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I have to confess that I wasn’t a fan of ‘The Hunger Games’ series by Suzzane Collins when it first came out in 2008. I read it because everyone was reading and talking about it. But since I wasn’t interested in dystopian settings, I didn’t get as hooked as perhaps the rest of the world. 

I read the second part ‘Catching Fire’ as I wanted to know what would happen to Katniss Everdeen, the protagonist, after she won the games but by the third book ‘Mockingjay’, I had lost all interest.

To be honest, I didn’t read ‘The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes’ that came out in 2020 so even I was surprised when I picked up ‘Sunrise on the Reaping’ that came out early this year. It was part the hype surrounding the book and part this acceptance of dystopian novels post Covid-19 which had made the impossible seem possible. 

For those of you who don’t know what the Hunger Games is about (and I’m pretty sure there aren’t very many), it’s a dystopian novel about this place where the Capitol controls all the other districts in the area. Many years ago, frustrated with the Capitol’s oppressive regime, the 12 districts rose against it. There was a civil war in which the districts lost. Since then, as a form of punishment, the Capitol takes two ‘tributes’, a boy and a girl, from each district to participate in what they call the hunger games. Out of 24 participants, only one remains in the end. The blood bath that ensues in the artificially constructed arena where everything is under the control of the game makers is shown on TV. 

Sunrise on the Reaping follows Haymitch Abernathy, who features heavily in the original Hunger Games trilogy as Katniss and Peeta’s mentor. As the only surviving victor from District 12, he is tasked with mentoring the tributes from his district but he is perpetually drunk and lost in his own world. However, his sharp mind and cunning skills prove to be crucial in ensuring the tribute’s survival in the arena. Though you will initially dislike him in the Hunger Games, he is a character who will slowly grow on you. Sunrise on the Reaping gives his backstory and you get to find out why Haymitch is the way he is. You will come to empathize with him.

But you can read the book as a standalone book or even if you have forgotten much of what happens in the Hunger Games trilogy. In district 12, on the day of the 50th annual Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy tries not to think too hard about his chances as that year twice as many tributes are being taken. He just wants to make it through the day and be with Lenore Dove, the girl he loves and wants to spend the rest of his life with. He truly believes he will beat the odds. But Haymitch’s name gets called in the reaping and he finds himself torn apart from his family—his mother and younger brother, and his love. He is transported to the Capitol with three other district 12 tributes—a young girl he considers his sister, an oddsmaker, and the girl Lenore dislikes the most. 

Even before the games begin, the people at the Capital and especially President Snow take an instant dislike to him. Haymitch soon realizes that he has been set up to fail from the start and that they are going to do everything to take him out as early and as brutally as possible once he enters the arena. But something in him wants to fight, and to show the Capitol people that the tributes aren’t just mere pawns.

I breezed through the book as I simply couldn’t put it down. It’s fast paced and the characters are beautifully developed. You even come to care about a character that appears for a really short time and has perhaps been implanted by the Capitol to spy on Haymitch. We learn a lot about Haymitch in the third part of the series ‘Mockingjay’ and those who haven’t read Sunrise on the Reaping might wonder what new this book has to offer. But there are so many layers to his story and how he won the games that you will be missing out if you don’t read this gem of a novel that keeps you on the edge of your seat all throughout. 

If you haven’t read the series then this book could actually even be a great introduction to it. I’m tempted to read the Hunger Games again after having read Sunrise on the Reaping because I’ve forgotten much of what’s in it and also because I feel I’ll look at the characters and the story from a fresh perspective. I hadn’t enjoyed them very much when I first read it but now I’ve a feeling that I will as I’m quite invested in the plot and care deeply about the district tributes whoever they might be. President Snow might just be my most hated person at the moment. What I mean by that is, in my head, I seem to be largely living in the world the author has built.

The book also deals with themes like political propaganda and the gap between the haves and the have-nots, making it a thought-provoking read as well. I’ve given it a five out of five stars and can’t stop thinking about it. It’s every bit as wonderful as the internet (especially all the BookTubers) is making it out to be. 

