Bio-engineering for slope stabilization in Nepal
Soil erosion and slope instability have long been major challenges in Nepal. The country’s steep topography, intense rainfall, and fragile geological conditions contribute to frequent landslides, erosion, debris flows, rockfalls, riverbank cutting, and slope failures. Human activities within the natural environment have further aggravated these problems, often triggering mass movements that lead to slope instability. As a result, Nepal has suffered significant losses of life, property, and infrastructure, particularly roads and bridges.
The natural ground gradually loses its initial strength and becomes unstable due to both natural and human-induced activities. Natural processes include landslides, mass movement, soil erosion, and the slow weathering of rocks. Human-induced activities include blasting in surrounding areas; construction of roads, dams, and high-rise structures that generate ground vibrations; haphazard cut-and-fill operations on otherwise stable ground; and the addition of excessive loads on soil masses. From a soil protection perspective, civil engineering structures are often constructed to protect unstable soil from weathering. However, building such structures is not always feasible or cost-effective.
As an alternative or complementary approach, living plants are systematically planted using standard methods to gradually improve soil strength over time—either alongside or independent of civil engineering structures. This approach is known as bio-engineering. Large-scale civil engineering solutions are often expensive and sometimes socially unacceptable. Bio-engineering, as a low-cost slope stabilization technique, offers an efficient alternative for controlling shallow-seated slope failures. In Nepal, which has active geomorphology, steep mountain slopes, intense rainfall, and limited economic resources, bio-engineering plays a particularly important role and should be more widely adopted.
Bio-engineering refers to the partial or complete use of living vegetation, with or without civil engineering structures, to stabilize soil in its natural setting. The proportion of vegetation to civil structures depends on site-specific conditions and engineering requirements. The core principle of bio-engineering is to provide initial support through civil structures, where necessary, while allowing vegetation to progressively strengthen the soil mass. Over time, as vegetation matures, the contribution of civil engineering structures becomes minimal, with the overall stability largely maintained by plant root systems.
It must be emphasized that bio-engineering cannot entirely replace civil engineering structures in terms of strength, economy, or durability. Instead, bio-engineering requires appropriate support from civil structures depending on site conditions. However, bio-engineering is more flexible, environmentally adaptable, and resilient to variable loads than rigid civil structures. It is therefore particularly effective for small-scale sediment control on steep slopes, habitat restoration projects, and landslide mitigation in seismic regions. Studies have shown that vetiver grass is one of the most effective bio-engineering plants when compared to other vegetation types. This article focuses on the valuable bio-engineering plant known as vetiver grass.
Nepal’s first application of bio-engineering dates back to 1980 during the Dharan–Dhankuta road project, where it was used to protect roadside slopes.
Typical bio-engineering applications in Nepal include soil bio-engineering at Krishna Bhir, bio-terracing along roadsides, bio-engineering measures along the Dipayal–Mellekh road, roadside bio-engineering on the Muglin–Narayanghat road, the Dhangadi–Dadeldhura section, and slopes in Dhankuta, among others.
Vetiver grass is an inexpensive, fast-growing, and highly versatile plant capable of withstanding a wide range of environmental conditions. Since the 1980s, the World Bank has promoted vetiver grass for preventing landslides and soil erosion through slope stabilization. As a vegetation-based system, vetiver is environmentally beneficial from the outset. Its exceptionally long and dense root system reinforces soil and makes it highly resistant to erosion caused by high-velocity water flow. The deep and rapidly developing roots also provide excellent drought tolerance, making vetiver suitable for stabilizing steep slopes.
Vetiver can withstand extreme weather conditions, including prolonged droughts, flooding, submergence, and temperature variations ranging from –14°C to 55°C. It also shows high tolerance to soil acidity, salinity, and acid sulfate conditions, outperforming many conventional vegetation types. Moreover, vetiver can regenerate once adverse conditions are removed.
Vetiver is widely used to consolidate cut slopes, primarily by reducing erosion caused by surface runoff that would otherwise damage downslope areas. It effectively prevents shallow surface failures, thereby reducing the likelihood of deeper slope failures. Even in rare cases where deep failures occur, vetiver helps reduce the volume and velocity of sliding material. Additionally, it preserves the natural and aesthetic character of road corridors.
