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Do you like how you feel in cafes and coffee shops? Do you find yourself wondering how you could replicate that atmosphere at home? Have you tried and not been able to get it right? We have a five-step guide to help you combine coziness, subtle aesthetics, and sensory comfort and transform your space.

It’s all about the music

One of the main things you notice when you enter a cafe is the soothing music playing in the background. create a personalized playlist featuring lo-fi, jazz, or acoustic music. You can also try YouTube playlists. Play the music on a bluetooth speaker. One tucked away on a shelf is just right to have music coming in from somewhere.

Evoke the senses with aromas 

While having a pot of coffee or fragrant tea brewing in the kitchen to fill the house with a pleasant aroma is ideal, it might not always be possible. Use incense, diffusers, or scented candles to always have your home smelling great. We recommend coffee, vanilla, or cinnamon scents to get that cafe ambience point on.

Pay attention to the decor

Cafe ambience is all about plants, books, and cute little trinkets. Stack books and magazines on a shelf. Get a small chalk board, set it up on the kitchen counter and write down your favorite quote or meal plan of the day. Find cool, vintage prints and hang them on the wall. Place plants in small pots on coffee and side tables or hang pothos from shelves. You can also have a few twigs from the garden displayed artistically in a small vase on your dining table.

Light up your space 

During the day, pull back the curtains and let natural light in. You can use sheer curtains to control the amount of light coming into the room. In the evening, make sure you use indirect, ambient, lighting, and not harsh overhead lights to create a mellow atmosphere. Think floor lamps, string lights, and low mood lighting in the form of candles and small lamps. Make sure you use warm lights instead of white lights for that added effect.

The devil is in the details

Once you have the basics down, don’t forget to add in some rustic details to give your space that cozy cafe vibe. Add throws or blankets on your sofa. Use natural fibers like cotton, hemp, and linen to keep things cool and comfortable. Make sure your space is tidy. Create little nooks where you can sit and sip on some coffee. Add dried flowers in small glass vases and keep them on the side tables. A great coffee table book can lend an element of intrigue while random trinkets, arranged artistically, on a tray can add charm. 

My trip to Muktinath, a sacred temple in Nepal’s Mustang district, began as a spiritual  pilgrimage. I expected silence, mountains and maybe some personal clarity. What I didn’t  expect was that the road itself—the actual journey—would teach me something deeper: why nations like Nepal struggle, not because of poverty or geography, but because of  broken systems. The Himalayas were everything I hoped for. Vast, ancient, silent. The  mountains don’t speak, but they say everything. In that silence, something inside you  wakes up. You feel tiny—but not in a diminished way. You feel connected, humbled, part of  something timeless. 

And then, the road reminds you: you’re still in Nepal. 

At first, everything was smooth. Well-paved stretches give you a sense of order, of progress.  Then suddenly—no warning—dust, potholes, mud, cliffs. No signs. No explanation. Just a sharp jolt. That’s when it hit me: this road is Nepal. Not just physically, but politically and  economically. It reflects how the country moves. Or fails to move. 

Economists Daron Acemoglu and James A Robinson, in their book Why Nations Fail, say  that nations don’t collapse because they’re poor or small—they fall when their institutions  become extractive. That means systems designed not to serve everyone, but to benefit a  small elite. When power is centralized, unaccountable and unresponsive to the people,  things fall apart. Just like the road. That road had moments of beauty—and then chaos. Like  when a traffic jam would appear out of nowhere. No rules, no traffic police. Just honking,  pushing and disorder. Yet somehow, people moved. It was dysfunctional, but it  functioned. That’s Nepal. A country where people no longer expect the system to help—but  find ways to survive anyway. 

Our driver embodied that spirit. He was fearless, navigating landslides and blind turns like a local James Bond. I was terrified. “Why are you scared?” he said. “There’s nothing to be  scared of.” It wasn’t bravery, it was normal for him. Because in Nepal, danger isn’t an  emergency. It’s routine. At one point, we passed a fresh landslide where the road had  barely been cleared. No warning signs. Just a man standing in the dust, motioning to  drivers. No uniform, no authority, just someone stepping in where the state had stepped  out. That moment stuck with me. In a nation where public services falter, ordinary people fill the void. Not because they have to—but because they must. 