Dystopia

Sunrise on the Reaping

Suzanne Collins

Publisher: Scholastic Press

Published: 2025

Pages: 382, Hardcover

Price: Rs 1918

Land is more than a physical resource—it represents the foundation of culture, livelihoods and dignity in Nepal. However, centuries of discriminatory policies have systematically stripped communities like the Tharu, Limbu, and Chepang of their ancestral lands, consequently deepening poverty, exacerbating ethnic tensions, and causing extensive environmental harm.

The 2015 Constitution offers hope: Article 37 ensures every citizen’s ‘right to appropriate housing’ and protection from unlawful evictions, while Article 51(e) calls for scientific land reforms to eliminate ‘dual ownership’, curb ‘absentee land ownership’, and manage land for productivity, ecological balance, and farmers’ access to resources. Yet the crisis remains staggering—the Land Issue Resolving Commission reports roughly 89,144 landless Dalit families, 168,888 other landless families, and 875,164 unmanaged settler families, potentially affecting 1.5m families or 6m people. The High-Level Land Reform Commission (2065) estimates 5.5m landless people, with women owning merely 16 percent of land and Dalits controlling only one percent of agricultural land.

A controversial law

Despite these constitutional mandates, Nepal’s government has tabled a Bill to Amend Some Nepal Acts Related to Land, closely mirroring a previously withdrawn ordinance. Although claiming to address longstanding governance issues, it has generated intense controversy due to concerns that it may facilitate elite capture, enable exploitation by land brokers, benefit real estate businesses, and cause significant environmental damage—including deforestation in the Chure region and misuse of forests, public lands and national parks.

The High-Level Land Reform Commissions, established at various periods in Nepal’s history, have consistently warned against ‘cosmetic’ reforms that fail to tackle semi-feudal structures. Instead, they advocate comprehensive changes to prioritize marginalized groups and protect ecosystems. Through historical institutionalism and political ecology frameworks, this analysis explores the urgent need for equitable reforms aligned with constitutional mandates and Supreme Court rulings.

Historical roots of land injustice

Nepal’s land problems originated centuries ago with policies systematically favoring high-caste elites over indigenous groups, dismantling communal systems that sustained communities. Cox (1990) demonstrates how the 1768 Gorkha conquest centralized land control and disrupted the Limbu’s ‘Kipat’ system—a communal tenure where land was collectively owned and could not be sold, preserving cultural identity and economic stability.

Historical institutionalism reveals how these policies are permanently locked in inequalities. The 1886 ‘male tenure’ policy allowed cultivators, predominantly Brahmans, to claim ‘Kipat’ lands through ‘subinfeudation’—dividing and transferring rights—turning indigenous Limbus into tenants on their ancestral territory. The 1964 ‘Land Reform Act’, while aimed at redistribution, was undermined by loopholes allowing elites to retain control, fueling ethnic tensions. The 1968 ‘Kipat abolition’ completely stripped groups like the Limbu and Chepang of their foundations.

This pattern repeated throughout Nepal. The Chepang’s ‘Kipat’ lands, granted in 1848, became ‘Raikar’—state-owned, taxable land—by 1854, pushing communities into poverty. In Dang valley, the Tharu’s Barghar system, a sophisticated communal model for equitable land use, collapsed after 1950s malaria eradication allowed Hindu settlers to seize prime lands, displacing 3,000 Tharus by 1980. The Limbu’s ‘Satya Hangama’ movement, seeking ‘Kipat’ restoration, was crushed by 1946, reflecting ‘legal pluralism’—the clash between customary and state laws.

According to the HLLRC (2065) report, today’s reality starkly reflects these injustices: 47 percent of small farmers control merely 15 percent of land, while three percent of large farmers hold 17 percent, and 20 percent of fertile land lies unused due to speculative holding by bureaucrats and brokers. Semi-feudal practices persist—dual ownership, absenteeism, and bonded labor systems like Haliya, Kamaiya, Haruwa, Charuwa, Kamalari and Gothala encompass approximately one million agricultural laborers. Women, despite working 18 hours daily, hold only 16 percent of land ownership. Indigenous peoples, one-third of the population, face systematic encroachment. Around 1.02m families (5.5m people) remain landless, forcing migration to India and abroad.

