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Rivers and mountains have been and will continue to be an enduring feature of Nepal-China friendship. Rugged terrains and rare rough patches in bilateral relationship notwithstanding, people-to-people exchanges between the two countries have thrived and will, in all likelihood, continue to thrive in the coming days, years and ages. The visit of Faxian to Lumbini, the birthplace of Gautam Buddha, in the fifth century, the visit of Xuanzang in the seventh century, the marriage of Nepali Princess Vrikuti with King Songtsen Gampo in the seventh century and the visit of Nepali monk Buddhabhadra, the first Nepali monk to visit China, in the fifth century and the contributions of Nepali artist Arniko in China, including the construction of the White Pagoda, are among the key highlights of these exchanges.

Nepali people, including those living in the Himalayan region, have thriving relations with the Chinese people. They get their supplies from nearby Chinese markets, graze their cattle in pastures across the border in accordance with mutual arrangements, sell their products across the border and often find their soulmates there.

About 70 years ago, our two ancient countries established (updated, rather) their diplomatic relations. These years have also been marked by peace and amity between the two neighbors, with no major dispute, border or otherwise. This relationship achieved a key milestone during this time with the construction of the Kodari highway that has played a key role in improving connectivity between our two countries. Yet another highlight of this relationship is increasing Chinese investment in infrastructure projects. 

Against this backdrop, recent times have seen a disturbing tendency of dragging China’s flagship BRI project into controversy. They are as strong as the soaring mountains and as dynamic as the rivers born there. 

China can help Nepal tap the potential of her rivers for injecting life into her economy by investing in or providing assistance for the construction of multipurpose projects with hydropower, irrigation, navigation, fisheries and drinking water as components. There is also a huge scope for transformation of fossil fuel-run transport systems into green energy-run systems.  It can also help make sure that Gautam Buddha International Airport and Pokhara International Airport take off in a real sense.

On its part, Nepal will continue to be sensitive toward Chinese security concerns and abide by the principle of Panchsheel.      

In summary, Nepal-China relationship has a huge scope. Let’s hope that Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli’s upcoming visit to China will be yet another step in realizing that scope. 

When I first learned about H through a mutual friend, I had a strange intuition that he wouldn’t stay in Nepal for long. He seemed like someone just passing through—a fleeting presence. It was only a matter of time, I thought. Our first meeting happened on the quiet streets of Ratna Chowk. After hours of staring at a screen, I had stepped out for a break, craving a change of scenery. That’s when I met H. I introduced myself, and he did the same. At the time, the introductions felt like a mere formality, even unnecessary.

Now, years later, when I look back on that moment, it fills me with a deep sense of sadness for H. The confidence with which he said he was planning to go to Australia was sublime. Now I find it amusing to have assumed that the first encounter with H was also going to be the last. Over the years, H and I have celebrated countless birthdays together, made plans for weekends, and even acted as hosts, inviting our friends over to the nightclubs in Lakeside. So much has changed between the day we met and today—from his dream country to the paths I’ve chosen in my education. I don’t know why, but despite so many differences, we are similar in some ways.

In 2018, the year we met, I was doing my bachelor’s in IT, and H was taking IELTS classes. H’s room was just a five-minute walk from the flat where I stayed. One day, when we met for a walk in the evening, H proposed that I go to his room after finishing our usual rounds. There was no harm, I thought, and followed him into the narrow alley. Little did I know that the dark streets leading to his room were ominous.

‘Hell’ was the first word that came to my mind upon seeing the room that housed as many as four other boys—three of whom I already knew from playing cricket. If I weren’t visiting his room for the first time, I would’ve immediately labeled their accommodation as ‘hell.’ Coughing and dodging the smoke emanating from the thin sticks of cigarettes, I reached the far corner of the room, where a table and a plastic chair were lined up against the peeling wall. When I looked at H, he flashed me a rabbit-like smile, a gesture kindly coaxing me to hold a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke,” I said loudly enough to startle everyone. Only H seemed disappointed at my revelation, and at the time, I couldn’t make out why there were deep folds between his brows. Later, when someone lying in the bed informed me that H was a chain smoker, he got provoked by the statement and pulled out a stick from the packet of Surya, the rabbit smile once again restored on his big, round face. I had accustomed myself to the raw smell of smoke, though my nose was already burning. When I looked out the window, I realized I had stayed longer than I had meant to. But the boys in the room, along with H, had assumed I would be staying for the night. So, when I told them I was leaving, their faces fell, and I ended up staying for the sake of my new friendship.