In Nepal, bio-engineering has long been practiced for erosion control along riverbanks, unstable retaining structures, sloping terrain, road batters, and agricultural land protection. Native species such as bamboo, kans (wild sugarcane), kush (halfa grass), amriso (broom grass), and khayar (black catechu), often combined with non-living materials like wood and stone, have traditionally been used. However, due to limited scientific understanding of bio-engineering principles and applications, its use in infrastructure development remained limited until conventional civil engineering structures proved inadequate.
Vetiver systems can also be effectively combined with conventional structural measures such as retaining walls, rock protection, and concrete riprap. For example, vetiver hedgerows may protect the upper portion of a slope while civil engineering structures reinforce the lower section. Key characteristics—such as tolerance to temperature extremes, rapid root growth, deep anchorage, low cost, longevity, high survival rate, and minimal maintenance—make vetiver one of the most successful bio-engineering plants in comparative assessments.
Comparative studies consistently show vetiver to be superior to many other bio-engineered vegetation types. Its suitability for steep slopes highlights its strong potential for application along hill roads in Nepal. In conclusion, multiple studies demonstrate that the use of vetiver grass on slopes has significantly enhanced bio-engineering practices in Nepal and holds great promise for future slope stabilization efforts.
Normalizing risky play: Keeping childhood as safe as needed, not as safe as possible
Let’s admit it. As parents and educators, we spend a lot of time worrying about children’s safety. Every scrape, fall, or bump feels like a risk to be managed. And yet, those very experiences are often the ones that teach children courage, judgment, and resilience. Risky play is not reckless. It is thrilling and exciting, engaging children with uncertainty and challenge while allowing them to test their limits and learn from minor failures.
During my years as an educator, and in my interactions with parents and fellow educators, I have found that most adults trace their happiest childhood memories not to a worksheet or a screen, but to moments of play, often outdoors, that carry a hint of danger. Climbing trees without knowing how high was too high. Racing bicycles down uneven roads. Exploring the long way to a friend’s house, heart pounding with both excitement and uncertainty. These moments were thrilling not because they were reckless, but because they demanded judgment, courage, and trust in oneself.
This type of play once formed a natural part of childhood. Today, those experiences are quietly disappearing from children’s lives. Across the 1980s and 1990s, a global cultural shift moved parenting toward curating a childhood that has become increasingly supervised, structured, and risk-averse.
The shift did not happen without reason. Traffic increased. Urban spaces changed. Parental anxiety rose alongside social and legal pressures. Notably, what has changed is not only how much freedom children have, but also how adults interpret injury itself. A scraped knee, a fall, or a bump was once seen as an expected part of growing up. Today, the same incident is often viewed as a failure of supervision or care. Injury, even minor, is increasingly unacceptable. Risk is equated with danger, and danger is expected to be eliminated.
Yet risk and hazard are not the same. A hazard is something a child cannot reasonably see or assess. Risk, by contrast, is visible and negotiable. It allows children to make judgments, feel fear, adjust behavior, and learn limits. Removing all risk in the name of safety removes the opportunity for children to develop the very skills that help them stay safe.
In Nepal, as in many other contexts, parents are increasingly fear-driven, hyper-cautious, and intolerant of accidents, particularly in the care of someone other than themselves. Schools, responding to this fear, are pushed to design environments that are “risk-proof.” Yet in making childhood safer, we may be stripping it of something essential.
Risky play is thrilling and exciting, involving uncertainty and the possibility of manageable dangers. It includes climbing to heights, moving at speed and impacts, rough-and-tumble play, exploring spaces where children might get temporarily lost, using tools considered dangerous, interacting with elements like water or fire under supervision, taking chances in unfamiliar situations, and even watching other children take risks. This last form, called vicarious risky play, lets more cautious children engage cognitively with risk without direct participation.
A growing body of research shows that risky play supports the development of executive function, emotional regulation, risk assessment, and resilience. Studies led by researchers such as Ellen Beate Sandseter in Norway and Mariana Brussoni in Canada have found that children who engage in risky play show lower levels of anxiety, better ability to manage fear, and stronger problem-solving skills. Large-scale reviews indicate that while risky play may result in minor injuries like scrapes or bruises, it does not increase the likelihood of serious injury.
In fact, the opposite may be true. Children who are denied opportunities to assess and manage risk early often lack the skills to do so later. Risk competence is built gradually, through repeated exposure to uncertainty, decision-making, and recovery from mistakes. Risky play also fosters emotional growth. When children test their limits, feel fear, and then realize they can cope, they build resilience. They learn that discomfort is temporary and manageable. These lessons are foundational for mental health.