Global lessons

Nepal’s challenges mirror global land inequities. Westwood (1984) shows how the US South’s failed “land redistribution’—General Sherman’s 1865 promise of ‘forty acres and a mule’ to freed slaves—was reversed by political forces restoring elite control. Gates (1976) demonstrates how the 1862 ‘Homestead Act’ favored speculators over genuine settlers while displacing Native Americans. In Muscovy, ‘absentee land management’ triggered ‘peasant revolts’ (Melton, 1978).

Spence (1985) defines ‘landlessness’ as systematic exclusion creating ‘dead capital’—land unusable for loans or investment due to insecure tenure. Political ecology frameworks highlight how power imbalances enable elite capture, echoing Nepal’s current Bill concerns. Smith (2018) notes ‘global land use’ tensions harm marginalized groups, while Hrabovszky (1987) warns ‘land use pressure’ risks deforestation.

A fundamental right

Land represents a fundamental human right central to dignity and survival. Enemark et al. (2014) connect ‘land administration’—managing ownership, value, and use—to Universal Declaration of Human Rights' Article 17 (property) and Article 25 (living standards). ‘Tenure security’ aligns with Article 37 of Nepal’s Constitution. The ‘Social Tenure Domain Model’ recognizes a ‘continuum of land rights’, protecting informal tenure, though facing elite capture risks.

Nepal’s crisis produces profound impacts. Economically, losing ‘Kipat’ and Barghar lands drives poverty and migration through ‘dead capital’. Culturally, these losses sever indigenous traditions. Politically, suppressed movements like ‘Satya Hangama’ mirror global exclusion patterns. Environmentally, ‘land use pressure’ creates risks like Chure deforestation. Socially, bonded labor and inequalities persist with women and Dalits systematically marginalized.

Beyond cosmetic changes

The proposed bill must adopt the HLLRC’s structural reforms rather than perpetuating elite capture. Genuine transformation requires ending ‘dual ownership’ and ‘absentee land ownership’, redistributing land to tillers, and prioritizing Dalits, women and indigenous groups. Land classification must scientifically separate agricultural and non-agricultural uses. Agricultural land should be classified by production zones—grain, fruit, vegetable, cash crops, medicinal herbs, grazing, tea, coffee, cardamong, sugarcane, jute and special zones. Non-agricultural land needs residential, industrial and environmental protection designations. Special measures for fragile ecological zones like Chure and Mahabharat are essential.

Clear policies on priority rights and compensation are critical. As the HLLRC states, “Competition essential for capitalist development must be among equals.” Reforms must promote cooperatives, overhaul corrupt administration, and implement collaborative governance with monitoring to prevent land grabs while ensuring constitutional compliance.

A vision for lasting justice

Nepal’s 1.5m landless families face a pivotal moment. The proposed Bill must move beyond ‘cosmetic’ reforms by implementing the HLLRC’s blueprint to dismantle semi-feudal systems, restore ‘customary tenure’ like Barghar and Kipat systems, and protect ecosystems like Chure and Mahabharat. By aligning with constitutional mandates and Supreme Court rulings, Nepal can ensure equitable land access, empower marginalized groups, and boost agricultural productivity through cooperatives and modern methods.

Learning from global failures and local traditions, Nepal can establish a new standard for land justice, ensuring no community remains landless or voiceless. The choice is clear: continue cosmetic fixes preserving centuries of injustice, or embrace transformative reforms that Nepal’s Constitution demands and marginalized communities deserve.

Kathmandu has long served as Nepal’s political, economic, and cultural epicenter, anchoring the nation’s governance and commerce. However, the capital faces mounting challenges due to rapid urbanization, severe congestion, environmental degradation, and significant natural disaster risks, particularly earthquakes. These pressures have fueled discussions about the feasibility of establishing a new or expanded National Capital Region (NCR) to alleviate the strain on Kathmandu and promote balanced national development. Among the potential candidates, Chitwan District, located in Bagmati Province, emerges as a compelling choice due to its strategic location, robust infrastructure, and growing economic vitality. 

