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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?

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.

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.

These days, two questions are so prominent regarding the socio economic development of Nepal. First, how can the good policies practiced by various successful countries be implemented to strengthen the internal economy? And second is why the development efforts failed to attract youth in the mainstream? To find the answers, we need to identify the way of achieving fruitful results according to the new generation’s desires. In the context, about the status of socio-economic development, currently, we can find three types of opinions. 

The first view claims that the country has made significant progress from a socio-economic perspective. The second logic is negative that denies the first view.  This logic did not see any adequate space for the future development of youth and the coming generation. The third view is mixed; and it compares the economic and social progress between past and present period and argues that some results have been achieved but it is not enough in comparison to other countries including neighbors; not enough as the demand and desire of the conscious people including new generation. This view is more realistic and fair since it shows the picture of yesterday's work, progress, and results as well as shortcomings and inadequacies of the past period. Therefore, to draw concrete conclusions, it will be better to divide Nepal’s development into different time periods.

Until 1956, the length of motorable roads in the urban areas of Nepal, basically in Kathmandu, Birgunj, and Biratnagar was 500 kilometers, out of that only half could be used throughout the year. There were two railways, Raxaul-Amlekhgunj and Jayanagar-Bijalpura, 130 kilometers long in aggregate. A ropeway of 67 kilometers was in operation from Bhimphedi to Kathmandu. There were two small canals named Chandranahar (Saptari) and Juddhanahar (Sarlahi) for irrigation purposes built by the government. Total hydro electricity generated was 3100 KW. In terms of health, there was Bir Hospital and Naradevi Ayurveda Hospital only. At that time, there were only four dozen high level educational institutions including Durbar High School and Trichandra College. The number of primary schools was near about four hundred. The literacy rate was below five percent. 

Even until the mid-decade of 1963, the development of physical infrastructures was less than a dozen. At the national level, the Tribhuvan Highway, Arani Highway, Prithvi and Siddhartha Highways were in operation but Raxaul-Amleshgunj railway was already closed. There was no electricity except in cities such as Kathmandu, Birgunj, Biratnagar and Bhairahawa. Until the 1970s too, Indian land had to be used to reach many parts of Nepal. By 1990 too, the length of the road, irrigated area of land and power generation capacity were 7,000 kilometers, 493,000 hectares and 238 MW respectively. The total number of schools was 2,1826 and the health institutions reached 1,100. During this period, the literacy rate reached 30 percent and the average age reached 55 years.

By the middle of July 2024, the length of the road reached 36,000 kilometers, the area of irrigated land was registered to 1.6m hectares and the renewable energy (electricity) capacity had increased by 14 times and recorded to 3,336 MW. In terms of social infrastructure, the number of schools and health institutions are 35,447 and 8,746 respectively. Now, the literacy rate is 77 percent and the average life expectancy rate is 71 years. The number of people below the poverty line has decreased to 20 percent, which was 49 percent in 1990. However, this poverty rate is the highest among South Asian countries. 

In this way, during the three and a half decades after 1990, in terms of numbers, Nepal has made significant progress in the areas of physical and social infrastructures but the achievement is not satisfactory in terms of quality and adequacy. Because of the total roads in terms of transportation, the percentage of black and gravel roads is 23 and 24 respectively; remaining is unpaved, which can only be used by vehicles for a few months. From a safety point of view too, the condition of the roads is poor. On the other hand, large vehicles carrying goods or passengers to Kathmandu from the eastern part of Chitwan have to travel an unnecessary distance of about 200 kilometers. The additional economic burden or cost created by this has adversely affected the competitiveness of the entire country and made daily life expensive. There is no significant progress in railways; ropeways are closed. Cable cars built by the private sector are used only for tourism purposes; those are not suitable for daily and business life. More than a dozen national pride and transformational projects are incomplete; the cost is increasing every year. Some projects that were supposed to be completed in five years have not been completed for 15 years, the initially estimated cost has not only doubled but also increased by six times. The achievements mentioned above, in comparison to today’s needs and standard of developed countries, it is clear that we are lagging behind. The per capita income in 1990 was $186, in 2024 this figure increased eightfold to $1517, but due to rapid depreciation of the Nepalese currency against the US dollar it could not strengthen the purchasing power of the people. In terms of region, the per capita income of Bagmati Province was $2,600, while that of Madhes Province was limited to $932, which is less than that of Karnali. This gap has increased dissatisfaction in people.

Comparing neighboring countries, according to the World Bank, Nepal’s per capita annual income is $1,500, while the average per capita income of South Asia is $2,700. The per capita income of the Maldives is almost nine times higher than Nepal’s income. Bhutan’s figure is $3,900, while India’s income is at the average level of South Asia. Bangladesh and Sri Lanka’s income is $2,600 and $4,500, respectively, Nepal is at the bottom. All these matters may have made the people frustrated. 

Against this backdrop, in order to drive the economy in line with the existing consciousness of the society and to move it in the right direction, on the one hand, it is necessary to change the constitution radically and on the other hand, drastic change in governance, systems, processes and procedures keeping the goal of optimal use of resources through good governance and effective management. In fact, the constitution is expansionary, because it increases the cost of state operation and demands a lot of financial resources rather than yielding resources. 

The issue of self-reliance should be taken in mind; because, the development of technology has dismantled the foundation of a self-reliance of the global economy. Nepal’s current economy is like a dependent one, it would be practical to make it interdependent; since currently, and building a self-reliant economy is just ideal thought where a country fulfills all the economic, social, and structural needs of its citizens through its own production and management without relying on foreign trade, aid, or investment. 

In today’s era, the economy cannot be completely self-reliant. China, USA, Japan, and Singapore are also not completely self-reliant. It is practical for Nepal to think of becoming self-reliant in food and electricity sector-wise. So, it is the right time to be proactive to overcome internal contradictions, conflicts, and inefficiencies and work to establish strong interconnections between Nepal’s economy and the global economy. This needs a multifaceted effort.