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At a neonatal ward in Kathmandu, a doctor studies retinal images from a premature baby. To most people, the images look ordinary. To that doctor, they carry the weight of a lifetime. If early signs of abnormal brain and blood vessel development are missed, the child may grow up with permanent vision loss, learning difficulties, or both. In Nepal, where trained specialists are few and unevenly distributed, such decisions are often made under intense pressure, with limited support and little room for error. This is exactly where artificial intelligence should no longer be treated as a futuristic luxury, but as a public health necessity.

Artificial intelligence is already reshaping how neuroscience is practiced around the world. The real question for Nepal is not whether AI belongs in brain and neurological care, but whether we are willing to adopt it thoughtfully or allow preventable disability to continue simply because systems have not evolved.

At its core, neuroscience is about understanding how the brain develops, adapts, and sometimes fails. Artificial intelligence, on the other hand, is built to recognize patterns in vast and complex information. When these two fields come together, AI does not replace doctors or neuroscientists. Instead, it acts as a powerful assistant, helping humans see patterns that are difficult to detect consistently, especially when time, expertise, or resources are limited. For a country like Nepal, this partnership is not optional. It is strategic, practical, and necessary.

The evidence for this is no longer theoretical. A study published in Ophthalmology Science evaluated a deep learning system used to screen premature infants in Nepal for retinopathy of prematurity. The system performed with near-perfect accuracy, achieving an area-under-the-curve value of 0.999, using retinal imaging devices already available in Nepali hospitals. This was not an experiment in a high-income country with ideal conditions. It was tested in real hospitals, with real patients, and real constraints. The researchers concluded that AI could dramatically expand screening capacity, reduce pressure on scarce specialists, and enable earlier interventions, where delays often cost children in their futures.

This matters because retinopathy of prematurity is not just an eye disease. It reflects disrupted development of the brain’s blood vessels during a critical window of early life. Preventing severe disease is not only about saving vision; it is about protecting long-term neurological development. When artificial intelligence can reliably identify subtle warning signs earlier than the human eye, choosing not to use it becomes more than a missed opportunity. It raises serious ethical concerns.

The stakes extend far beyond neonatal care. Nepal is undergoing a demographic and epidemiological transition. As deaths from infectious diseases decline and life expectancy increases, neurological and mental health conditions are becoming more common. Conditions such as stroke, dementia, epilepsy, depression, and Parkinson’s disease now account for a growing share of disability. Data from the Global Burden of Disease study make this trend clear. Yet neurologists, psychiatrists, and advanced diagnostic facilities remain concentrated in a few urban centers. Expecting this system to meet future demand without technological support is simply unrealistic.

Public health researchers writing in the Nepal Journal of Epidemiology have pointed out that artificial intelligence could help improve diagnosis, predict risk, and guide population-level planning. But they also offer important warnings. If Nepal relies entirely on imported algorithms trained on foreign populations, it risks reinforcing inequity rather than reducing it. Health data reflect genetics, language, culture, and environment. AI tools must be validated locally, governed ethically, and paired with investment in Nepali expertise, not treated as black boxes delivered from abroad.

Encouragingly, Nepali scholars themselves have emphasized this balance. A 2025 article in the Journal of Universal College of Medical Sciences compared artificial intelligence and human brain function from a physiological perspective. Their conclusion was refreshingly grounded. AI is faster and more precise when handling large amounts of data. Humans remain superior in judgment, ethics, emotional understanding, and contextual decision-making. In healthcare, the goal is not competition, but collaboration. Machines should manage repetitive and data-heavy tasks so clinicians can focus on care, compassion, and responsibility.

Still, enthusiasm without caution is dangerous. Generative AI tools are now entering medical education and research, including in Nepal. A 2024 review in the Journal of Institute of Medicine Nepal highlighted both their promise and their risks. Issues such as data privacy, security, and confidently incorrect outputs are real concerns, particularly when dealing with sensitive brain and health information. These tools are powerful, but without training and oversight, they can mislead just as easily as they can assist. This is why education matters as much as technology. Studies on AI adoption in Nepal show that while awareness is increasing, access and digital literacy remain uneven, especially outside major cities. If clinicians are expected to rely on AI tools without understanding their strengths and limitations, the result will be mistrust or misuse.