Why Chitwan?

Chitwan district stands out as a prime candidate for hosting a National Capital Region due to its unique combination of geographic, economic, and infrastructural advantages. The district’s central position in Nepal positions it as a critical link between the country’s eastern and western regions, facilitating efficient logistics and connectivity. Major highways, including the East-West Highway and Prithvi Highway, traverse Chitwan, seamlessly connecting it to key cities across Nepal. This robust road network supports the movement of goods, services, and people, making Chitwan a natural hub for commerce and administration. Additionally, Bharatpur Airport, which currently operates flights to Kathmandu and Pokhara, holds significant potential for expansion. With targeted investments, the airport could accommodate regional and even international air traffic, further enhancing Chitwan’s accessibility and economic reach.

Economically, Chitwan is a powerhouse within Nepal. Bharatpur, the district’s largest city, ranks as the country’s fourth-largest urban center and is experiencing rapid growth in population and infrastructure. The city is home to a diverse array of industries, including agriculture, trade, and education, with prominent institutions such as agricultural research centers and medical colleges driving economic activity. By positioning Bharatpur as a commercial and administrative hub, Nepal could diversify its urban landscape, reducing the overwhelming dependence on Kathmandu. This shift would not only alleviate congestion in the capital but also stimulate economic growth in Chitwan, creating new opportunities for employment and investment.

Beyond its logistical and economic strengths, Chitwan offers a more resilient environment for urban development compared to Kathmandu. Unlike the capital, which sits in a seismically vulnerable valley, Chitwan rests on relatively stable land, reducing the risks posed by earthquakes. The district also provides ample space for planned urban expansion, allowing for the development of modern infrastructure tailored to the needs of a growing population. While certain areas of Chitwan face flood risks, these challenges can be addressed through careful urban planning and investment in flood mitigation measures. By leveraging its geographic and environmental advantages, Chitwan could serve as a sustainable foundation for a new national capital region.

Expanding the national capital region: Neighboring territories

To maximize the sustainability and impact of a National Capital Region centered in Chitwan, incorporating neighboring districts into the plan is essential. This expansion would foster greater economic and administrative coordination, creating a regional framework that balances growth across multiple areas. Nawalpur, also known as Nawalparasi East, lies to the west of the Narayani River and offers significant industrial potential. Its strategic location makes it a vital link between Chitwan and Lumbini Province, facilitating trade and logistics across southern Nepal. Nawalpur’s flat terrain and access to resources position it as an ideal location for developing major industrial zones and business hubs, which could complement Chitwan’s economic activities and drive regional prosperity.

Makwanpur district, located to the north of Chitwan, is another strong candidate for inclusion in the NCR. Hetauda, the capital of Bagmati Province, is a well-established industrial and trade center with a strategic position at the crossroads of Chitwan, Kathmandu, and eastern Nepal. Expanding Hetauda’s infrastructure could support industrial growth and urban development, creating a secondary hub within the NCR that complements Bharatpur’s administrative and commercial functions. Hetauda’s existing industrial base, coupled with its proximity to major highways, makes it a natural fit for the regional framework, enabling seamless coordination across the NCR.

Eastern Tanahun and western Bara also present compelling opportunities for inclusion. Tanahun, located to the northwest of Chitwan, is home to emerging urban centers that could contribute to the NCR’s growth. Its proximity to Chitwan ensures easy integration into the regional network, allowing for coordinated development of infrastructure and services. Bara, to the south, is a key industrial hub, particularly in the area of Simara, which hosts significant industrial activity and an airport. This airport could serve as a secondary transit hub for the NCR, supporting Bharatpur Airport and enhancing the region’s connectivity. By incorporating these districts, the NCR would create a robust network of urban and industrial centers, fostering economic synergy and balanced development across central Nepal.

Challenges and considerations

While the prospect of establishing a National Capital Region in Chitwan and its surrounding districts holds immense promise, several challenges must be addressed to ensure its success. Political and administrative resistance poses a significant hurdle, as relocating or expanding the capital region would require broad consensus among stakeholders. Local interests, regional power dynamics, and bureaucratic inertia could complicate the decision-making process, necessitating careful long-term planning and transparent communication to build support. Engaging local communities and addressing their concerns will be critical to overcoming resistance and ensuring the project’s viability.