And this is the tragedy: people become excellent at surviving systems that should have  protected them in the first place. 

Nepal’s economy feels just like that road. It’s moving—but always at risk. You can plan but never predict. And yet, life continues. People open shops, raise families, guide tourists, offer tea to strangers. They trust not in government, but in each other. That kind of social  capital is rare—and powerful. On those roads, I saw something remarkable: trust among  strangers. No road signs. No clear rules. But still, drivers cooperated. Because they had to.  That trust wasn’t built by policy. It came from culture. From the deep understanding that if people don’t care for each other, no one else will. 

But culture isn’t enough to build a country. Why Nations Fail makes it clear: without inclusive institutions—where opportunity is open to all, leadership is accountable, and  policies are shaped by participation—no amount of individual effort can fix systemic collapse. When policies are made by people who never walk the road, they forget where it  leads. I couldn’t help but ask: how often do our leaders walk these roads themselves? Do they feel the same jolts? Do they see the villagers’ patching holes with rocks? Or the  mothers selling noodles near construction dust while their kids play in broken corners of  concrete? Or do they see only blueprints and budgets? 

Nepal’s institutions feel just like those road bumps—sudden, unexplained and dangerous.  Too often, leaders govern without grounding. They change policies without clarity. They  promise without delivery. And still, people adapt. They move forward because it’s the only direction available. 

At Muktinath, I finally reached stillness again. Cold wind, ancient stones, sacred silence. You don’t need to understand everything to feel something shift inside. You just breathe.  And for a moment, it’s enough. But when I looked back at the journey, the literal road and  the metaphor it became, I couldn’t ignore the deeper lesson. Nepal doesn’t lack potential. It doesn’t lack spirit, creativity or community. What it lacks is leadership that walks the same road the people do. Institutions that work for everyone. Roads that are built not just  to impress, but to endure. 

Acemoglu and Robinson remind us that even countries that start the same—like North and South Korea—can end up in vastly different places if one builds extractive institutions and  the other builds inclusive ones. One stagnates, the other grows. It’s not fate. It’s a choice. Still, I believe change is possible. I see it in the eyes of young Nepalis—those who question, who leave and return, who imagine something better. I see it in those who fix what isn’t  their job to fix. In communities that cooperate even when the state fails. 

So yes, the mountains healed me. But the road taught me the truth. 

Nations don’t fail because their people are weak. They fail when their systems are weak. And  unless we rebuild those systems—with inclusion, accountability, and connection—we’ll  keep driving blind, hoping to avoid the next collapse. 

And still, despite it all, Nepal moves forward. Bumpy. Risky. Beautiful. Still going.

Phalyak, Dharkajung, and Pakling villages in Varagung Muktichhetra Rural Municipality are known as agricultural hubs. Among the 19 villages in the municipality, these areas are the leading producers of apples and grains. Farmers here grow fresh fruits and vegetables—including apples, papaya, potatoes, beans, corn, barley, and others—on fertile land, generating a good income.

However, local farmers in Phalyak and Dharkajung are now facing a growing irrigation crisis. Rising temperatures caused by climate change and the absence of snowfall during favorable periods have led to the gradual drying up of water sources. This has become a serious concern for the residents of Varagung Muktichhetra-5.

Ringjin Namgel Gurung, Chairperson of Varagung Muktichhetra Rural Municipality, said the lack of snowfall in Mustang over the past two years has dried up irrigation sources, posing significant challenges for local farmers. “Rain alone does not solve the irrigation problem here. For sufficient irrigation, snowfall must occur at the right time,” he said. “Due to increased carbon emissions, the springs are drying up, and the lack of irrigation in farmland is becoming a serious threat.”

