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Raksha Bandhan is a special occasion to celebrate the bond between siblings—particularly the relationship between brothers and sisters. It’s a day that symbolizes love, protection and commitment, not only among biological siblings but also among those who share a deep, familial connection beyond blood. The festival serves as a beautiful reminder of the strength and importance of these cherished relationships. ApEx tried to find out how people felt about this lovely festival. 

Prasuna Khanal, 23

Rakshya Bandhan, to me, is a thread that holds together every childhood laugh, every tear wiped in silence and every unbroken promise of “I’m always here”. It makes me pause and feel grateful for the people who stand by me, no matter what. In this small ritual, I feel the comfort of home and the kind of love that doesn’t need words. 

I celebrate Rakshya Bandhan with my biological siblings and my cousins, who feel just as close to my heart. For me, it's not just about blood relations but about the love, laughter and shared memories that tie us together. Whether by birth or by bond, the day is about cherishing those who stand by me like my own family. When we were children, it was all about doro and kwati and the excitement of rituals. Now, it’s also a special day to celebrate the bond between brothers and sisters, filled with emotion, memories and heartfelt gestures beyond just tradition.

Ashish Bisunke, 31

It’s a bond of love between siblings, a promise to be there for each other in times of need. In childhood, it’s a day to exchange gifts, but as we grow old, it’s a day to recall our childhood days and treasure our relationship. I personally celebrate it with anyone who has a bond of sisterhood with me. I have received many. It means a lot that someone finds the comfort of a family member/guardian in you. I used to prank my sister with a fake gift (a very small one) to watch her disappointment and expression. Later, the change in expression when she got the actual gift would be a precious one. Over time, the gifts and the way of wishing might have changed as we accept new advancements, but the essence has remained the same.

Nagma Kharel, 35 

For me, it’s a bond and love sharing festival between siblings in which we promise to protect one other for a lifetime.  I celebrate the day with my siblings and cousins. The bond  has always been so special as I have an eight year old cousin brother beside my biological brother and I feel so privileged to have their love and affection. My birthday falls on Raksha Bandhan as per lunar calendar, so every Raksha Bandhan is special for me. My sister and brother are abroad and I miss them during this special time but we make time to wish one another and that feels really special. 

The concept of the zebra crossing is generally credited to British Member of Parliament James Callaghan, who later became Prime Minister. The first official zebra crossing was introduced in Slough, United Kingdom, on 31 Oct 1951. Following this, the British government adopted the design for pedestrian crossings nationwide.

A safe walking environment not only ensures protection for pedestrians but also promotes a sense of comfort and friendliness. It encourages social and physical activities such as walking, running, and cycling. Pedestrian crossings are marked by different textures, surfaces, or colors to make them easily visible to both drivers and pedestrians. Roads also carry various signs for safety, including speed limits, school zones, hospital areas, no horn zones, humps, turns, and other necessary traffic control devices. Additionally, traffic FM radios regularly announce safety tips and traffic updates.

Zebra crossings are pedestrian facilities used worldwide, including in Nepal. They are designated as safe zones for pedestrians to cross and help alert drivers to reduce their speed. The horizontal line before the zebra crossing marks where vehicles must stop and wait until pedestrians have fully crossed. However, studies suggest that many pedestrian casualties occur at unsignalized zebra crossings.

In my observation, traffic police often focus more on managing vehicles than on protecting pedestrians. Even in major traffic junctions, pedestrians are frequently overlooked. Some traffic lights are non-functional, forcing people to cross without signals. Occasionally, volunteers or police are seen helping pedestrians cross, but this is not consistent. Many pedestrians, especially those new to the city, are unfamiliar with zebra crossings or the meanings of green, yellow, and red lights. Although schools and awareness programs may teach road safety, these lessons are often not practiced.

Road safety is further compromised by noisy motorcyclists and reckless drivers who merge onto main roads without slowing down, forcing others to brake suddenly. While the speed limit in city areas ranges from 25 to 50 km/h, many drivers treat public roads like racetracks. It’s common to see young riders, especially those with a passenger behind, recklessly weaving across lanes. The roar of their modified exhausts is not only disturbing but terrifying.

Stray dogs also pose a serious risk, often chasing motorcyclists and cyclists, leading to accidents. Municipalities have shown little concern for managing stray animals. Public buses and microbuses routinely stop in the middle of the road instead of designated stops, and drivers aggressively overtake using the wrong lanes to pick up more passengers. Ambulances struggle to navigate traffic during emergencies, with other drivers showing little urgency to give way.

While drivers are expected to pass a licensing test, their on-road behavior often shows a lack of responsibility. Though violators are fined and required to attend traffic awareness classes, these measures don’t seem to be effectively implemented. Even educated drivers, including those in private vehicles, government cars, diplomatic vehicles with blue CD plates, and INGOs, frequently ignore basic rules—such as stopping for pedestrians at zebra crossings.

