more than the official mechanisms.

Two major factors are seen as the primary reasons behind the delay in passing the Education Act. First, existing education policy mandates that institutional schools be converted into trusts after a certain period, a point of contention. Second, the government has yet to clearly decide whether to enforce the constitutional provision of free school education or to redefine the objective of school education altogether.

This delay is further complicated by a conflict of interest. Many political leaders own institutional schools and hold influential positions in the education sector. This dual role hinders the creation of unbiased legislation. Moreover, although the constitution and laws guarantee compulsory and free education up to grade eight, in practice, community schools continue to charge parents monthly fees under various pretexts, including for “support” and administrative costs. Even the Examination Board collects fees under the guise of registration and exam charges.

Given these realities, there is growing acknowledgment within the current leadership that making school education entirely free may not be feasible without compromising quality. As the debate continued following the submission of a parliamentary subcommittee’s report, attention remained fixed on teacher adjustments—such as increasing the number of positions and making temporary or contract-based teachers permanent—rather than addressing deeper issues within the education system.

Meanwhile, data from the Economic Survey sheds light on structural challenges within community schools. Of the 27,990 community schools operating nationwide, 15,965 have fewer than 100 students. Organizing proper teaching and staffing for such small student populations is highly complex. Another 9,704 schools have between 100 and 500 students, while only around 1,600 schools enroll more than 1,000 students—suggesting that only a small fraction meet the criteria for being considered standard schools.

This data indicates that the current focus of debate is detached from the pressing needs of the education sector. In light of this, restructuring and consolidating schools should be part of the broader reform agenda. While merging schools may be necessary, it alone cannot solve the problem. Instead, implementing multi-grade teaching systems with appropriate teacher training in sparsely populated areas could address the challenges more effectively.

As the government prepares to introduce the new School Education Act, it is crucial to base reforms on ground realities. A task force composed of independent experts should be formed to study the actual conditions of community schools. Without considering factors such as Nepal’s diverse geography, migration patterns, and shifting parental attitudes, any hastily prepared legislation risks exacerbating existing problems. While the government has proposed issuing the act by July 29, education stakeholders argue that taking four to six additional months to develop a more comprehensive and responsive law would be more beneficial in the long run.

Seventeen years ago, on this day, then Home Minister Krishna Prasad Sitaula was negotiating with King Gyanendra Shah to ensure a smooth transition from monarchy to republic. The following day—May 29, 2008—the first meeting of the Constituent Assembly (CA) decided to abolish Nepal’s 249-year-old monarchy.

Since then much water has flowed under the Bagmati bridge, yet royalist forces are now mobilizing for what they call a “decisive movement” to restore the monarchy and Hindu state. Meanwhile, republican forces are preparing to celebrate Jestha 15 (May 29) as Republic Day, showcasing their strength. With royalist groups gearing up for a “final showdown” and the CPN-UML-led republican camp vowing to counter them, there are fears of potential violence in Kathmandu.

On Tuesday, top royalist leaders met with a group of editors to assure their upcoming protests would remain peaceful and non-violent. Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP) Chairperson Rajendra Lingden said: “Our Kathmandu-centric protests, beginning May 29, will be a form of civil disobedience—peaceful and non-violent.” He also urged the press to objectively monitor their protests to ensure accountability if violence erupts.

The previous royalist protest in Kathmandu on March 28 had turned violent, resulting in two deaths, vandalism of businesses, and an arson attack on Annapurna Media Network. Royalist forces blame government agencies for the violence.

Lingden also criticized Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli’s recent call to his cadres to “seize Kathmandu Valley for a few hours,” on May 29, warning that such remarks could incite unrest. The RPP chairman was joined by veteran royalist leaders Kamal Thapa, Navaraj Subedi, and Keshar Bahadur Bista. They all emphasized their commitment to peaceful protest while demanding their constitutionally protected right to protest. 

