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Top Nepali government officials, including the deputy prime minister and the foreign minister, are unhappy with India. They have a problem with India’s ‘underhand approach’ in dealing with India-based Nepali migrant workers now headed for Nepal. When India is under an official lockdown, and all long-distance travel has been forbidden, why is it allowing thousands of Nepali migrants to travel to the Indo-Nepal border? This reminds many Nepali officials of the refugee crisis back in the 1990s, when India gave a safe passage into Nepal to 100,000 Nepali-speaking Bhutanese nationals.

Yet there is a fundamental difference in the Bhutanese refugee crisis and what is happening right now. India undoubtedly played a dubious role in the refugee crisis. Given its vast sway over the Bhutanese government, it could have put pressure on Thimpu to stop ethnic violence against the Nepali-speaking Lhotshampas and to adjust them peacefully. It didn’t. Right now, it is the case of Nepali citizens wanting to come back to their country, which they have every right to do. It is also hard to accuse the Indian government of bad intent when India is itself struggling to stop the massive movements of people inside its own borders.

The traditionally checkered relations between India and Nepal, and especially the 2015-16 blockade, makes Nepalis deeply mistrust New Delhi. As Kathmandu has of late enhanced its ties with Beijing, the government in Nepal has also been rather bold in its anti-India proclamations. Yet, at its root, what the recent problem between India and Nepal highlights is the depth in their relations, which may have both positive as well as negative consequences.

India is very familiar to most Nepalis, which makes them think they understand the country: its strengths, its weaknesses, and its compulsions. We may not all like the Indians, but familiarity builds a level of trust. It is hard for us to similarly view the Chinese whose ways of life can seem alien. Incidents like the supply of substandard anti-corona kits further tarnishes China’s image here. Could the Chinese government have ensured only the best kits were sent to Nepal? Perhaps.

I don’t think China had a malicious intent, though. More likely, there was a gap in communication between the two sides, something that has long been a salient feature of Nepal-China relations. The Nepali side says it wants something, the Chinese think the Nepalis are asking for something else, and the outcome is a disaster. Only in few years have there been real efforts to understand the Chinese—and trust is not something you can build overnight.  

When the corona pandemic is over, there is likely to be considerable global backlash against China for its mishandling of the Wuhan crisis. This backlash will often border on xenophobia. Both the governments of Nepal and China have to be mindful that this xenophobia is kept in check. Nothing right now is more important than opening up more lines of communication between the two countries, and to minimize disinformation. Nepal-China ties can never be comparable to Nepal-India ties. But there is no reason we cannot better understand China.

Growing up in Kathmandu, Buddha’s two eyes were ubiquitous—on shrines, shops, and shirts. I later learned they represent wisdom and compassion. I began to understand the meaning of these concepts much later, through my training in social work and through my wider exposure.

The Cambridge English Dictionary defines compassion as ‘a strong feeling of sympathy and sadness for other people’s suffering or back luck and a desire to help’. According to the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley, compassion literally means ‘to suffer together’, and emotion researchers define it as the feeling that arises when you are confronted with another’s suffering and feel motivated to relieve it.

Many movements in the world are based on compassion. Vegetarianism is one that we encounter in day-to-day life. This movement has compassion at its core and argues that vegetarianism is a way to support the inward growth of compassion in people and its outward extension to all animals. A keen observation reveals that all religions of the world have compassion at their heart.

Extending compassion to others uplifts you. “Adding a dose of compassion to someone else’s day not only uplifts their spirits, but makes you feel happier, too,” says Sara Schairer, the Founder and Executive Director of ‘Compassion It’. She adds that even the smallest, most simple gesture can brighten someone’s day and make you feel more connected to others. But J. Krishnamurti, in his book ‘The Whole Movement of Life Is Learning’, argues that compassion is not the doing of charitable acts or social reform; it is rather a freedom from from sentiment, romanticism and emotional enthusiasm. He contends that no new culture or society can come into being without compassion, and it is the essence of wholeness of life.

These highlights on compassion and their importance also raise some important questions: how does compassion work? Are we born with it? Can we grow it? Brene Brown, the famous compassion and vulnerability researcher and author of international bestsellers, says, “Compassion is not a virtue—it is a commitment. It’s not something we have or don’t have—it’s something we choose to practice.” In this pretext, I share my own experience of learning to practice compassion.

In 2015 I had a chance to sit in a Compassion Cultivation Training (CCT) developed at The Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education at Stanford University School of Medicine. The training was being provided under the guidance of Prof Lewis Wall, the founder of the Worldwide Fistula Fund. He has voluntarily and compassionately carried out many successful surgeries on fistula patients in African countries. CCT brings together traditional contemplative understanding and practice of compassion (e.g. Buddhist meditation) and contemporary psychology and scientific research on compassion to help practitioners improve resilience and connection with others, ultimately improving overall wellbeing.