Drivers often follow the rules only when traffic police are visibly present. Otherwise, chaos prevails. Honking is constant, even in sensitive zones like schools and hospitals. Parents, senior citizens, and people with disabilities are left terrified while trying to cross. Some pedestrians move slowly, either out of fear or carelessness, even when physically capable. Others cross outside designated zones, further increasing risks. Ironically, in Nepal, it’s often the pedestrian who must wait for vehicles to pass before daring to cross the zebra.

Today, many pedestrians and drivers are distracted by phones, smoking, eating, or listening to music while crossing or driving, putting themselves and others in danger.

According to Nepal Police Headquarters, in fiscal year 2024/25, there were 28,692 road accidents and 2,377 fatalities nationwide. Kathmandu Valley alone reported 7,164 accidents and 186 deaths. Additionally, 216 road incidents involved four-footed animals, with 172 dying and 44 injured.

Pedestrian crossings should be installed in areas with high foot traffic such as schools, hospitals, offices, markets, and city centers. They should be equipped with pedestrian signals, audible beeping for the visually impaired, and clear lighting. Some pedestrians have multiple disabilities, and drivers must be patient and compassionate. At times, bending the rules for humane reasons is justified.

This is not to say nothing has been done. Traffic police are trying their best. However, unsignalized crossings remain prone to crashes, and pedestrian behavior significantly influences outcomes. Drivers must learn to anticipate how pedestrians behave when crossing.

I’ve seen parents carrying newborns and up to five children on a motorbike, without helmets. This is dangerous and should be strictly prohibited. Like in Western countries, children should not sit in the front seat of a car; they should have proper child seats and seat belts.

I drive both a scooter and a bicycle, depending on the need. I love cycling to the market or office, but I’ve stopped recently because cycling in Kathmandu feels unsafe. There’s no dedicated bike lane, and other drivers behave as though cyclists don’t belong on the road.

Can education alone make pedestrians safer? In Nepal, that’s an open question. The problem lies in the mindset. Drivers often forget that they, too, are pedestrians when they’re not behind the wheel. Many follow rules abroad but revert to chaos once back in Nepal. Why?

Traffic education and awareness programs seem ineffective. What's missing is consciousness, empathy, and accountability. Traffic police cannot be stationed at every zebra crossing. Drivers must be self-aware, patient, and compassionate, not just rule-followers, but responsible road users. Let’s strive for compassion and care on the road. That’s the only way a society becomes truly civilized.

We all use our phones way too much than we would like to admit. And as much as we try to minimize its use, there’s no denying that we invariably end up reaching for it—to make a call, text someone, or simply scroll through social media or watch some funny videos on YouTube. One of our readers confessed that she constantly turns on her phone to check the time since she doesn’t wear a watch and that inevitably has her checking her messages or social media accounts even when she doesn’t really need to. 

A digital detox is a time when you intentionally reduce the use of your devices to promote well-being and take care of your mental health. It’s believed to improve focus and sleep and reduce stress. It’s a well known fact that disconnecting from screens before bed can improve your sleep quality and that staying away from social media can help you forge better real-life connections. But as well meaning as our intentions might be, the allure of a smartphone or tablet is more often than not all too great. 

There are, however, small steps you can take to spend some time tech-free and become more in control of your life. The first and foremost thing you can do to stop letting tech control your life is set a clear goal on how much screen-time you are allowed. You can set a time for device use, schedule tech-free time, or declare the bedroom as a no-phone or tablet area. 

Next up, consider deleting social media apps from your phone. One of the people ApEx spoke to says his screen time went down significantly once he uninstalled Facebook and Instagram from his android phone. This, he says, was because he became less inclined to open the sites through browsers as that was a long process. Social media wasn’t just a tap away and that inaccessibility acted as a deterrent. 

Another thing that can help you disconnect from digital devices is to find hobbies that you can engage in. Whether it’s gardening, reading, or crocheting, hobbies can help reduce the time you spend scrolling on your phone. After all, we are more likely to curl up on the couch with our phones when we are bored and find ourselves with nothing better to do. Engaging in mindful activities that bring you joy can change how and when you use tech. 

And finally, consider switching off your phone and tablets during specific times of the day or for a day every week to start with. If that sounds like a bit much, then at least put your devices on silent mode. You will definitely use them less when you aren’t constantly distracted by message pings and notifications. 

A study has found that heavy technology use on a daily basis is associated with an increased risk of mental health problems among young adults. It was also linked to increased symptoms of ADHD and decreased well-being. A digital detox, thus, can be a good way to help you focus on your mental and physical well-being and not let technology rule your life. 

“The Gaad has turned reckless; it has now become a curse to us,” laments 70-year-old Jharana Regmi, a lifelong resident of Daiya, a small village nestled along the riverbank in Budhinanda Municipality-6 of Bajura district. Gaad refers to a river in the local dialect of Bajura and the broader Sudurpashchim region. In this context, she is speaking about the Baadigaad River, which flows along the village’s northern edge before draining into the Karnali River.

