Submit your Article

In 2017, Sajan Shrestha was working as a driver. By 2018, he had ventured into the world of stand-up comedy. A friend suggested he watch Kshitiz KC’s comedy and that opened his eyes to a new world, where jokes could change how you view things and even make someone’s day. “The idea of comedy, and its ability to resonate with people, fascinated me,” he says.

But stepping into the world of stand-up wasn’t as simple as it seemed. “I was really scared of crowds,” he says. “I almost decided not to do it but then I decided to give it a shot. That first show was amazing.”

His debut performance was a memorable one—a comedic exploration of the quirks of a ‘typical mom’. “Looking back at those early days, I’m a little embarrassed,” he says. “We didn’t know much about jokes or timing. We just went up there and cracked jokes about whatever came to mind.”

What started as a fear of crowds evolved into a love for the energy they bring. “I didn’t know it then, but those early shows were some of the best moments of my life. Now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else—there’s something powerful about connecting with an audience, sharing a laugh, and feeling their energy.”

A major turning point in Shrestha’s career came when he found himself torn between his passion for comedy and the reality of having to eke out a living. “Most comedians at the time were struggling with their finances,” he says, adding after a year of pursuing comedy, he started feeling guilty. There was no financial growth, and he was newly married. He began to question his decision and even considered going back to his old driving job. But despite the financial challenges, comedy still had a strong pull.

His breakthrough came when he started participating in Comedy Champion, which helped him gain recognition. Just when things seemed to be turning around, the pandemic lockdown happened. “I was completely hopeless,” he says. “With just Rs 20,000 in my account, I was feeling frustrated and lost.”

Then, he decided to start his own YouTube channel, a move that would eventually become a lifeline during the lockdown. He started creating reaction videos on the reality show ‘Blind Date’. It was something his wife suggested. This allowed him to build a solid online presence.

Determined to make his YouTube channel work, he started researching the equipment he would need to produce quality videos. He quickly learned about cameras, lights, and microphones—but the reality was that he had none of these. His only tool was an old mobile phone, one that was slow and struggled to capture clear footage.

Undeterred, he got creative and transformed a small room into a makeshift studio, using the window as his primary light source and a bent laptop as a tripod. For lighting, he dug into DIY tutorials and made a lamp using a cardboard box and a CFL bulb.

“The mobile was so old that I had to edit the videos by listening to the audio, because the video wouldn’t even play properly on that phone,” he says. Despite the limitations, Shrestha pushed forward, determined to make it work. Things began to look up when a friend gifted him a microphone on his birthday. “I was really happy and excited to finally have a proper mic. It felt like my setup was starting to come together,” he says.

One of the major challenges Shrestha faced early in his career was navigating the complex landscape of censorship. The freedom to express humor in Nepal was limited, and comedians often found themselves toeing a fine line. “Comedians were put in jail simply because of the type of comedy they performed,” he says. This environment created a sense of fear and caution, as comedians not only had to avoid offending people. They even received threats from those who took jokes too personally.

What was worse was that Shrestha and his fellow comedians had no mentors to guide them. They were forced to learn the ropes on their own, seeking inspiration from foreign and Indian comedians to understand what worked in the comedy scene. “The comedy that was popular in Nepal at the time wasn’t youth-centric. It was more politically driven,” he says. Watching international comedians gave them a broader perspective, and they began to carve out a new style—one that resonated with younger audiences and moved away from the heavy political satire that dominated the scene

His love for performing in front of a crowd grew with time. Stand-up is unique. It offers immediate audience feedback. Comedians face the pressure of eliciting laughter or risk having their jokes fall flat. The primary goal is to entertain and connect with the audience through humor. However, this dynamic can be tricky. “You never know how a joke will land. What makes one person laugh might offend someone else,” he says.

Stand-up performances are fleeting moments, meant to be experienced live, yet in today’s digital age, audience members often film and share these performances online. This creates an added layer of pressure, making it harder for comedians to experiment with new material. “I just wish everyone would be considerate and refrain from recording our sets,” he says, highlighting the need for a supportive atmosphere that allows comedians to explore their craft without the fear of permanent judgment.