There were enough beds, so I guessed no one had to sleep on the cold, hard floor. But I still remember that no one slept that night—not even in the beds. Talks about life ensued. I bought my favorite wine for myself, and the boys got their own drinks. The landlord who lived upstairs either had to be deaf or lenient, for he didn’t interfere even when the voices boomed deafeningly loud. It’s not in me to open up so easily, but that night, I ended up saying so many things I thought I would never share with anyone.

When it was H’s turn, he looked around at everyone, searching their faces, but no one seemed attentive at all. Then his eyes locked with mine. A friend sitting next to me glanced at me and remarked, “You are today’s victim. H is going to recount the same story for like a hundredth time.”  

In a high-pitched voice that didn’t sound the slightest bit gentle, H blabbered on about what he thought was the worst story of his life—a breakup with his girlfriend, who had cheated on him with someone else. The others had started finding the story funny because of the repetition, but I genuinely felt bad for H that night. As for me, I didn’t share stories of my love affairs or childhood but something deeper: life, its complexities, and how time treats it. Unlike H’s story, everyone listened to my wisdom, perhaps because it was being delivered for the first time. I knew that, just like H’s story, my wisdom would also suffer from a lack of audience someday.

Now, it has been eight years since that sleepless night. H has most probably faced eight rejections from the foreign embassy. And with how he goes about his life, I’m not surprised at all. He is still trying to flee abroad, his every attempt futile, feeble, to the point that no one takes him seriously these days. At first, it was Australia, then the UK, then Malta, Croatia...

On the other hand, I have upgraded from bachelor’s to master’s, but now if someone asks me what subjects I studied in my bachelor’s, I certainly can’t name them. I don’t even know their applications. I studied, worked hard for the exams, even passed with flying colors. But the results, the theories I studied in my bachelor’s degree have never once come to use. And I’m not the only one bearing the brunt of disillusionment. There are regrets. If only my college had connected me to the industry! If only I had chosen some other subjects! But then, everyone lives with their own regrets; I’m no exception.

Even today, I go to university aimlessly, just to listen to the graying professors, hopeful that their monologues might morph me into a slightly better human, an informed professional. The odds are low, the uselessness of my degree apparent, even translucent. Even H mocked me for diverging from a technical background to a business degree.

“MBA is the most reputed degree, and it’s good for people coming from a technical background,” I tried to sound sensible, but he just showed his teeth. Even he knew I wasn’t convinced by my own statement.

Talking about H, I don’t know what country he is eyeing now, because I have lost interest in keeping track of it. Even though we meet regularly, I have stopped asking about his process, which is always underway. Nevertheless, for the last eight years, we often go out at night on weekends, and sometimes it’s just us—H and me.

H said in our last meeting that he will be gone to Chitwan for over a month, so we have been drafting a plan to celebrate his farewell—a farewell so trifling that it doesn’t even deserve to be celebrated. But all we need is an excuse.

Next week, in the quiet of Lakeside, at some rooftop café, we will be toasting for the umpteenth time—me sipping my favorite wine and H his usual drinks. In between our sips, we will ceremoniously talk about the first night we drank together. About the absurd ideas, the revelations, and the friends—some already in foreign lands, some married, and one other dead who hung himself in a hotel room.

After completing my six-year tenure as an election commissioner in July 2000, I decided not to return to teaching, my original profession. Instead of confining myself to the classroom, I decided to write articles on electoral matters to share my ideas with the people at large.

In the beginning of 2001, Padmaratna Tuladhar invited me to meet a foreigner (whose name I don’t remember) at a five star-hotel in Kalimati. There, I met Charan Parsai for the first time and a lady whose name I cannot recall. I don’t remember the subject we four deliberated upon. But this was my first interaction with civil society leaders. Devendra Raj Pandey got me associated with Nepal South Asia Center in March 2002 and I worked with him until I was made national coordinator for the Ceasefire Code of Conduct in June 2006.