This is especially relevant today, as rates of childhood anxiety and emotional distress continue to rise globally. Research suggests that avoiding risk may actually increase fear, as children never develop the confidence that comes from facing and overcoming challenges. Risky play offers children a safe space to practice handling uncertainty, something life will inevitably demand of them. We must allow children to experience uncertainty, not because it is comfortable for us, but because it is essential for them.
The question is no longer whether risky play is beneficial. Research has answered that. The question is whether parents and educators are willing to confront their fears and trust children’s own capacity and appetite for challenges to guide the risks they take. Implementing risky play is not simple, especially in school settings. One accident, even a minor one, can quickly lead to questions of blame or legal complications. Under such pressure, the instinct to remove all risk feels logical. I have personally established and run a school for almost two decades, and even as an educator who understands the importance of risky play, I struggle with confidence in integrating it. This tension is real, and it cannot be ignored.
Childhood was never meant to be perfectly safe. It was meant to be deeply formative. The goal is to keep it as safe as needed, not as safe as possible. So, I leave you with a question: can we create a culture, at home and in schools, that values children’s ability to navigate uncertainty, while still protecting them from genuine hazards? Can we truly normalize risky play and allow children to grow through the very challenges we often fear?
Understanding PCOS: A growing health concern beyond fertility
Many people may have heard the term PCOS, which stands for Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, although its exact cause is still not fully understood. Today, PCOS is recognized as the most common hormonal and metabolic disorder affecting women of reproductive age, impacting 6-20 percent of women worldwide. PCOS is mainly characterized by high levels of male hormone (androgens) in women, irregular or absent ovulation, and the presence of multiple small cysts in the ovaries, which can be detected through ultrasound.
Originally described in 1935 as Stein-Leventhal Syndrome, PCOS was once viewed only as a reproductive problem, causing missed periods, irregular menstruation, and difficulty in becoming pregnant. However, decades of research have revealed that PCOS affects far more than fertility. It is now known to be a serious whole-body condition, closely linked to weight gain, abdominal obesity, high blood pressure, abnormal cholesterol levels, insulin resistance, and chronic low-grade inflammation—all of which significantly increase the risk of diabetes and heart disease.
The most widely used diagnostic method for PCOS is the Rotterdam criteria, which requires the presence of at least two of the following: excess male hormones, irregular ovulation, and polycystic ovaries.
In Nepal, limited studies indicate that about 5-7 percent of women aged 20-30 are diagnosed with PCOS during medical checkups, while data on other age groups remain scarce. Unfortunately, public awareness of the condition is still very low, and access to reliable diagnostic services is limited. As a result, many women are diagnosed only when they seek medical help for infertility. Once pregnancy is achieved, follow-up care often ends, even though the health risks associated with PCOS continue throughout a woman’s life.
What is most concerning is that long-term exposure to high androgen levels in women with PCOS can lead to serious metabolic health problems over time. Emerging research also suggests that these effects may even influence the health of children born to mothers with PCOS, highlighting the need for further studies.
PCOS is therefore not just a fertility issue; it is a lifelong health condition that requires early diagnosis, continuous care, and greater public awareness to protect the long-term health of women and future generations.
Trivialization of academic research
Quality education is widely regarded as the backbone of a country’s development. Statistics show that nations that are successful, strong, progressive, and exemplary consistently maintain very high standards of education. Our government, too, has allocated a comparatively significant share of the national budget (around 11 percent) to this sector. It is often cited that Japan invested nearly 49 percent of its budget in education for several years following the Second World War. In India, Jagdish Gandhi introduced the concept of the Quality Circle into the academic ecosystem with the expectation of an overarching, education-induced transformation. One of the key indicators for measuring the quality of education is research. This argument is also advanced in the special issue publication Chetanako Muhan (2080), published by the Shreekant Adhikari Foundation. Yet today, research activities seem to be drifting away from their mission and turning increasingly into a mockery.
A few months ago, a distinguished speaker invited to a regional program proudly claimed, “I did research for half an hour today and discovered a few things.” As a presenter at the same program, this contributor found it difficult to comprehend whether research is something that can truly be completed in half an hour. On another occasion, a person with an academic identity uploaded a photograph on Facebook of himself on his mobile phone, and captioned it, “Doing some serious research.” Has research now been reduced to ‘mobile work’? Does merely knowing how to use Facebook qualify one as a researcher? Such questions persist.