Environmental sustainability is another key consideration. Chitwan is home to the renowned Chitwan National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a critical ecological asset. Urban expansion in the region must be carefully managed to avoid disrupting the park’s delicate ecosystem and biodiversity. Sustainable urban planning practices, such as green infrastructure and eco-friendly construction, will be essential to preserving Chitwan’s natural resources while accommodating growth. Additionally, flood risks in certain areas of the district must be mitigated through advanced engineering solutions, such as improved drainage systems and river management strategies, to ensure the safety and resilience of new developments.

The development of a National Capital Region will also require substantial financial investment in infrastructure. Expanding highways, upgrading Bharatpur Airport, and developing utilities such as water, electricity, and telecommunications will demand significant resources and coordination between government agencies, private investors, and international partners. Securing funding for these projects while maintaining fiscal responsibility will be a complex but necessary task. Public-private partnerships and international development assistance could play a pivotal role in financing the NCR’s infrastructure, ensuring that the region is equipped to support its growing population and economic activity.

Designating Chitwan District as the core of a new National Capital Region, with the inclusion of neighboring districts such as Nawalpur, Makwanpur, Tanahun, and Bara, offers a transformative opportunity for Nepal. This strategic move would decentralize governance, reduce the strain on Kathmandu, and promote balanced economic development across the country. By leveraging Chitwan’s central location, robust infrastructure, and economic potential, Nepal could create a modern, resilient, and sustainable administrative hub. The inclusion of neighboring districts would enhance the NCR’s economic and logistical capabilities, fostering regional synergy and long-term growth.

However, realizing this vision will require overcoming significant challenges, including political resistance, environmental concerns, and the need for substantial infrastructure investment. Through strategic planning, stakeholder engagement, and a commitment to sustainability, these obstacles can be addressed effectively. A well-executed National Capital Region centered in Chitwan could not only alleviate Kathmandu’s congestion but also establish a dynamic new center for governance, commerce, and innovation. This bold initiative has the potential to reshape Nepal’s urban landscape, driving economic progress and improving the quality of life for its citizens for generations to come.

Every year, thousands of Nepali women traverse borders to seek jobs as the domestic and care workers in Gulf countries. Their hope to lift families from poverty is met with peril, abandonment, and, most heartbreakingly, death. While Nepal’s remittance-driven migration economy flourishes on—constituting over a quarter of national GDP—the women fueling this economy are systematically erased during life and death.

According to Foreign Employment Board, between 2008 and 2024, around 400 Nepali female migrant workers died overseas. And a total compensation payouts during this period was Rs 168m.

Take the case of Hira Bhujel, once a proud Kuwait returnee. Her first migration was legal and empowering; she bought land, built a house, and placed her family above poverty. When a government ban stopped her second migration to work as domestic labor, Bhujel turned to an irregular route. She died of ‘illness’ within months. She was left by her employer, denied medical care, and left by the state because her migration had been ‘illegal’. Her body came back in a coffin. No one helped—not the state, not the anti-trafficking networks, nor even the migration agencies built on the framework of ‘safe migration’.

Her mother says, “Because she worked abroad without a permit, the government turned its back on us. No compensation, no clear answers.” “Women like my daughter are treated as disposable labour. She was sent away without protection, forgotten when they fall ill or die.”

Bhujel’s is a far too familiar story. Nepali authorities have prohibited all women’s migration for domestic work since 2017. Although relaxed partly in 2020, the policy remains founded on restriction and gendered protectionism. In spite of such prohibitions, however, women keep migrating, often through illegal channels, by sheer necessity. But many never return.

Restrictions on women’s migration, purportedly in their interests, are in fact enhancing their vulnerability. They close off formal routes to them, push them into dangerous informal ones, and exclude them from government support when they are in need or dead, say the experts. “Even destination country embassy staff are cripplingly under-resourced, with just seven people dealing with tens of thousands of migrant cases,” experts say. “Bureaucratic hurdles prevent access to welfare budgets, and when corpses need to be repatriated, the families and local communities are often left to pay the bill.”