However, I was in constant touch with Daman Nath Dhungana through the 22-member Civil Monitoring Committee, formed to monitor the ceasefire that the Maoists had declared for Dashain in 2005, as both of us were its members. We remained associated through several organizations like Parliamentary Foundation, Friends for Peace and Nepal Transition to Peace Institute Nepal/Nepal Shanti Pratishthan, which was established in 2014.

During this period, we used to meet at least thrice a week and share our views over phone every evening till recently. After developing a theme to write on, I used to talk about it and after publication of the article, get his comments, which were always objective. He was actually my friend, philosopher and guide. Even when he was almost bedridden after his return from Delhi, where he had been for medical treatment, I used to meet him on alternate days. Though unable to speak fluently as before, he used to infer that I must be busy with my writing. Referring to our cordial relationship, I used to tell him that it must have been fixed in our previous lives, though neither of us believed in past lives. Even today I do not know why he was so cordial and helpful to me as we were far apart geographically: I am from Madhes and he was from Kathmandu.

There were some salient traits of his personality, which I want to share with the reader. First, he was a full-time politician, though not active but always participatory. He never declined an invite for a meeting, whether called by a party or a group, and he was a true politicoholic. Second, he was a democrat by conviction and practice, and never compromised with his ideals for any gains. It was he who raised, for the first time, the issue of electing a Constituent Assembly (CA) for framing a people’s constitution, in Nepal. So, the CA was his brain-child, though India’s first PM, Jawaharlal Nehru, had included the agenda in the ‘Delhi Compromise’ signed in Delhi in Feb 1951. The agenda remained on paper until the Maoists included it in the 12-point understanding reached with the Seven-Party alliance in Nov 2005.

Third, he was a politician with a difference as he neither sought any favour for himself nor obliged anyone for profit. Perhaps, this was the reason why he got respect from others but not their support, which is required the most in today’s electoral politics and that was also the reason why his institutions always lacked funds to operate smoothly. Fourth, he was always ready to address any meetings and deliver speeches but was quite lazy when it came to writing, which deprived us of his knowledge and wide experience for our guidance.

Fifth, he was a witty orator and knew how to twist and turn the subject matter he took up for deliberations. Sixth, he was a treasure of knowledge acquired by reading books, which he used to share with us in our meetings. Seventh, he was very hospitable and used to receive visitors well before the scheduled time. Eighth, I always found him very accommodating. During the launch of my books, he used to busy himself with the management aspect of the events. Lastly, he was always worried about the low level of politics and the future of Nepal. He wanted to take the lead in improving the situation but found himself handicapped by not having any organization to support him.

He wanted the Parliamentary Foundation, the organization he had founded, to function smoothly to provide organizational support for streamlining the parliamentary system and also wished to get the initiatives of NTTPI for documenting the peace process. Sadly, his wishes remained unfulfilled.

Fulfilling his wishes through joint efforts would be our tribute to the departed soul. In his death, I have lost one of my great well-wishers, whom I will be missing all my life as the void resulting from his absence will never be filled up.

Migration has long been a defining feature of Nepal’s socio-economic landscape, with rural populations moving to cities in search of better opportunities. Urban areas offering better infrastructure, education, healthcare, and other amenities, have always attracted individuals from villages. However, migration trends in recent years indicate a growing number of people being compelled to leave their homes due to increasingly challenging circumstances, primarily driven by natural disasters. The devastating impacts of climate change, including frequent floods and landslides, are forcing rural families to seek refuge elsewhere.

Nepal’s agriculture sector employs about 60 percent of the population, yet most farmers struggle with poverty, unable to earn enough to sustain a decent standard of living. Their dependence on subsistence farming makes them vulnerable to even minor disruptions. Agriculture in Nepal heavily relies on weather patterns, which can either boost or destroy harvests. While this year’s timely monsoon allowed farmers to sow paddy in time, inconsistent weather patterns over the years have left them uncertain about future harvests. Although Nepal ranks 128th in global carbon emissions, it is alarmingly vulnerable to the effects of climate change, placing fourth in global rankings of climate risk. This disproportionality has placed the livelihoods of millions of farmers at risk, as erratic weather patterns disrupt agricultural yields.