He also started a podcast channel where he talks to people from the entertainment industry. This way, he has had the opportunity to connect with many people, and he’s begun to gain recognition in the community. He also launched a segment called ‘Bear the Dare’ where he visits different locations, poses tricky questions to strangers, and offers them a chance to win money. “It started as a backup plan, just in case the podcast didn’t work,” he says.

Shrestha admits he has a spontaneous approach to life. “I’m not someone who likes to plan. I believe not everything goes as planned, and that can be disappointing. Instead, I let life unfold naturally.” His journey is testament to the fact that stepping out of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected and rewarding transformations.

When we embarked on a trek to Panchase, a place known for its serene forests and breathtaking views, little did we know that this journey would introduce us to an unlikely companion. Sheru, a stray dog, became the guardian and guide of our journey.

Our adventure began in the early morning from Pokhara, taking a bus to Kande, the starting point of our expedition. Hungry and excited, we stopped at a small hotel for breakfast. That’s where we first met Sheru. She was hanging around the hotel, but there was something about her that caught our attention. After a while, she cautiously approached us, and we instantly became friends.

We never asked Sheru to join us on our trek. In fact, we thought she would follow us only for a short while. But as we started our expedition, Sheru seemed to decide that she was now part of our group. She followed us quietly, keeping pace with us and sometimes leading the way, as if she knew the trail by heart.

By 8 am, we had set off from Kande. The trail took us through mesmerizing Rhododendron forests, villages, and paths filled with the chirping of birds. Around 11:30 am, we reached Bhadaure village, where the local homestay community welcomed us warmly. Sheru was right there with us, blending in as if she belonged to our team from the start.

Throughout the trek, Sheru was more than just a follower; she became a source of motivation. Whenever we paused to rest, she waited patiently, her presence somehow urging us to keep going. We shared our food with her, and in return, she gave us companionship and a sense of safety in the wilderness.

After Bhadaure, we came across ‘3 Dhara’, a spot with natural spring water where we refilled our bottles. From here, the trail split into two—one path led to Panchase Peak, and the other to Panchase Lake. Due to a mix-up, our group got separated, with one half heading towards the peak and the other towards the lake. With no network to communicate and growing confusion, it was Sheru who brought us back together, guiding us through the jungle paths.

As we reunited and continued towards Panchase Lake, Sheru stayed by our side. The lake, enveloped in a blanket of Rhododendrons, was a peaceful sanctuary, like stars twinkling in the sky. We rested and soaked in the tranquility, rejuvenated by the beauty around us.

Our plan was to reach Sidane before nightfall, and as we began our descent, the sun started to set. Sheru seemed more excited than ever, leading us through the protected forests of Panchase, known for its rich biodiversity, including various orchid species. She guided us to Sidane, where the homestay awaited us with a warm welcome and a cup of tea. We spent the evening around a campfire, preparing sekuwa and reflecting on the day's trek. Despite walking 20 kilometers, we were filled with a sense of accomplishment, and Sheru had been a catalyst in making this journey memorable

The next day, we set out early from Sidane, determined to cover the remaining 20 kilometers to Pokhara. After a breakfast of selroti and chiya at the homestay, we began our trek. Once again, Sheru was our guide, leading us through beautiful Gurung villages, across suspension bridges, past waterfalls, and through orchid forests. The beauty of the trail was matched by the serenity of the surrounding nature, and Sheru's presence made it even more special.

The village of Gatichina, a rest stop on the way, offered a refreshing break. With its scenic waterfall, it was the perfect place to catch our breath. As we continued, the stone-paved Gurung villages felt like stepping back in time, each turn revealing more of Nepal's natural and cultural heritage.