Kani Sherpa died in 1998 in Kuwait due to alleged abuse by her employers. This sparked public outcry and led to the ban on Nepali women working in the Gulf. The ban, however, was not effective in preventing women from seeking work in the Gulf. Instead, it pushed many to seek illegal channels, leading to further exploitation. 

The failure is structural: no legal acknowledgment, no psychosocial assistance, inadequate diplomacy, and a policy regime criminalizing women’s survival struggles. Migration bans have created a trend of invisibility and punishment, where it is simpler to overlook women’s deaths than to go out of one’s way to save their lives.

As per the report ‘Invisible in life and death: The aftermath of Nepali female migrant domestic workers’ death’ released by Brunel University of London and Women’s Rehabilitation Centre (WOREC), besides financial problems, relatives of the deceased female migrant workers experience critical mental health-related problems. These comprise, but are not limited to, depression, trauma, anxiety, and social isolation. Older parents and children are specifically affected but do not receive any formal psychosocial intervention.

Sabina Oli, longing to remit money home to her sick husband and children, travelled to Kuwait through India with Rs 50,000 borrowed from relatives. She rang home, crying, telling of brutality and cruelty at the hands of her recruiter. And then the calls stopped. Oli died in her sleep due to extreme heat as per her employer. Her family had to raise funds to bring her body back home. No wages, no compensation, no government support followed. Worse, the community ostracized the family for their undocumented migration and withdrew all support.

Similar to Oli, poverty pushed Sanjita Dangi to Saudi Arabia, where she died of alleged suicide. Her body was bruised and scarred, suggesting violence. And yet, no inquiry ensued. Her already indebted husband was socially boycotted. Neighbors who had been standing by the family turned their backs. “My wife would tell me that hard times are only temporary and good days will come. But when I heard about her death, I was devastated,” her husband says.

Nanimaya Nepali too passed away alone in Kuwait. Having endured torture and isolation, she was finally preparing to return home. She was shown her burial through video call—no death certificate, no paperwork, not even a grave marker. The employer claimed that she had tested positive for Covid-19 but there was no official medical report. Her death shattered her family and drove her children into the very same cycle of migration that had taken her life. “We borrowed money hoping to have a better life, and when she died, loans were still here, even the house was locked by the moneylender,” her sister says.

These women are not isolated cases. There are more than 60,000 Nepali women working in the Gulf as domestic workers, estimated in the report, with 48,000 of them working in Kuwait alone. They are largely undocumented, absent from official data, unshielded by bilateral labour agreements, and beneath the radar in public discourse. When they die, their bodies do not return. Their deaths are unrecorded, and their families mourn in secret.

Even when they travel legally, tragedy befalls. Megha Sunar, a legally migrant worker in Oman, had to escape to Kuwait as her employer died and the company said it can’t provide salary anymore. She died in her sleep. There were no further explanations. And because she traveled across borders illegally, the government refused to help with repatriation. Her body came back only when family members and neighbors pooled money. Her husband, who stayed behind to raise two sons, now lives in a day-to-day economic and emotional struggle.

Some, like Manisha Bhandari, faced violence not from employers, but from her husband. He was working abroad in Malaysia. Though their relationship was not healthy, she too migrated to Malaysia for a data entry job. Though she and her husband lived in different cities, they occasionally met, but their relationship was beyond repair. Ten months later, he invited her into his room and murdered her. Her decomposed body was found wrapped in plastic. Her parents, now raising her daughter, received only an insurance payout. There was no mental health support, no institutional care.

Namita Dangol, burdened by her family debt and hopes for her daughter’s future, defied her family’s instructions and emigrated to Cyprus. She sent remittances and stayed in touch initially, but subsequently showed signs of distress, which she concealed from everyone but herself. When she died, legally certified as a suicide, her family was denied closure. Her coffin was sealed, and her death hangs on a cloud of questions. Following her death, a vicious court struggle broke out over the compensation funds. Her husband seized all the power, marrying again within a year and pushing Dangol’s family and daughter aside.

