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My journey with sharbat began on a bright day in a television studio. During an interview on Nepal Television, the discussion touched many topics, but my heart kept returning to one subject—our humble, refreshing, and deeply traditional drink: sharbat. It was then I realized this drink is more than a thirst-quencher. It’s a symbol of our identity and a reflection of our heritage. 

The word ‘sharbat’ comes from the Arabic word sharba, meaning ‘a sip’ or ‘something to drink.’ Its roots trace back to ancient Persia and the Arab world, where it was more than a cool refreshment. It was believed to have healing powers. Scholars and traditional healers used ingredients like rose, lemon, cardamom, and fennel to prepare these sweet herbal drinks.

As it traveled across the Islamic world—from Baghdad to Cairo, and later into the Ottoman Empire and Mughal India—sharbat was refined and reinvented. In India, Emperor Babur famously had ice brought from the mountains of Kabul just to enjoy sharbat in the summer heat. Regional ingredients like bael fruit and raw mango gave rise to new variations like aam panna.

Sharbat eventually made its way into Nepali kitchens and local culture. Here, it evolved again—crafted from ingredients found in our own soil, like khudo (traditional sugarcane molasses) and native lemons such as kagati and sun kagati. Today, sharbat is part of many Nepali households, but it deserves a more honored place in our national identity.

Nepal is a land rich in natural beauty, biodiversity, and culture. But some of our simplest traditions remain underappreciated. Sharbat is one of them. In a world full of imported soft drinks that are unhealthy, expensive, and harmful to local economies, sharbat offers a refreshing and sustainable alternative.

It’s healthy, easy to make, and full of local flavors. It energizes and cools the body, thanks to its natural ingredients. The molasses (khudo) provides organic sweetness, while the fresh lemon juice adds a zesty boost of vitamin C—good for digestion and immunity.

And sharbat is versatile. You can serve it chilled at a roadside tea shop, mix it into a cocktail at a luxury hotel, or enjoy it with momo during family gatherings. It belongs everywhere.

Here is a basic recipe that anyone can make at home, in restaurants, or at events:

Ingredients:

• 1 liter of natural or spring water
• 2–3 tablespoons of khudo (sugarcane molasses)
• Juice of 3–4 kagati or sun kagati lemons
• Optional: A few crushed mint leaves or a dash of rose syrup

Instructions:

• Mix water and khudo until fully dissolved.
• Add freshly squeezed lemon juice.
• (Optional) Add mint or rose syrup for extra flavor.
• Chill in the fridge or serve over ice.

This is more than just a recipe—it’s a taste of Nepal’s soil and spirit.

On that day at Nepal Television, I found myself passionately speaking about why sharbat should be served in every embassy, hotel, and street corner in the country. Imagine welcoming foreign guests at international conferences with a glass of chilled sharbat. Picture tourists arriving at resorts in Chitwan or trekking lodges in the Himalayas, greeted with this simple, delightful drink. What better way to share a piece of our culture?

With rising health concerns around sugary sodas and energy drinks, Nepali sharbat stands out as a natural and nutritious alternative. It hydrates, refreshes, and nourishes. It’s free from chemicals and full of the natural goodness of local lemons and molasses.

Sharbat can be enjoyed any time of day. It doesn’t spike blood sugar the way sodas do. And because it uses ingredients found across Nepal, it supports a healthy lifestyle while also supporting local farmers.

Promoting sharbat means investing in Nepal’s local economy. If more people start using khudo, it increases demand for locally grown sugarcane. If restaurants and hotels serve lemon-based sharbat, it helps citrus farmers. If street vendors sell sharbat, they gain income while sharing local flavors with visitors.

More than that, it’s about pride. In a globalized world dominated by multinational brands, serving sharbat is a way of saying: ‘This is who we are.’ It’s our version of Japan’s matcha tea, India’s lassi, or Qatar’s lemon-mint. It’s uniquely Nepali.

During the FIFA World Cup in Qatar, I was part of the culinary team that helped upgrade the Qatar Airways inflight menu. One of the highlights was introducing the Qatari drink ‘lemon mint’—simple, refreshing, and rooted in identity. That moment made me think: why shouldn’t Nepal have its own national drink?

We already do. It’s in our homes, our farms, and our traditions. It’s called sarbat—our version of sharbat.

This is more than a campaign for a drink. It’s a campaign for national pride, health, and economic empowerment. I urge families, restaurants, tourism operators, and government officials to make sharbat part of everyday life.

Let’s serve it at international events. Let’s include it on hotel menus. Let’s encourage farmers to grow more lemons and sugarcane. Let’s support local producers of khudo. Let’s inspire young entrepreneurs to bottle Nepali sharbat and sell it to the world.

Every glass of sharbat we serve is a step toward self-reliance. It’s a drink that quenches more than thirst—it speaks to our roots, our resilience, and our rich culture. It’s affordable, accessible, and full of potential.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

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.