There is growing curiosity about the scale, influence, and sustainability of the royalist movement. Why are they so confident this time? Kamal Thapa, chairman of Rastriya Prajatantra Party-Nepal, said: “After 2006, this is the first time all parties and groups advocating for monarchy and a Hindu state have united.” He claimed 45 parties and factions—led by Panchayat-era leader Subedi—have joined the movement, capitalizing on what they see as the most favorable political climate in 17 years. The upcoming royalist protest follows a series of consultations with former king Gyanendra, who has increasingly encouraged supporters through public statements. Recently, he held a luncheon meeting with senior royalist leaders to discuss the movement. Those who met him reported unusual confidence from Gyanendra about the monarchy's possible revival.

Asked how royalists plan to achieve their goals—including constitutional amendments requiring a two-thirds parliamentary majority—Thapa responded: “Our strategy is mass mobilization, pressuring the political establishment to negotiate.” He argued the same method was adopted during the political changes of 1990 and 2006.

However, government and major political parties are in no mood to talk with the royalist forces stating that those who will go against the constitution will be punished. Thapa said while the 2015 Constitution permits peaceful advocacy, the government is amending laws to criminalize pro-monarchy and Hindu-state agendas. 

Despite the show of unity, internal coordination remains unclear, particularly regarding leadership of the May 29 protest. RPP leaders admit that the psychological impact of March 28 violence has dampened morale of party cadres and monarchy supporters alike, which could potentially reduce the May 29 turnout. The government has filed cases against 61 individuals, including RPP leaders Rabindra Mishra, Dhawal Shumsher Rana, and protest “commander” Durga Prasai in connection to the March 28 violence. 

Still, royalist parties have vowed to continue their peaceful movement until their demands are met, but major parties remain unlikely to compromise. Their core demands include: restoration of the monarchy, reinstatement of Nepal as a Hindu state, and abolition of federalism.

Despite their call for restoration of the monarchy, not all royalist parties appear keen on putting Gyanendra back on the throne. Thapa said: “If there is a consensus among the political parties, Hridayendra (grandson of Gyanendra) could be king.”

With limited street power and minimal parliamentary influence, the royalist movement faces dim prospects. This time, the push seems driven by Gyanendra’s pressure rather than genuine momentum. The overall tone of Tuesda’'s interaction with editors revealed royalists’ persistent fear of another March 28-like violence, casting doubt on their ability to sustain a peaceful campaign.

Not long ago, people had to walk for days and spend nights in assorted places to reach Rara Lake, tucked away in the mid-western region of Nepal. But with the construction of roads, the number of people treading through the path had significantly gone down and it took a toll on people who earned their livelihood from the hotels, homestays and shops they ran in the area. By degrees, people started quitting their businesses and switched to another profession.

Nestled at an altitude of 2,990 meters and spanning 10.8 square kilometers across Jumla and Mugu districts, Rara Lake is Nepal’s deepest freshwater lake.

Popular for its unruffled and splendid nature, the clean and pristine blue waters never fail to mesmerize visitors.

Turning the pages of history, Rara Lake was known as “Rara Daha” for years. Once, when late king Mahendra was traveling around the country on a helicopter, he happened to reach the basin. The enchanting beauty of the waterbody lured King Mahendra, impelling him to describe the lake as ‘Swarga ki Apsara”. He later named the lake as Rara Lake.

On April 24, 2015, my friends and I planned a trip to Rara Lake. But the very next day, Nepal was struck by a devastating 7.8 magnitude earthquake, claiming nearly 9,000 lives, injuring 22,000, and causing widespread destruction.

Along with the earthquake, our plan to visit the largest and deepest freshwater lake surrounded by magnificent conifer forests was also disrupted by the unforeseen event.

They say when you truly desire something, the universe conspires to make it happen. A decade later, some friends planned a trek to Rara via Jumla, following an old route to explore the rich cultural heritage of Nepal’s western hills. I couldn’t resist joining—this was my chance to finally witness the legendary beauty of Rara Lake which I had been hearing the bewildering tales.

Gulping down the hearty breakfast, I headed to Gongabu Bus Park where other friends were waiting for me.

Our adventure began at 7 am, growing more thrilling with every turn—until we hit a massive traffic jam in Gaindakot, Nawalparasi. Taking a detour via the Kaligandaki corridor added an extra 100 km, but it spared us a 24-hour gridlock.