Radha Giri left as a domestic servant to Kuwait, put by an area agent with the assurance of insurance and clearances. A report arrived after just three months that she had passed away. Her battered neck indicated probable strangulation but no inquiry or clarification followed later. The family was given a paltry Rs 50,000 for burial costs by the agent, who was not held responsible. Giri’s husband struggles to cope with grief, turning to daily labor and sometimes alcohol, while their children live apart under relatives’ care. The family received no legal advice, counselling, or government help.

The story of Amrita Sarki illustrates the risks of clandestine migration. Having proceeded to Kuwait without a labor certificate, she worked in domestic service and then ran a small beauty parlour. Two years later, a fellow worker reported her dead. While the authorities ruled her death as a suicide, her family suspect it was a case of murder. With no official help on offer because she was undocumented, her body took months to be brought home through community efforts. Sarki’s death devastated her family’s financial and social standing, bringing stigma and isolation.

Even sanctioned legal migration proved no guarantee of safety for Asmita Kunwar, a victim of sexual harassment and physical abuse at the hands of Kuwait bosses. When she was found dead by hanging, officially an ‘illegal migrant’ since a job change, neither government departments nor embassies helped. Her family had to wait months and pay huge sums to repatriate her body with no benefits or compensation.

A friend recounts the horrible experience of Shreya Nepali, a single mother, who was pestered with constant abuse and sexual harassment. They both were first taken to Saudi Arabia and then to Kuwait to work as domestic workers where their passports were immediately confiscated. Her life there was a nightmare, says her friend. She endured relentless work during the day and suffered sexual abuse from her employer at night. Refusal brought starvation, sometimes lasting days.

“I did not see her for several days. When I inquired, the employer told me she had taken her own life. I was shocked. I strongly believe she was killed for resisting abuse,” her friend says. Her mother too migrated to India and never returned.The family was left in debt and desperation, without assistance or justice as stigma and silence ostracized them from society.

Susmita Thapa, 22, had left Nepal legally from Kathmandu airport to work in Jordan. She was reserved and reliable and aspired to lift her family out of poverty. The initial signs had been encouraging with remittances back home from her domestic work. But life took a dramatic turn for her family in 2018 when they heard about Thapa’s death. The official report was that of suicide, but Sanu Thapa, her mother, simply couldn’t accept it. The body arrived with company representatives and a postmortem report but without a follow-up investigation. Overwhelmed and ill-equipped, the family cremated Thapa’s body without explanation.

The report says that the death of migrant women workers often results in economic devastation due to unrepaid migration loans and lost income. As a result, different members of the family are forced to sell their houses, property and assets and migrate to other locations. The majority of the families fall into debt cycles with exorbitant interest rates, with female-headed households suffering the most. The families face social stigma and blame from their society for having pushed their women through irregular channels while marginalized castes face further exclusion, and the children are likely to be shunned at school.

The specialists suggest eliminating the ban on internal labor migration and having open legal migration routes. “Unconditionally, recognize, register and protect all undocumented migrants in embassies,” they say.

Sushil Acharya, director of the Foreign Employment Board Secretariat, stated that budget constraints have halted the functioning of valuable programs. He stated that the budget received from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is utilized primarily in running the repatriation of deceased migrant workers and in providing compensation, but the Ministry of Finance has not made additional budget available.

Acharya also committed to accepting the suggestions that flowed through the discussion in a positive manner and proceeded towards their implementation. “Political will is the only way the ban on female migrant workers will be lifted,” he says. “Trade unions also want the ban to be lifted, but they need to pressure their political leaders to act.”

It is clear to everyone, except perhaps for some policymakers who continue to chant the mantra of ‘protecting women’ by restricting their mobility, migration bans on domestic work have not protected women at all. Instead, they have pushed women into using irregular and unsafe routes, easy targets to exploitation. They are thus compelled to either be at the mercy of agents who control their destiny, be voiceless when faced with abuse, or their untimely deaths are dismissed as natural and not subjected to inquiry.

Names of the victims in this story are changed for privacy