Based on my learning in this training, reading books in the wider area, and teaching and practicing social work, I suggest a few basic, quick and effective tips on cultivating compassion.

Find 20 minutes of interruption-free time each day and focus on two things—breathing and thinking compassionately about people. The mere acts of focusing on breathing (observing the inward and outward flow of air through the nostrils) and thinking compassionately (remembering a happy moment we lived and thanking the people involved, and saying words of compassion to people we love) can help cultivate compassion.

As we continue practicing, we can add more people into our sphere of love and compassion. Cultivating compassion is easy if we begin with people we love and gradually include those we have a neutral opinion about. After some practice we may even forgive the people we think have wronged us and feel compassion for them.

At this point in the write-up, I am conscious of my own standpoint and reflective of my own practicing/not practicing compassion in life. I am acutely aware that I might have knowingly or unknowingly failed to be compassionate. But I believe that cultivating compassion is necessary in our move towards social justice, and thus remind myself to practice compassion. And I urge the readers of this piece to pause, take deep breaths, and extend compassion to the people around.

In the end, I invite you to reflect on this quote by the Dalai Lama: “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.”

The author is a PhD Scholar in Social Work at Boston College, USA

The power and cultural rights of the numerous indigenous groups in Nepal are diminishing in the name of development. Inclusive politics have been a part of the democratization of Nepal, and efforts have been made to empower marginalized groups. Nepal has for instance ratified the ILO 169 convention, a document that ensures the indigenous population their cultural rights. But their cultural heritage and land access are being threatened right across the country.

Chaos in Khokana

The bus reaches Khokana village on a hazy day the villagers have chosen for a festival to present and promote their ancient Newari culture. Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa and local politicians mount the stage set up in the village square. Teens play music in traditional clothing, and food stalls and dance troupes line the streets. Unfortunately, the festivities have a darker side.

I meet Nepal Dangol, who shows me around town. He is kindly greeted by many people along the way and we end up at the edge of village. We are overlooking yellow mustards fields that stretching towards the hills and mark the end of the Kathmandu Valley.

“All of this will be lost,” Nepal Dangol says with a grave look on his face. “The government is planning to capture everything.”

Khokana is being threatened by the ever-increasing urbanization of the Kathmandu Valley. The government has plans for eight major infrastructure projects in the vicinity of the village. The festival has been arranged to showcase the uniqueness of the village and to highlight what would be lost if the government goes ahead with its plans.

The plans include a fast track-highway to the Indian border, an outer ring road, a so-called Smart City, a high-tension line, and a railroad. All these projects combined will take up 80 percent of the village land and traditional agriculture will be history. The community and most of its households are built upon a structure their farming traditions and knowledge provide. Farming not only provides food but also a communal structure of cooperation and a sense of belonging.

My guides for the day, Nepal Dangol and Krishna Bharan Dangol, explain to me that they would accept one or two projects, but not all of them. They understand the needs of Kathmandu Valley and the Nepali government, but if all the planned projects are realized the village will have to be dispersed—something that is unacceptable to them.

The government obviously needs to improve the country’s infrastructure, but at what cost? Who has access to Nepal’s development? Khokana is unfortunately not the sole example in Nepal. The government’s development plans spread across the entire country, and the local population often has to deal with the consequences.

Migrating power

Our jeep travels on bumpy roads along the Marshyangdi and connecting rivers. It is an uncomfortable ride and I repeatedly bump my head against the ceiling. In the valleys and along the rivers most of the villages belong to the Gurung community. We meet people who complain about wells and farmland that dry up, noise pollution from heavy traffic and constant construction, landslides due to explosions and heavy machinery, and the disappearance of fish from the rivers. The culprit for these undesirable changes? The many hydropower plants are being built in the area. But many households in the area are not electrified and few people benefit from the new power projects. The generated electricity will instead be sold in India and Bangladesh.

Tunnels are being built to redirect the rivers to turbines, which affects the environment. As we travel up the Marshyandi River, power plants and construction sites line the mostly dry riverbed. Farmers tell us about how their fields are now useless since the river hydrate the turbines instead of their fields. The communities along the river depend on farming and fishing for a living, which means the already vulnerable communities are now more marginalized.

Most villages have been forced to build new channels and dig alternative wells. They still await compensation. The local politicians I talked to seemed incapable of supporting those affected and said all the decisions were made at the national level. The licenses to exploit the natural resources have been granted, and the numerous power companies that operate in the area have the right to do so. However, the local Gurung communities no longer have the right to fish.