Sometime later, this contributor received an email from a PhD researcher who had sent a questionnaire to measure patients’ perceptions of private hospitals. Despite visiting hospitals only to care for others, express goodwill, or attend meetings, the contributor has rarely been a patient in a private hospital for at least the past 15 years. Upon being informed of this, the sender casually replied, “No problem, just choose whatever option seems good and tick it.” These are only representative incidents, but taken together they clearly reveal how a dense and serious subject like research is being dangerously trivialized.
Research is a strong foundation and an essential pillar of academic life. Anyone completing a master’s degree is required to conduct at least one research project, which is often their first formal exposure to research. How far they pursue it thereafter depends on their sustained interest and commitment. Those who cannot fight should not join the army; those who cannot argue should not study law; those who cannot generate profit should not enter commerce; and those who cannot conduct research should think carefully before entering academia. Yet in recent times, distortions appear to be expanding far more rapidly than purity in academic research.
It is both pathetic and painful that thousands of identical research works under the same title circulate in academic circles. Research outputs lacking rigorous study and genuine effort—prepared and even home-delivered theses—are becoming increasingly common. At times, dissertations by unmarried researchers include acknowledgements thanking “my husband” or “my wife,” mistakenly referring to a friend’s spouse. Some pages read, “I am deeply grateful to my supervisor for continuous support, advice, suggestions, and tireless encouragement throughout the study,” even though the supervisor may never have met the student even once. Should one laugh or cry?
There is also a growing misconception that research must be based strictly on primary data. Many insist that “expert opinion doesn’t count, but respondents do.” Thick data requirements, non-numerical support, and deep interpretation are bluntly dismissed. Furthermore, the validity, participation, and honesty of respondents are rarely verified. Questionnaire-based studies often collect opinions rather than factual data. Research is not an election where whatever the majority says becomes truth. If the goal is to gather opinions, the choice of respondents should depend on whether the topic demands the views of the general public or of experts. For instance, if one is researching the usefulness of a political or electoral system, can conclusions be drawn merely by surveying random people on the street? Or is it more logical to sit in a library, study expert literature, examine prior research, and compare practices across countries?
Pushparaj Joshi’s book Research Methodology argues that comparative and analytical desk-based study must occupy a larger space in contemporary research. Nonetheless, the University Grants Commission and universities remain hesitant to recognize desk studies as legitimate research. The UGC tends to value time spent running around fields collecting data as grant-worthy, while time invested in dense comparative analysis grounded in core literature is largely disregarded.
Regardless of the method, once research is completed, publication is desirable. So-called “high-ranked” foreign journals demand exorbitant fees while offering prestige through labels such as Q1 to Q4 and Scopus indexing. At the same time, journals seeking modest collaboration or regional partnerships are branded as “predatory.” As many university research projects are donor-driven, assessment standards have become increasingly distorted. Commercial considerations now overshadow scholarly collaboration, turning publication into a transactional rather than intellectual exercise.
Recent data show that only seven medical science journals from our country are listed in these self-proclaimed, dollar-fee-driven rankings. No journals from other disciplines are included. In the social sciences, publication criteria appear heavily biased toward Western preconceptions and colonial narcissism. To secure space, publications must shape conclusions to fit Eurocentric narratives of supremacy—alongside paying hefty processing or publication fees.
How long will our universities continue to apply foreign and biased standards to evaluate local academic work? When will we break the illusion that “foreign” automatically means “international”? Is something international because of borders, or because of standards? The irony is that even the publications of our own universities and the University Grants Commission are excluded from these inflated and questionable rankings.
There is also no shortage of “scholars” who possess negligible and nondescript publications of their own but are experts at offering heavy-handed advice to others. Another troubling aspect is the contradictory feedback given by evaluators. Many internal and external examiners speak superficially and in violation of basic research principles. This contributor has frequently witnessed reviewers contradicting their own earlier advice. Some say, “It’s not correct,” yet fail to explain what is wrong or how it can be corrected. Such distortions damage the very core of research.
Recently, a friend who claimed to have strong research skills bragged, “You don’t need to work hard anymore. Just give clear prompts or bullet points to ChatGPT, and it will instantly prepare a research article. Then you can submit it wherever you want.” Such remarks instantly dim whatever little enthusiasm and commitment remain. Due to the negligence of both researchers and regulatory bodies, genuine dedication to research is steadily being discouraged. Research was once an extraordinary and sacred mission. Today, it has been reduced to a cheap joke.