Over the past few years, the river has begun to change its course during the monsoon, triggering floods that have severely damaged the riverbanks and canal systems that once reliably irrigated Daiya’s household farms. “This year, the Gaad swept away our two main canals that were crucial for irrigation. Without sufficient water, our fields have turned barren, and all the rice we planted failed,” Regmi adds. The sudden loss of irrigation has led to a complete crop failure, and the village barely harvested any rice this year, leaving families struggling to secure food for the coming winter.

“Earlier, we were self-sufficient in rice. We used to grow several indigenous varieties like Himali and Jawaro (a red rice variety) for both consumption and trade. But now, with the repeated flooding of the riverbanks and canal systems, we can’t even grow enough for ourselves,” says Regmi, her voice heavy with despair.

With both main canal systems damaged at the point where they diverted water from the Baadigaad River, the village now relies on water discharged from a local micro-hydropower plant. This plant, housed within the village, releases water into a canal that provides irrigation only during the night, when the plant operates to generate electricity. Meanwhile, another village, Kaalshila, located uphill and south of Daiya, uses the same water source for irrigation during the day.

“Because the water is only available at night, it’s very inconvenient for us to use it effectively for farming,” Regmi explains. The hydropower plant’s water is sourced from the Baadigaad at a distant point in Kaalshila, further complicating equitable access for Daiya villagers.

Beyond damaging canals, the river has also devastated riparian farmland. Erosion, sand, and debris deposited during floods have rendered many plots uncultivable. The resulting loss of fertile land has severely impacted local livelihoods and food security. With their primary croplands gone, villagers now depend on small vegetable gardens and remote drylands. Some have tried to grow wheat using makeshift canals, but such efforts have done little to ease food insecurity.

Despite repeated damage assessments by the municipality, meaningful relief has yet to reach the village. “We’ve appealed to the municipality several times. Now we just have to wait and see what the government plans for us,” says Regmi.

The global phenomenon behind a local crisis

Intense rainfall over the past two years appears to be the main culprit behind the river’s erratic course changes and frequent flooding. These heavy rains have increased river discharge to record levels and triggered landslides along riverbank slopes, raising the riverbed with deposited debris. As the riverbed aggrades, it causes the river to carve new channels, resulting in unpredictable course shifts and devastating floods.

“Nowadays, we experience heavy rainfall and flooding between June and October, but they can begin as early as April or May,” shares Regmi.

Compounding this natural crisis is weak governance of local natural resources. For instance, the stewardship of the Tushar Community Forest (Tushar Samudaik Baan) in Daiya has deteriorated significantly. “Even though there’s an executive committee for forest management, no serious efforts have been made to protect it,” says Regmi.

The absence of forest guards for the past three years has led to unregulated and illegal extraction of forest products. The lack of enforcement has encouraged excessive harvesting of biomass and even organized timber theft. As a result, many indigenous species, such as Aiselu (Rubus ellipticus) and Tilkhuri (Thysanolaena latifolia), have disappeared. These species once played a vital role in maintaining soil integrity and supporting crop-livestock agriculture.

This ecological degradation has also made the forest slopes more vulnerable to landslides, especially during heavy rains. The cascading impacts are ultimately felt in the geomorphology of the Baadigaad River as it cuts through the weakened forest terrain.

Building a climate-resilient village

Regmi cannot recall any significant community-led efforts to build resilience or minimize the risks facing Daiya. She laments the lack of a dedicated water management committee to maintain and repair damaged canal infrastructure. “We can’t always wait for the government to rehabilitate the canals. We need a local mechanism to organize resources and take responsibility,” she insists.

This, she believes, is where the long-term solution lies.

What Daiya needs is the establishment and strengthening of self-governing institutions dedicated to managing critical local resources, especially water and forests, on which agriculture and livelihoods depend. This could include revitalizing the existing Community Forest User Group (CFUG) to improve forest stewardship and forming a Water Users Group (WUG) tasked with maintaining and rehabilitating irrigation infrastructure.

Theoretical models such as the Institutional Analysis and Development (IAD) framework and Design Principles, developed by Nobel laureate Elinor Ostrom, emphasize the importance of well-crafted self-governing institutions for the sustainability of common-pool resources. Ostrom's design principles highlight the need for clear operational rules, monitoring systems, rule enforcement, and exclusivity of access for resource users.

Such self-governing bodies should also coordinate with external stakeholders—including donor agencies, grassroots organizations, and government extension services—to foster adaptive co-management. A collaborative, systemic approach is essential, given the strong interdependence between water, forests, and agriculture.

In mountain communities like Daiya, where both climatic and human-induced shocks are intensifying, empowering local institutions to govern shared resources offers a promising pathway to resilience. Lessons from other parts of Nepal and beyond demonstrate that community-led governance can significantly improve preparedness, recovery, and sustainability. With the right structures in place, even a troubled river like the Baadigaad can become a source of strength, rather than sorrow, for the people who live by its banks.