Nepal now stands at a crossroads. Artificial intelligence in neuroscience is no longer a distant idea discussed only in conferences and journals. It is already helping detect disease earlier, analyze complex brain data, and support clinical decisions in resource-limited settings. The real danger lies not in adopting AI, but in doing so passively, without local data, ethical safeguards, and human oversight. The path forward is clear. Nepal must invest in digital health infrastructure, encourage collaboration between engineers, clinicians, and neuroscientists, and develop national guidelines that place ethics and equity at the center of AI use. Artificial intelligence should be treated as a public good, not a private experiment or a marketing slogan.

Used wisely, AI can help a general doctor in a district hospital recognize a neurological emergency before it is too late. It can help a premature child avoid a lifetime of preventable disability. Choosing not to act is itself a decision, one that disproportionately harms those with the least access to care. The future of neuroscience in Nepal will not be written by machines alone. It will be shaped by whether we choose to use these tools responsibly, locally, and humanely. The technology is ready. The evidence is strong. What remains is the collective will to act.

The author is a PhD candidate in the Department of Neurosciences and Neurological Disorders at the University of Toledo

Climate change in Nepal is no longer a distant risk; it is already triggering disasters that deliver immediate and severe economic shocks. In October 2025, heavy rainfall in Ilam district in eastern Nepal killed 39 people and displaced 711 families. The financial loss was estimated at around Rs 11.81bn, with 365 houses completely destroyed and 940 partially damaged across 10 local levels of the district.

Similarly, a cloudburst between Sept 26 and 28, 2024, triggered floods and landslides across central and eastern Nepal. The event brought the highest recorded rainfall since 1970 and caused an estimated loss of Rs 46.68bn. The damage was extensive: 41 road sections, including the BP Highway, the Prithvi Highway, and other major transport corridors connecting Kathmandu with the rest of the country, were washed away. The disaster also damaged 26 hydropower projects, 446 telecommunication units, 1,678 federal and provincial water supply and sanitation systems, and 44 bridges.

In human terms, the floods and landslides claimed 249 lives, left 18 people missing, and injured 177 others, underscoring the profound human cost of climate-induced disasters. In August 2024, a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) near the Sagarmatha region in Solukhumbu wiped out an entire village, including schools and hospitals.

Earlier, in mid-June 2021, floods and landslides in Melamchi and Helambu of Sindhupalchok district, around 70 km northeast of Kathmandu, inflicted devastating damage. Financial losses amounted to approximately Rs 58.86bn in Melamchi, despite its annual budget being only Rs 1.3bn, and about Rs 27.61bn in Helambu Municipality. These losses alone far exceeded the fiscal capacity of the affected local governments.

The disaster also severely damaged the Melamchi Drinking Water Project, a national pride project, directly affecting roughly three million people in the Kathmandu Valley who rely on it as their primary source of drinking water.

These incidents are not merely “natural calamities” to be treated as isolated events. A collective view clearly shows that they are, instead, climate-induced economic shocks that are likely to occur with increasing frequency.

According to the Climate Risk Index, Nepal ranks 10th globally among countries most affected by past climate-related hazards. This high vulnerability stems from the combined effects of climatic extremes, fragile and diverse geography, weak policy and institutional capacity, and development pathways that lack resilience to shocks. Climate change impacts are widespread across Nepal’s economy, with particularly severe consequences for natural resource–dependent sectors such as agriculture. Climate-related risks also undermine infrastructure, basic service delivery, and public health in both urban and rural areas.

Economic pillars at risk​​​​​​​

The Asian Development Bank estimates that Nepal could lose 2.2 percent of its annual GDP by 2050 due to climate change. This is no longer an issue to be left solely to the Ministry of Forests and Environment. Climate change is now directly affecting inflation, public expenditure, financial stability, and sustainable economic growth. Recent experience has shown that conventional economic systems can no longer withstand the emerging economic threats posed by climate change.

Agriculture contributes around a quarter of Nepal’s GDP, and more than 60 percent of the population depends on it for livelihood. Yet the sector remains highly vulnerable to climate change, as only around 20 percent of farmland has access to year-round irrigation and production is heavily dependent on rainfall.

Nepal’s paddy output is projected to decline in the current fiscal year for the first time in four years due to prolonged drought in Madhes Province, unseasonal rainfall in October last year, and increasing rural-to-urban migration. The World Bank warns that lower domestic paddy production could keep food price inflation elevated and raise the cost of living for low-income households, thereby exacerbating poverty.