Finally, we reached Pame, the endpoint of our trek and the place where we had to part ways with Sheru. Saying goodbye was difficult. Sheru had been more than just a stray dog; she was our protector, guide, and friend. It felt like a mutual relationship, where we looked out for each other. Her companionship had turned an ordinary trek into an extraordinary journey, leaving us with memories that would last a lifetime.

Sheru’s story is a representation of the many stray dogs that accompany trekkers in Nepal. They guide, motivate, and even protect us, adding an unexpected layer of joy to the adventure. These silent companions leave paw prints not just on the trails but on our hearts as well.

Sheru’s story is a reminder of the unseen guardians that make our trekking experiences more memorable. These stray dogs might be nameless and voiceless, but their impact is profound, guiding us through the trails and leaving behind stories of companionship and mutual respect.

Have you ever had a chicken dish at a restaurant and wished you could have it every single day? I have a couple of dishes that I wish I could have for lunch or dinner on a regular basis. But it’s neither healthy nor financially feasible to order your favorite meal like that. So, wouldn’t it be great if you could replicate them at home instead? This way you can ensure the food is fresh and the spice/oil quotient is exactly right.

I often turn to YouTube recipes, especially Ranveer Brar’s channel, to make some dishes that isn’t our usual thing. But trying to cook while watching someone instruct is a harrowing experience. I can never keep up and it always takes longer than the stipulated time. And that is one of the reasons why I like cookbooks. They are easier to work with. Over the last few years, I’ve amassed quite a few cookbooks. I recently got Dan Toombs ‘The Curry Guy’ and it’s become my favorite one so far.

It’s a bright pink book filled with spicy chicken recipes. There’s everything from the classic butter chicken to elaborate kebabs and grilled delicacies. As with most cookbooks I have, this one also has full page photos of the dishes accompanying the recipes. Looking at the photos in cookbooks is one of the best parts of owning so many. I must admit that when buying a cookbook, the layout and presentation of the photos is a deciding factor.

The Curry Guy is divided into seven sections. There’s ‘Starters and Snacks’, ‘Karahi Cooking’, ‘Chicken Curry, Stews and Sauce-based Dishes’, ‘Frying and Stir-fries’, ‘Wraps and Sandwiches’, ‘Barbecue’ and ‘Basics, Accompaniments, and Sides’. Each section has interesting tips and recipes that you, until now, have only had at restaurants. Now, with Toombs help you can make them at home. The best part is that the dishes taste absolutely delicious—the recipes have been perfected in Toombs’ kitchen. You will also come to know about many other cooking styles and restaurant style gravies and curries.

You will learn how to make Dragon Chicken, Punjabi Chicken Samosa, Goan-Style Chicken Vindaloo, Szechuan Chicken, Chicken Rogan Josh, Kolkata Chicken Chaap, Chicken Shami Kebabs, and much more. If you follow the recipe to a t, the dish will taste like a restaurant cooked meal. I also loved the language which is quite conversational and gentle. This book of recipes from South and Southeast Asia will be an essential guide that you won’t be able to do without once you have a copy.

The Curry Guy (Chicken)

Dan Toombs

Published: 2024

Publisher: Quadrille Publishing Limited

Pages: 175, Hardcover

Nepal has established legal frameworks to combat corruption, yet it remains deeply embedded within political and institutional frameworks. This entrenchment is particularly evident when high-ranking elected leaders openly defend corrupt actors.

Policy corruption refers to manipulation of public policies for private gains. It has surged in Nepal because of several interrelated factors: parliamentary affairs buckling down to party whips and whims, the increasing dependency of civil society groups on international assistance at the expense of their autonomy and the loss of credibility within Nepal’s highly politicized judiciary. Institutions that are supposed to check executive powers are either failing to do their jobs or have become part of the kleptocratic network. As a result, budget (policy) caters to a significant number of new projects rather than offering directions to complete the existing ones. Funds are mostly directed to projects that are susceptible to theft, rather than those that genuinely serve the public interest. This leads to a decline in investments in essential social sectors such as education and health. For instance, Nepal’s federal education budget decreased from 15.66 percent of total expenditure in fiscal year 2013-14 to just 11.27 percent in 2023-24, reaching the lowest 5.18 percent in 2017-18. While the health sector budget rose from three percent in 2017-18 to 8.6 percent in 2021-22—likely due to the pressing need to respond to Covid pandemic—it subsequently dropped to 5.8 percent in 2023-24. These allocations fall significantly short of comparable international benchmarks for investment in essential social sectors.