Chairperson Gurung emphasized the need to identify new water sources to address the challenges brought on by the climate crisis. “In the past, 100 percent of the cultivable land used to be irrigated. Now, it’s hard to irrigate even 10 percent,” he said, noting a sharp decline in available water resources.

Surendra Gurung, Ward Chairperson of Varagung Muktichhetra-5, said that the Lumbuk River, which typically swells during June, July, and August, has begun to dry up. “All 100 households in Phalyak and Dharkajung rely on agriculture. But without irrigation, agriculture cannot survive,” he said. “The Lumbuk River was our main source of irrigation, but now it’s become unreliable. It should have had more water during this season, but it is instead shrinking.”

On Saturday, a team comprising local farmers, village leaders, the rural municipality chairperson and Vice-chairperson, and ward officials visited the source of the Lumbuk River to assess the situation. Vice-chairperson Dicky Gurung reported that all three sources near the Lumbuk waterfall are diminishing. “There has been no snowfall in Mustang for three consecutive years, and the Lumbuk River’s source has decreased by more than two-thirds compared to the past,” she said.

Local farmer Konchok Gurung from Dharkajung said he took the people’s representatives to inspect the spring after noticing a drastic drop in water flow. “Compared to previous years, the spring has significantly dried up, making irrigation extremely difficult,” he said. “If this continues, the community may be forced to relocate within a few years.”

Raju Gurung, a resident of Phalyak, echoed the concerns. “The Lumbuk River had been our lifeline, solving the irrigation problem for both villages. But now, as the spring dries up, the entire agricultural system is under threat,” he said.

In the past, a single farmer in these villages could irrigate 25 to 30 plots of land. Now, even four or five fields are difficult to manage. Locals believe that adequate snowfall during winter would restore the water level of the Lumbuk River through snowmelt. But the surrounding high mountains, once a dependable source of snow, are now barren.

As a symbolic gesture and act of hope, villagers from Phalyak and Dharkajung reached the Lumbuk Cave on Saturday and performed religious rituals, praying for the restoration of the water source that sustains their agricultural livelihood.

In recent years, Nepal has witnessed exponential growth in the use of various social media platforms. The most popular social media platforms include Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, Instagram and LinkedIn. Among these, Facebook maintains strong dominance over the Nepali social media landscape. According to data from the NapoleonCat, there were 16,479,500 Facebook users in Nepal as of Aug 2024, accounting for 51.6 percent of the population. Of these, 55.9 percent were male.

However, Facebook’s user base is gradually declining as adult users shift toward TikTok and GenZ increasingly favors platforms like TikTok and Instagram. Meanwhile, X is gaining popularity, particularly among news-savvy and politically-engaged users. But it has also become a tool for political propaganda, with ‘cyber armies’ from various political parties engaging in online smear campaigns and character assassination. This toxic environment is pushing intellectuals and thoughtful users away from the platform.

LinkedIn, on the other hand, is growing steadily in popularity among professionals seeking networking and career development opportunities. The spread of misinformation, disinformation, hate speech and cybercrime has become a pressing issue globally. Many countries are grappling with how to regulate social media in ways that respect freedom of speech while addressing these concerns. While many European nations have developed balanced approaches, several South Asian countries, including Bangladesh, are using social media regulations to suppress political opposition. 

Nepal is no exception. For over 15 years, authorities have misused Section 47 of the Electronic Transaction Act to arrest journalists and silence critics. Recently, this trend has intensified, with ruling party leaders increasingly targeting those who voice dissent. Criticisms of the government or political parties are often misclassified as fake news or hate speech, even when it clearly is not. This raises concerns that new laws may also be exploited for similar purposes.

In February, the government introduced the Social Media Act Bill in the National Assembly, the upper house of the country’s federal parliament. The Bill has sparked public debate due to several fundamental flaws. The first and foremost is the flawed legislative process itself: government officials involved in consultations have adopted a narrow, bureaucratic perspective.

There is a belief within bureaucracy that regulation can be achieved by simply creating a department. This approach fails to recognize that regulating digital platforms is far more complex than overseeing traditional media like radio, television or print which are historically governed by the Ministry of Communication and Information Technology and its subordinate bodies.