Hydroelectricity, the backbone of Nepal’s energy security, is also highly vulnerable to floods, landslides, and silt deposition in hydropower dams. Likewise, Nepal’s highways, bridges, power transmission lines, and irrigation projects are built on fragile land structures, making them increasingly susceptible to climate shocks.

Climate change is also directly affecting tourism, one of Nepal’s largest contributors to GDP and the second-largest employment sector after agriculture. Studies show that climate impacts—rising temperatures, unpredictable rainfall, floods, landslides, loss of snow cover, retreating snowlines, and changes in river discharge and water quality—directly disrupt trekking and hiking activities. As Nepal is primarily known for nature-based tourism, these changes directly affect public revenue and private investment in the sector.

Climate-induced shocks have immediate and visible economic impacts. Floods destroy crops, driving up food prices and fueling inflation. Landslides wash away highways, disrupting supply chains and sharply increasing transportation costs. Damage to hydropower plants reduces electricity generation, leading to higher energy imports and widening trade deficits. At the same time, rising expenditure on disaster response diverts public funds away from education, health, and other productive sectors.

These impacts are not one-off events; they represent recurring supply-side shocks that repeatedly undermine economic stability and long-term development. As the International Monetary Fund notes, “Climate change is not just an environmental issue; it is a macroeconomic and financial stability challenge.”

Nepal, however, is not alone. More than 1,800 people across Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and Sri Lanka lost their lives to extreme flooding during November and December 2025. The damage was estimated at around $25bn, severely affecting food markets and regional trade. In the United States, wildfires in California forced insurance companies to withdraw coverage, with total losses estimated at around $250bn.

Fiscal burden of reconstruction vs prevention 

Extreme environmental changes are no longer exceptions; they are steadily becoming a dominant economic force. The costs are especially high for a country like Nepal, where public financing is limited. While public finance systems are meant to manage risk and support growth, Nepal’s fiscal policy still treats climate change as an exception rather than a structural risk.

Each year, billions of rupees are spent on post-disaster rescue, relief, rehabilitation, and reconstruction—often financed through budget cuts in other sectors or increased borrowing. Between 2012 and 2020, for example, the government spent an average of Rs 50bn annually on disaster response.

Over time, this pattern contributes to fiscal deficits and reduced development expenditure. Climate change also lowers the productivity of public investments. Washed-out highways during the monsoon, hydropower losses due to siltation, and damaged irrigation channels illustrate how environmental shocks can render public investments inefficient.

The economics of climate change sends a clear message: prevention is far more cost-effective than reconstruction. Investing in flood control, slope stabilisation, early warning systems, and climate-resilient infrastructure reduces future government expenditure on recovery and rebuilding. Fiscal policies that overlook climate risks are not just short-sighted—they are unsafe.

Financial risk 

Climate change also poses growing challenges for monetary policy. In Nepal, floods, landslides, and droughts reduce food production and supply, driving inflation. These shocks are not temporary; treating them as cyclical risks undermines monetary policy effectiveness.

Climate change is a silent predator within the financial system. Banks and financial institutions hold significant exposure to agriculture, hydropower, construction, and infrastructure—priority lending sectors that are also the most vulnerable to climate risks. When these sectors are hit, loan recovery weakens and non-performing assets rise. While the central bank cannot prevent floods, it can safeguard financial stability through measures such as climate stress testing, disclosure requirements, and prudent regulation. Treating climate risk as separate from monetary policy is a vulnerability, not neutrality.

Ignoring climate risks in economic policy creates hidden liabilities, including unforeseen public debt and stranded assets. Infrastructure built without climate considerations often loses its expected lifespan, leaving taxpayers to bear reconstruction costs. Similarly, investments that fail to account for climate risk may not deliver expected returns, exposing banks and insurers to losses.

Poor financial management in the face of climate change risks turning today’s savings and investments into tomorrow’s losses.

Government’s efforts for climate finance 

Nepal has made some progress toward a climate-resilient economy. The Nepal Infrastructure Development Bank (NIFRA) recently issued the country’s first green bond worth Rs 5bn, signalling the potential for climate-friendly infrastructure financed through domestic sources.

The government has also introduced the Carbon Trading Regulation, 2025, opening avenues for revenue generation through forest conservation and carbon sequestration. The Nepal Green Financial Taxonomy 2024 has been published to guide the classification of green economic activities, while the Environmental and Social Risk Management (ESRM) framework has been in place since 2018 for credit appraisal. These are encouraging developments.