Public procurement is one of the important government functions. It is also one of the most vulnerable public functions because it receives a substantial portion of public funds, accounting for nearly 25 percent of the total public expenditure. According to the Asian Development Bank (ADB), if principal debt payments are excluded, this figure can go as high as 50 percent. Regardless, the share of procurement in public expenditure is significant and it is likely to grow. However, the credibility of public procurement has declined, and the process has become cumbersome and expensive, increasing incentives to bypass established protocols by offering favors to public officials. This trend has been amplified by a growing nexus between government and the private sector, exemplified by the increasing number of lawmakers representing the business community. Many elected officials have openly promoted their personal businesses while serving in public office, further blurring the lines between private gain and public responsibility.

According to a study conducted by the Federation of Contractors’ Associations of Nepal (FCAN), eight construction entrepreneurs won seats in the House of Representatives in the 2022 general election. Eleven others secured provincial assembly seats. Additionally, in the local body elections held in May 2022, 247 contractors got elected, including 104 as mayors or chairpersons. Furthermore, 129 contractors were elected as ward chairpersons, 14 as ward members and two as district coordination committee members. Recently, the chairperson of a prominent construction company was appointed Minister for Urban Development. The minister continued to run his business and made decisions that benefited his company

Both the Public Procurement Act, 2007 and its associated regulations brought a year later grant significant discretionary authority to public officials. As a result, decisions regarding the types and locations of projects—airports and view towers come to mind—often lack a scientific basis. This discretionary authority arises primarily from deliberately ambiguous language within the laws. The procurement laws, for example, are filled with terms that can be manipulated for personal gain, such as “as prescribed” (‘tokiye bamojim’) and “maybe” (garina sakine cha). Notably, the term “as prescribed” appears 62 times, while "maybe” is mentioned 67 times in the procurement regulations.

It is striking that, in a country where policymaking tends to be slow, the procurement regulations have been amended 13 times since their introduction in 2008. Notably, six of these amendments (from the 6th to the 11th) occurred within just one year. Among these changes, the most controversial pertained to the criteria for assessing the financial qualifications of bidders, which have been altered multiple times. Other amendments permitted businesses to extend project timelines and raised the upper threshold for domestic-only competition. One particular amendment restricted competition by only allowing a select few businesses to bid for projects up to Rs 5bn. It is evident many of these amendments were not implemented to serve the national interest but rather to favor one or two particular companies.

While many scholars agree that the primary objectives of public procurement should be to support the acquisition of quality goods and services at competitive costs in a timely manner, the prevailing focus in Nepal tends to be on low-cost bidding. Technical evaluation is part of the process, but it is often discarded after preliminary screening. Although the law does not explicitly require a need to prioritize the lowest cost, this approach is how oversight institutions typically evaluate procurement activities. As a result, contractors are incentivized to underbid, only to seek contract extensions at higher costs later on.

Public procurement is indeed a daunting task. For public officials, fear of punitive measures sometimes works as a deterrent. The incumbent Minister for Health and Population has noted that some existing legal provisions can frustrate good intentions. He explained how the ministry was unable to use life-saving equipment due to an ongoing investigation into the procurement process.

The minister’s call for safeguarding good intentions and developing a clear understanding of how to make procurement transparent makes sense. One effective way to begin this process is by facilitating dialogues around bills both before and after they are tabled in the parliament. We must find innovative ways to bring good people to policymaking at all levels. This approach can also help ensure that these bills do not become overly centered on individual or party interests.

The author is the executive director of Niti Foundation