Floods and landslides, exacerbated by climate change, inflict significant damage on Nepal’s economy and agricultural sector every year. In October 2024, heavy rains caused catastrophic floods, with two days of rainfall exceeding annual averages. This deluge submerged paddy fields across the country, resulting in losses exceeding Rs 6bn in agricultural commodities. Landslides compounded the devastation, blocking roads and leaving perishable goods to rot. Farmers now face uncertainty about whether the affected fields will be cultivable in the future. The October floods, like many other disasters, have pushed countless families closer to displacement.

In August 2024, a flash flood triggered by the rupture of the Chomuche glacier devastated the village of Thame in Solukhumbu district. All 55 households were affected, with homes, livestock, and agricultural land swept away. The villagers were forced to relocate, illustrating the stark challenges posed by Nepal’s 21 “potentially dangerous” glaciers. A single glacial outburst can trigger widespread floods and landslides, destroying crops, washing away nutrient-rich topsoil, and compromising irrigation. As glacial melts accelerate, the loss of fertile soil—a critical resource for agriculture—leaves farmers unable to sustain their livelihoods, forcing them to abandon farming altogether and seek alternative occupations.

The Tarai region, often referred to as Nepal’s agricultural basket, is particularly affected by climate change. This fertile plain produces over a third of Nepal’s food, but prolonged droughts and erratic monsoons are reducing its productivity. Over 80 percent of the region’s rainfall occurs during the monsoon season, but recent years have seen more intense rains and extended dry spells. According to a 2019 study published in the Global Scientific Journal, winter rainfall in districts like Chitwan, Rautahat, and Kailali has decreased by 51 percent. This has forced communities to drill deeper for water, further depleting the water table. Prolonged droughts have also intensified social conflicts over natural resources, as reported by the Overseas Development Institute in 2017.

The escalating frequency of natural disasters has led to a sharp increase in internal displacement. According to the Global Report on Internal Displacement (2021), 48,000 people were displaced in Nepal between June and September 2020. By 2023, this number had more than doubled to 110,000. Most displaced individuals are farmers and daily wage laborers who are disproportionately affected by climate-induced disasters. Unlike other professions, farming is acutely sensitive to environmental changes, leaving those dependent on it highly vulnerable. Limited financial resources and the high costs of rehabilitation often make it impossible for displaced farmers to return to their previous livelihoods.

Globally, climate change has displaced millions, with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) reporting 21.5m climate-related displacements annually since 2010. In 2022 alone, climate disasters displaced 36.2m people, a number projected to double by 2050 according to the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC). The ongoing crisis in Syria serves as a cautionary tale. Once a fertile agricultural hub, Syria now faces severe droughts and resource depletion. Farmers there must now drill over 700 meters to find water, compared to just 60–70 meters previously. This environmental degradation displaced over 2m farmers by 2013 and continues to fuel conflicts, creating conditions where refugees are reluctant to return even if the war ends.

In Nepal, the drying of water resources has reached alarming levels. Studies conducted by RWSSP-WN (2004–2014) revealed that 50% of water sources in Tanahun district dried up during this period. Similarly, a 2017 study in Melamchi reported a 30 percent decline in local spring water volume over the previous decade. This trend is observed nationwide, raising concerns about water availability for both drinking and irrigation. In 2024, residents of Sarlahi district walked for 23 days to Kathmandu to protest the severe water crisis. Their plight underscores the growing urgency of addressing water scarcity before it becomes unmanageable.

Nepal’s farmers are already grappling with climate-induced challenges such as floods, landslides, and droughts, but the situation is likely to worsen with the emergence of new threats like pest outbreaks and crop diseases. Rising global temperatures alter growing conditions, potentially leading to widespread crop failures in regions that were once highly productive. With their economic resilience already stretched thin, Nepali farmers are ill-equipped to adapt to these mounting challenges. Consequently, many will be forced to abandon their homes and livelihoods, seeking work in urban areas or abroad.

The effects of climate change are not just environmental—they have profound social and economic implications. As Nepal faces increasing displacement, resource conflicts, and food insecurity, urgent action is needed to mitigate the impact of climate change. Comprehensive policies that address both immediate and long-term needs are essential to protect vulnerable communities. Strengthening agricultural infrastructure, diversifying livelihoods, and improving disaster preparedness can help build resilience. Without these measures, the cycle of displacement and economic hardship will only deepen, threatening the stability and sustainability of Nepal’s rural communities.