However, these initiatives remain insufficient. Green finance is still disconnected from core fiscal and monetary policies. The NIFRA green bond is limited in scale, carbon trading faces uncertainties around pricing, certification, institutional capacity, and market access, and green classifications do not yet meaningfully influence bank lending, budget priorities, or public investment decisions.

In effect, green finance remains a “project” rather than a “system.” Without alignment across fiscal policy, monetary policy, and financial regulation, these initiatives remain fragmented and largely symbolic. Climate change, meanwhile, continues to embed itself in Nepal’s budget, inflation dynamics, and bank balance sheets.

Way forward 

The question for policymakers is no longer what to do, but how to unify efforts. The Ministry of Finance must adopt a climate-sensitive budget that prioritises resilient infrastructure, integrates green bonds and carbon trading, aligns tax policy with climate goals, and coordinates public investment decisions.

The central bank and financial regulators should incorporate climate risks into inflation management and financial stability frameworks, conduct climate stress tests, and incentivise credit flows toward climate-resilient and sustainable projects. Climate change is not separate from the economy—it is now a driver of economic instability.

Floods, landslides, and melting snowcapped mountains are not just environmental symbols; they are warnings for inflation, financial stability, and public finances. If climate risks remain isolated from economic policymaking, they will translate into higher public debt, weaker financial systems, and constrained development—costs future generations will bear.

Climate-resilient infrastructure, climate-friendly investments, and responsible financial regulation can gradually reduce losses and guide Nepal toward sustainable growth. Nepal’s message must be clear: economic policies designed for yesterday’s climate can no longer secure tomorrow’s growth.

When people hear the words “muscle” or “strength training”,  many still picture a muscular man lifting heavy weights, flexing his biceps with a protein shake in hand—an image often linked to aesthetics, or elite athleticism. For decades, this narrow perception has shaped how we think about muscle and fitness, and it is one many of us grew up believing. It has also allowed a persistent myth to take hold: that strength training will cause women to “bulk up”.

In reality, this belief is misleading. Building significant muscle requires sustained effort, specific training and time. It does not happen easily or by accident. More importantly, this misconception has distracted attention from the far more important truth: muscle is not just about appearance, performance or gender stereotypes. Maintaining healthy muscle mass—regardless of gender—is essential for overall well-being, longevity, and quality of life. Muscle plays a central role in metabolism and is increasingly recognized as a key factor in disease prevention. 

Research shows that greater muscle mass is associated with a lower risk of chronic diseases such as Type 2 diabetes, as muscle helps regulate blood sugar by absorbing glucose and improving insulin sensitivity. Muscle strength also supports cardiovascular health by improving circulation and helping regulate blood pressure. Emerging evidence further links muscle health to brain function, emotional well-being, and lifespan, with stronger individuals tending to live longer, healthier lives.

But sadly, muscle mass does not remain constant across the lifespan. Studies show that adults begin to lose muscle as early as age 30, at a rate of approximately 1–2 percent per year, or 3–8 percent per decade, a process known as sarcopenia. This gradual loss contributes to a slowing metabolism over time. Because muscle is metabolically active tissue that requires energy even at rest, declining muscle mass reduces resting metabolic rate, making weight maintenance and fat loss more difficult with age. As muscle loss progresses, it can lead to reduced strength and mobility, increased metabolic risk, and functional decline. After age 60, this process often accelerates, increasing the risk of injury and threatening long-term independence.

The good news is that muscle loss is not inevitable. Building and maintaining muscle at any age requires a combination of regular physical activity, balanced nutrition, and adequate recovery. Resistance training remains the most effective strategy—whether through weightlifting, or bodyweight movements that target major muscle groups. Nutrition plays an equally important role. Adequate protein intake supports muscle repair and growth and can come from a variety of sources, including lean meats, fish, eggs, dairy, legumes, and plant-based options such as tofu and tempeh. 

Overall dietary balance matters as well, as healthy fats, complex carbohydrates, and key nutrients such as vitamin D, calcium, and magnesium, support muscle function and bone health. Beyond structured workouts, regular daily movement such as walking, climbing stairs, and recreational activities, helps preserve muscle mass and supports cardiovascular fitness. Sufficient rest is also essential, as muscles repair and grow during sleep, making 7–9 hours of quality sleep per night a crucial part of long-term muscle health.

Muscle mass is more than a fitness goal—it is the foundation of health and resilience. Preserving muscle supports metabolism, reduces the risk of chronic disease, and helps maintain physical and mental independence across the lifespan. Through strength training, balanced nutrition, and consistent movement, muscle can be maintained well into older age, supporting a healthier and more active life.

