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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Special occasions call for special cakes. Don’t you agree? If you are tired of ordering the same vanilla or black forest cake every time there’s something to celebrate, we’re here to save the day with our recommendations. Here are five amazing businesses you can try to shake things up. They have a nice line up of cakes that will leave you spoilt for choice.

Kharayo Bakes

From fresh gooey brownies and cheesecakes to energy bars and truffles, there’s a lot you can choose from when you are in the mood for something sweet. They take online orders and are quick with deliveries but if you want to check their range of goodies, they have an outlet at Hanuman Dhoka in Kathmandu as well. We have heard that you can never have enough of their milk cake and cheesecake.

Cakes Galore

If you want fancy party cakes, for birthdays, weddings, or anniversaries, look no further than Cakes Galore. Their tiered cakes are such stunning pieces and, though you might not want to cut (and ruin) them, they taste as wonderful as they look. They make customized cakes so you can get that ‘perfect’ cake of your dreams. However, you have to order well in advance so this can’t be an option if you’re planning something last minute.

UG Cakes

This could be your go-to place for cute bento box cakes that you can have all on your own or share with a friend. They have a wide range of flavors and the designs are simple and classy. They also take orders for bigger cakes but you could also create a neat line up or cluster of their bento cakes to serve at a large party. You also have the option of becoming their college brand ambassador or enrolling yourself in a bakery training course. This is one local business that seems to be taking its work quite seriously and trying to do as much as it can besides serving yummy desserts.

Dessert First

Available only on pre-order, Dessert First has a variety of cakes, desserts, and chocolates. A few regulars vouch for the quality of their ingredients. They say it’s the absolute best. The designs are elaborate and the cakes melt in your mouth. It’s quite literally a slice of heaven, says one customer adding she will never order from elsewhere. They are also prompt with deliveries though you can choose to pick up your order as well if you are more comfortable with that.

Sesame Bakery and Coffee

A quaint little place offering coffee and cakes, what more could you want? Located in Bakhundol in Lalitpur, Sesame Bakery and Coffee is a relatively new place serving a range of breads and cakes. Their mousse cakes are quite popular and so are their macarons that they claim to make from high quality ingredients. The café in itself is a nice place to hang out alone or with friends and indulge in some sweet treats.

Foreign employment has been heralded as a lifeline for Nepal’s struggling economy for a long time. The glossy statistics on remittance have painted a picture of collective prosperity. Yet the allure of economic gain masks a brutal reality that is far less glamorous, especially for women. Foreign employment poses challenges to women not only as those who travel to the destination country but those who remain in the country of origin as well. For those left behind in rural Nepal, the absence of male members of the family members often means isolation, economic vulnerability and an overwhelming burden of household responsibilities. For those women who dare to venture abroad, the promise of a better life is often replaced by exploitation, abuse and a deep sense of social alienation. This vicious cycle of suffering, silenced by the glitter of remittance dollars, exposes the dark underbelly of foreign employment.

Foreign employment, while conjuring the image of economic upliftment, neglects the profound social costs that come with it. As rural men migrate for work, women who stay behind are forced to take on dual roles. This not only thrusts them into challenging positions of managing households alone but also compels them to step into roles that are otherwise historically done by men which include overseeing finances and maintaining farms. 

In cases like these women are not empowered by their new responsibilities but instead overwhelmed. The workload increases with no increase in helping hands and support mechanisms. This dual burden leads to exhaustion and mental health challenges. In the context of rural women, who are marginalized by geography these challenges are compounded by lack of resources and social networks to cope with this shift. Their workload intensifies while their autonomy remains constrained by societal expectations and limited access in decision making roles within the family.

The narrative that women in rural areas are mere passive recipients of remittances is misleading. They are not passive beneficiaries as in reality they are managing the entire households and communities. But their labor, both emotional and physical, goes unacknowledged, perpetuating their marginalization.As men leave, rural communities face depopulation, and agriculture, the major source of livelihood for many families suffers. With fewer hands available to work on the fields, the fields lie barren, further eroding food security. Moreover, this situation places women in a precarious position of economic and social vulnerability. The absence of male members of the family increases their exposure to exploitation. Women in rural Nepal, now the sole managers of remittances, are vulnerable to manipulation and economic abuse from extended families or in-laws who may take advantage of their isolated position.

Financial success abroad does not necessarily translate into marital success at home. At times, the long separations caused by foreign employment stretch the familial bonds to their breaking point. Communication between spouses becomes infrequent, often leading to misunderstandings, conflicts over money and sometimes even divorce. There have been reported cases of husband/wife forging new relationships abroad or at home, disrupting their married lives. 

For many women, the emotional strain of running a household alone, coupled with societal pressures to maintain family honor could lead to several mental health issues. Any perceived failure such as financial struggles, household management or even relationship issues may be seen as personal failure further intensifying the mental burden. Depression, anxiety and loneliness are evident issues, but these women are often left to cope without any access to mental health care or even a listening ear. While the men abroad are hailed as breadwinners, women shoulder the emotional and psychological costs of sustaining the family integrity.

While the challenges faced by women left behind are severe, those who migrate for work face an entirely new set of struggles. It takes only a small mistake for the journey of economic dreams to turn into exploitation nightmares. Women migrating to countries in the Middle East or Southeast Asia for work, often in caregiving or domestic roles, are vulnerable to extreme exploitation. These sectors, characterized by poor working conditions, long hours, and meager pay, frequently expose women to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

Migrant women, especially those undocumented or without proper legal protections, live in constant fear of deportation or retaliation, making it difficult to seek help or report abuse. The very systems that are meant to protect them, legal aid and worker’s rights organizations, are often inaccessible due to language barriers, cultural differences, or fear of losing their jobs. These barriers leave women trapped in exploitative situations with little recourse to justice. Adding to their plight is the severe isolation that migrant women often endure. Live-in domestic workers, in particular, are cut off from the outside world, living at the mercy of their employers. This isolation, compounded by the pressures of being away from their families, leads to significant mental health challenges, including depression and loneliness. The lack of social contact or support systems exacerbates their already precarious situation.

A particularly harsh reality for female migrant workers is the issue of unwanted pregnancies, often resulting from sexual exploitation. Many women, isolated and vulnerable, find themselves in situations where they are taken advantage of by employers or intermediaries. With limited access to reproductive healthcare, these women are at high risk of unsafe abortions and other health complications, jeopardizing their physical well-being and sometimes their lives. Destination countries frequently fail to provide adequate healthcare for migrant women, particularly those in the lower rungs of the workforce. In addition, cultural and legal restrictions around reproductive rights often prevent women from seeking the help they need, forcing them to resort to dangerous methods to terminate pregnancies or manage health issues.

The challenges faced by women, both at home and abroad, highlight the deeply gendered impact of labor migration. As women are increasingly called upon to take on new roles without adequate support, both within the household and in foreign countries, the social fabric begins to fray. Communities become depopulated, family ties strained, and the societal role of women burdened by unrealistic expectations. Critically, the focus on remittances while essential to the economy often overshadows these social costs. The long-term effects of migration on women are frequently absent from policy discussions, which tend to focus on the financial benefits rather than the deep social wounds migration creates. Migration is an inevitable economic reality for many Nepali families, but it need not come at the cost of women’s well-being. By recognizing the gender-specific challenges inherent in labor migration and addressing them through targeted policies, Nepal and its labor partners can ensure that foreign employment is a true path to prosperity, one that uplifts rather than exploits the women at its core.