Failing the natives

Sadly, this is a universal problem. Being Swedish, I often hear in Nepal that I come from a great country, famed for equality, welfare and as a protector of human rights. It is true to an extent. I enjoy a comfortable citizenship that comes with numerous benefits. However, I am sad to see big similarities in the way Nepal and Sweden treat their indigenous populations. In the Swedish cold north, the Sami community used to have a vast tundra to herd reindeer, deep forests to hunt, and big rivers to catch fish. The Swedish government now fills its treasury with money from mining, forestry and hydropower plants that exploit the old land of the Sami. The resources are exploited in the north and the profits and benefits end up in the south.

Unlike Sweden, Nepal has ratified the ILO 169, an international document that ensures indigenous populations their right to maintain their identity and culture. Access to land and maintaining traditional ways of life is major part of indigenous populations’ culture, and the two issues often go hand in hand. To maintain traditions, Gurung and Sami communities need access to natural resources. If these resources are limited, their culture is also threatened.

Sweden has chosen not to sign the ILO document to be able to exploit the land of Sami communities; Nepal has chosen to ignore the document even though it has ratified it.

After visiting Khokana and Lamjung, I saw that the government of Nepal ignores the right of indigenous populations and has its eyes only on economic development. Preserving ancient traditions, cultural heritage and identity are not prioritized. We need improved roads, and Nepal’s hospitals and households need power. However, one needs to question who are being effected by development. In my last month in Nepal I heard many stories about villages being lost and small-scale access to resources being limited. Indigenous communities are losing their rights, but Chinese cement factories and tourist attractions can enjoy increased rights.

Nepal promotes itself as a multicultural society with a model national charter. Nepal is a democratic and inclusive on paper—now is the time to become inclusive in practice. It needs to protect all of its citizens, Brahmins and Gurungs alike.

The author has an MSc in Global Studies from the University of Gothenburg, Sweden

I know we are all tired of hearing about Covid-19, the fake and the real news. And as I write this no one has any idea what will happen between now and the publishing of this column. Meantime, all international flights in and out of Nepal have been cancelled and inter-city buses stopped. It feels like the earthquake, blockade, conflict years, and the curfews of the early 2000s—all rolled into one. And as I write from my self-isolation, the supply of electricity has been patchy. So add the load-shedding era to that list too. But this time we are not alone. This time the whole world is under quarantine and holding its breath. So although I’m tired of talk about this damn virus, there is nothing else on my mind.

There has been plenty of apocalyptic things written—and yes, it certainly is a seriously worrying time. But there are those who are looking on the brighter side.  You will have noticed the pollution level in the valley has gone down as the number of vehicles on the road has decreased. You might have seen the pictures of the canals of Venice running crystal clear for the first time in goodness-knows-how-many decades. Wildlife is venturing into the deserted city streets and the environmentalists are taking—we cannot call it a break but let’s call it a pause—from their relentless campaigning. 

We see governments and corporations acknowledging that it’s not those in the high- income bracket who are the (so-called) pillars of the economy and society now. It is the dedicated medical staff and self-sacrificing retail and delivery personnel keeping us all going. Yes, indeed, the world has turned on its head.  A new order is perhaps beginning. A levelling of society, a redistribution of wealth maybe. And we will have to suck it up and get used to it. 

Meantime in Nepal, as I write this, nothing fundamentally has changed in my area.  Small teashops are still crowded with chatting men, women are still buying from well-stocked vegetable sellers, and children are still playing in the street. I don’t know if this will still be the same by the time you read this. Right now, however, it seems we have still not accepted the reality of the situation, or we are still depending on whatever deity we believe in to protect us. 

While we are in a semi-lockdown, some parts of the world are in complete quarantine. Whether because things have gotten so bad or in order to try and prevent the worst.  ‘Levelling the curve’, is a phrase we are perhaps now familiar with. Like ‘social distancing’, these are phrases we did not know until a few weeks ago. My parents are in long-term government recommended quarantine in the UK as they fall into the over 70 and therefore more vulnerable, category. My sister is in lockdown in California along with another 40 million people in that State. My other sister and her family are in self-quarantine. And billions of people have similar stories.    

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Covid-19, like the Angel of Death who passed over the Israelites, passed over Nepal? But realistically, this is highly unlikely, regardless as to which religion or deity we believe in. So, it’s up to us. Nepal has an amazing capacity to stand on the brink of disaster and somehow pull herself back. Let’s do the same this time. Let’s not fall into the abyss. As many Facebook posts tell us—when else are we going to be able to save the world by simply lying on the couch and watching Netflix? Good luck and stay home.