Social media regulation is multi-faceted and far-reaching. No state agency can realistically monitor an entire population. Yet the ministry appears to consult only with stakeholders like the Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ), organizations of journalists affiliated with major political parties and a handful of non-governmental organizations close to the ruling parties. Independent academics and experts outside the political sphere are largely excluded from the process.

This issue is not limited to social media bills; similar problems exist in other media-related legislation. While parliament has the authority to correct fundamental flaws, lawmakers often lack necessary expertise. Many rely on briefings from NGOs. This limited input, combined with their often weak academic backgrounds, proves insufficient. Lawmakers frequently raise concerns merely to appease journalists rather than engaging meaningfully in the legislative process.

From top to bottom, the bill is riddled with problems. The preamble fails to affirm commitment to international treaties and conventions and other legal instruments to which Nepal is a party. The country has signed international treaties and conventions expressing its full commitment to upholding freedom of speech and expression. But the principles laid out by those international conventions often clash with the narrow understanding held by many Nepali politicians who view criticism as a threat rather than a democratic right.

The 2015 constitution, like its previous versions, contains progressive provisions when it comes to safeguarding freedom of speech and expression. The draft briefly touches the constitutional provision of freedom of speech and expression but remains silent about international commitment. Regarding the international part, the bill states that as other countries are formulating the news, Nepal also needs to formulate the law which is a misrepresentation of Nepal’s international commitments.  The Supreme Court has also delivered landmark verdicts upholding these rights.

However, recent rulings by lower courts appear to contradict the precedents set by the apex court. These decisions only briefly acknowledge the constitutional guarantee of free speech, signaling a shift away from the earlier commitment to protecting this fundamental right.

The Social Media Bill reflects this trend. It fails to clearly state that its purpose is to strengthen freedom of speech and expressions. Instead, it focuses more heavily on regulating social media users, given the impression that its main intent is to restrict, rather than protect, free expression.  

Undeniably, countries across the world are moving quickly to regulate social media to mitigate its negative impacts on society and democracy. But such efforts must never come at the cost of fundamental freedoms, especially freedom of speech, expression and press. Nepal should study how other nations have successfully enacted social media without undermining democratic rights.

Before drafting the bill, the government should have consulted with representatives of major social media companies. Content regulation and moderation are core to the functioning of these platforms, and without their cooperation, any regulatory framework is likely to fail. In this context, Nepal’s top political leadership should use its diplomatic and political channels to engage with these companies. For instance, a few months ago, there was communication between Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli and Elon Musk on certain issues. This shows such outreach is possible.

Regrettably, the ministry issued a public notice demanding that social media giants register in Nepal and obtain licenses. It even set a deadline that went ignored. The ministry also threatened to shut down social media platforms, a move widely seen as immature and impractical. A more constructive approach would have been to initiate dialogue, revise the proposed provisions in consultation with these companies and then develop a feasible licensing system.

As it stands, the bill grants sweeping powers to a government-formed department to oversee all social media-related issues. Given the scale and complexity of regulating digital platforms, this is highly problematic. What’s needed is an independent, empowered commission—free from political interference, bureaucratic control, corporate influence and other vested interests. Such a body should be authorized to work directly with social media companies to ensure effective and fair regulation.

The current draft appears to be designed with the aim of removing political content critical of ruling parties. In recent years, there has been a clear trend of political parties using state agencies to target and punish critics of the government and party leadership. If passed without meaningful amendments, the bill risks becoming an extension of the Cyber Bureau, an institution that has already been misused for political purposes.

One positive aspect of the bill is its commitment to launching a large-scale awareness campaign on the responsible use of social media. It proposes to raise public awareness through publications, broadcasts, websites, seminars, public service announcements and dialogues. However, the government does not need to wait for the bill to be passed to begin this vital initiative.

In conclusion, the government must take proactive steps to address the fundamental flaws in the draft bill as it is evident that the agencies involved have failed to adequately study international best practices or documents prepared by global institutions.