It is time to move past outdated stereotypes and dismantle the misconception that strength belongs to men. Muscle health is not a trend or an aesthetic choice- it is a lifelong priority for everyone.

That feeling—the feeling of true hospitality— does not come from polished marble or perfect procedures. It comes from hearts that care. Luxury may dazzle the eyes, but only care touches the soul. True hospitality is felt where people serve with warmth, attention, and genuine love.

In an age where hospitality is often measured by thread count, architectural brilliance, and flawless systems, we sometimes forget the most important element of all—the human heart. Hotels rise taller, lobbies grow grander, and technology becomes smarter. Despite all this progress, guests remember something far simpler and far more powerful: how they were made to feel.

A guest may admire a sparkling chandelier or a perfectly laid table, but what stays with them long after checkout is a smile that felt sincere, a listening ear after a tiring journey, or a quiet gesture of care when it was least expected. These moments cannot be manufactured. They are born from empathy, intention, and genuine human connection.

True hospitality begins the moment a guest feels seen not as a room number or a reservation, but as a person. It is in the way a front desk associate notices fatigue in a traveler’s eyes and speeds up the process with kindness. It is in how a housekeeper leaves a small handwritten note wishing a guest a peaceful day. It is in the restaurant staff who remember a guest’s preference without being reminded. These are not part of standard operating procedures; they are acts of the heart.

Luxury, in its truest sense, is not about excess it is about thoughtfulness. A glass of water offered without being asked, a warm greeting spoken with eye contact, or a gentle follow-up call just to ensure comfort these gestures cost nothing, yet their value is immeasurable. They create trust. They create belonging. They create memories.

In Nepal, the concept of hospitality has always been deeply rooted in culture. Atithi Devo Bhava—the guest is God—is not just a saying; it is a way of life. Long before hospitality became an industry, it was a tradition practiced in homes and villages across the country. Food was shared, stories were exchanged, and guests were welcomed with open hearts, not expectations. When this spirit is carried into modern hospitality, it becomes truly powerful.

However, as the industry grows more competitive, there is a risk of losing this essence. Checklists replace conversations. Speed replaces sincerity. Standards replace sensitivity. While systems are necessary, they should never overpower the soul of service. A perfectly trained team without compassion can feel cold, while a simple service delivered with warmth can feel luxurious beyond measure.

Guests today are not just travelers; they are seekers of experiences. They seek comfort, yes but also connection. They want to feel safe, understood, and respected. In moments of joy or vulnerability, it is often the hospitality professional who becomes a silent companion. A delayed flight, a missed connection, a personal loss during such times, a kind word or patient presence can make all the difference.

For those who work in hospitality, this profession is more than a job. It is an opportunity to touch lives, even if only briefly. Every interaction holds the potential to heal tired minds, uplift heavy hearts, and create smiles that last beyond the stay. This responsibility is both humbling and powerful.

True hospitality does not demand perfection; it demands presence. It asks us to slow down, to notice, and to care. It asks leaders to nurture teams with empathy so that care flows naturally to guests. When employees feel valued and respected, they serve not out of obligation, but out of pride and love.

As hotels continue to evolve, let us remember that no amount of marble can replace kindness, and no procedure can substitute compassion. Buildings may impress, but people inspire. Brands may attract, but hearts retain.

In the end, guests may forget the room size or the décor, but they will never forget how they were treated. Because luxury may dazzle the eyes, but only care touches the soul and that is where true hospitality lives.

And so, beyond the marble floors and measured metrics, beyond the stars and standards, hospitality quietly returns to where it has always belonged: the human heart. When the lights dim and the day ends, what truly matters is not how grand the space looked, but how gently someone was treated within it.

Every guest who walks through a door carries a story—some filled with joy, others with worry, exhaustion, or hope. We may never know those stories fully, but we are entrusted with a moment in them. And in that moment, we have a choice: to simply serve, or to truly care. When we choose care, even the smallest interaction becomes meaningful.

This is the quiet power of hospitality. It does not seek applause. It does not demand recognition. Yet its impact lingers long after keys are returned and doors closed. A warm farewell, an honest smile, a moment of understanding these travel farther than any destination.

Let us, therefore, build not just hotels, but emotions. Let us train hands, yes but also nurture hearts. Because when service comes from the soul, guests do not just leave satisfied; they leave touched. And that is the kind of luxury that never fades.