The Karnali Highway, linking Surkhet and Jumla, was an adrenaline-pumping experience—narrow, rugged, and carved through rocky cliffs. Watching the Karnali River rush beneath Kakilot’s steep drops was both terrifying and exhilarating. As we entered Jumla, the roads improved, and the scenery transformed.

Driving along the Tila River at sunset, with apple orchards and golden paddy fields stretching beside us, felt like a dream. Soon, we reached Khalanga, Jumla’s district headquarters, where we were warmly welcomed by Hari Bahadur Rokaya, an international marathon runner and Guinness World Record holder. Despite his global fame, he remains underappreciated in Nepal. He even arranged two of his students as our guides.

Before starting our trek, the next morning, we explored Khalanga, offering prayers at Chandan Nath Baba and Bhairabnath Temple for a safe journey.

The trail wound past glistening streams, stone houses nestled among apple farms, and cherry blossoms in full bloom—like a scene from a postcard.

After a three-hour uphill hike, we reached Chehre for a local breakfast, then continued to Danfe Lek (3,800 meters), a challenging climb due to the steep ascent and altitude.

From Danfe Lek, the view of Khalanga Valley and Jumla was surreal—snow-dusted peaks, rhododendron and pine forests, and vast meadows stretched before us.

Reaching Khali, I was spellbound: endless grasslands, crystal-clear streams, grazing sheep, and snow-capped mountains made me feel like I’d stepped into a fairy tale. The sheer beauty brought tears to my eyes—yet it saddened me to think how such pristine landscapes are often exploited for short-term gain.

After lunch, we trekked until dusk, staying overnight in Nyaurigad, a quaint hamlet by the Tila River.

Over dinner, we learned that the late Prince Dipendra and Princess Shruti had once stayed there during a hunting trip.

The next morning, we descended through villages like Bumro and Kabra, passing lush rhododendron forests and immersing ourselves in local culture. Breakfast in Chautha and lunch in Bhubhule (the gateway to Mugu and Rara National Park) fueled us for the day’s toughest challenge: crossing Ghuchi Lek. We spent the night by the Jyari River, where the lodging was surprisingly better than the previous stop.

On the third day, we finally reached Rara Lake via Jyrai Village and Salleri. Its crystal-clear waters, vibrant fish, and emerald hills left me speechless—no childhood tales had done it justice. We soaked in the views, capturing photos and videos, while a question nagged at me: Why hasn’t Nepal promoted this paradise to the world?

A boat ride across the lake offered fleeting glimpses of snow-capped peaks through the fog. Later, we rode horses to Murma Top Eco Resort, hoping for clearer skies the next day. But luck wasn’t on our side—rain loomed overhead. “On a clear day, you can see Humla, Jumla, Bajura, Badimalika, Dolpa, even China,” our guide said wistfully.

Undeterred, we pressed on toward Sinja Valley, tackling the trek’s toughest stretch: Chuchhemara Lek (4,039 meters), the highest point in Rara National Park. The steep climb felt effortless amid the breathtaking scenery—century-old deodar trees, dark pink rhododendrons, secluded lakes, and sprawling meadows.

A local mentioned this trail was once favored by German and French trekkers but has faded into obscurity due to the Maoist insurgency and new roads bypassing it.

Reaching Chuchhemara’s jagged peaks surpassed all expectations. Exhausted, drenched, but exhilarated, we finally arrived in Sinja Valley—the birthplace of the Nepali language and the national dress, Daura Suruwal.

The final leg of our journey took us from Sinja back to Khalanga. The turquoise Hima River, apple orchards, thatched-roof homes, and rhododendron forests evoked comparisons to Kashmir—earning Jumla its nickname, “Nepal’s Kashmir.” My dream of visiting Kashmir felt fulfilled here. As dusk fell at Jaljala Pass (3,800 meters), we faced our longest, toughest day, reaching the hotel by 10 p.m.

With hearts full of memories and promises to return, we boarded the bus to Kathmandu at 5 a.m., arriving after a grueling 30-hour drive.

This trek was more than a journey—it was a pilgrimage through Nepal’s natural splendor, cultural roots, and forgotten history. Sadly, as roads expand, this majestic trail risks being lost to time.

Photos: Achitra Thieng