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June 11 is the date for the arrival of the monsoon in Nepal. This year, there was no sign of rain on the 11th. The days ticked by as we looked at the skies, increasingly anxious about the oppressive feeling in the air. A cyclone predicted to hit the coast of Gujarat moved away to the ocean, and was blamed for sucking rain away from the mainland. No one—meteorologists, climate change specialists, Indian scientifc community, NASA—seemed to know why the monsoon was delayed. As the drought worsened, maps started to appear on Twitter, showing how far the monsoon should have moved across the subcontinent by late June. Most Indian states which should have received rain had seen weak rainfall or none at all.

The briefest shower I have ever seen in Kathmandu washed away the dust on the leaves of my curry tree plant on June 17. The rain lasted fve minutes. On Asar 15 ( June 30), we saw photographs of people planting rice in what looked like well-irrigated terraces. Mud-happy people stuck rice seedlings into the ground. For a Twitter moment, all seemed well.

For most urban dwellers running around on motorcycles, rain is an inconvenience that floods them in badly planned cities. Urban floods are an annual occurrence in cities like Mumbai. But “floods” and “droughts” are two sides of the same coin. For a continent that should recharge during rainy season and withdraw water during dry season, we tend to waste our precious water during monsoon in dirty, uncontrollable floods, and cry foul during dry season when another state or area which has better managed its resources refuses to give us its precious hoard.

South Asia has also adopted the electric underground pump with a vengeance—most of us get our drinking water from rained groundwater reservoirs. But South Asians in general are not known for frugal use of water. We extract massive amounts from our finite reservoirs with no thought for the future. We leave the tap turned on because there are no consequences from government or community.

Chennai, a city of estimated 12 million people, has run dry. The alarming news that this major city in India had run out of water first became evident through satellite photographs posted by NASA, which showed before and after photographs of Puzhal Lake from 2018 and 2019. The four rained reservoirs in Chennai were operating at a 0.2 capacity. Thecity, the NASA article notes, “has been devoid of rain for almost 200 days.”

An article by Nidhi Jamwal in ‘The Wire’ on June 27, titled “Not Just Chennai, India’s Drought Situation Is Far Worse Than We Realize” quotes the South Asian Drought Monitor: “more than 44% area of the country is facing drought-like conditions, of which over 17% is facing ‘severe dry’ conditions.”

On June 23, I read an article titled ‘Amid growing crisis, Madhya Pradesh may become first state to introduce Right to Water Act’ on the India Water Portal. The language of rights has always interested me, not the least in ways South Asians demand rights without also realizing it comes with responsibilities.

So I posted this on Twitter: In India too, the talk is all about “rights” but nothing about “responsibilities.” Not even basic water conservation steps like turning off taps, not overusing tubewells (I’ve seen these left gushing in India), just plain old abuse of water is not addressed.

India wastes massive amount of water, not the least for irrigation where farmers turn on an electric motor and leave the water gushing for hours on end. This waste is fueled by cheap electricity subsidies. As the July 1 op-ed “To handle water crisis, overhaul irrigation” by Joydeep Gupta in India Climate Dialogue pointed out, this must be replaced by the more efficient drip-irrigation system which pinpoints and directs water directly to the roots of the plant instead of flooding the entire field. He also advocates a move away from water intensive crops like rice towards barley and millets that are water efficient.

The language describing this crisis as “drought” and “climate change” removes human agency and turns the manmade environmental disaster into an abstract natural catastrophe. Yet we are very much to blame. By we, I mean government policies that have prioritized pumps over indigenous methods of recharge, and forest clearcutting for mining companies instead of reforestation. By we, I mean cities which have paved every single inch with asphalt and turned urban spaces into barren deserts. By we, I mean users who over-pump underground reservoirs with no thought of the future.

It is clear that the Prime Minister’s Offce in India is now taking the water conservation issue seriously. On June 30, PM Modi urged people to conserve every drop of water and create a database of people involved in the indigenous water conservation.

This is the first step in acknowledging wasteful use of water is a cause of India’s water emergency. India needs to move towards a national and regional policy which prioritizes reforestation, river conservation, groundwater stewardship, rainwater harvesting, and wells and ponds revival. Is South Asia, as a region, prepared for such a massive crisis? India and Pakistan continue to battle onwards with manufactured military crisis in Kashmir that eat away at their treasuries. So successful has this strategy been for political domination in each country that nobody—not least the political elites—seem willing to put it aside for the real issues, including water, besetting the subcontinent. India needs to sink a few million recharge wells into its cities and villages, but most of the money is siphoned off to buy clunky, decommissioned military hardware from Russia and France instead.

South Asia cannot afford a drought. We are a continent of a billion and a half people dependent on rain-fed agriculture. The crops may fail this year, and we need to plan. The alternative— South Asian governments’ apathy—is too terrifying to imagine. Without rain to recharge these underground water dhukuti, we are looking not just at an abstract “monsoon defcit” but a humanitarian crisis. India must stop its BIMSTEC nonsense and immediately come onboard SAARC again. The very first issues the South Asian region must discuss is how to resolve the water and upcoming food shortage crisis.

Late in June, the federal government brought together in Kathmandu the honorary general consuls of Nepal in different countries, spending more than Rs 12 million to host them and to inform about Nepal. As the invitations were sent out only days before the start, only 21 of 64 honorary consul generals could make it. These are people appointed by the government of Nepal to promote the country’s interest abroad. Unlike ambassadors and consulate generals,
they are not paid.

Nepali ambassadors abroad were not amused as the government had invited them without prior consultations with them. As Non Resident Nepalis with little diplomatic experience are these days appointed as honorary consuls, the Foreign Ministry sees them as pretty much useless. The shambolic Kathmandu jamboree did nothing to improve their image.

Madan Kumar Bhattrari, a former foreign secretary, advises that such gatherings be held at or near the countries were these consuls serve, or if the program is to be held in Nepal, they be given enough time to prepare.

As per the Vienna Convention, the post should go to those who have close understanding of the country/society they are based in. This is why, says Mohan Krishna Shrestha, a former chief of protocol at the foreign ministry, foreigners instead of Nepalis are best placed to promote Nepal abroad.

Currently NRNs serve as honorary consuls in Australia, Canada, Belarus, Cyprus, Portugal, the US and Germany. They seem to have no responsibility besides catering to high-level Nepali dignitaries when they go visit these countries. This is also the reason foreigners are not interested in taking up the job.

During the Kathmandu gathering, Prime Minister KP Oli urged the honorary consuls to promote Nepal as a tourism destination ahead of the ‘Visit Nepal 2020’ and to create a conducive environment for the realization of the slogan “Prosperous Nepal, Happy Nepali”.

The gathering highlighted the country’s political situation, the aspect of tourism promotion, and economic diplomacy. But the honorary consuls, who are appointed on a purely political basis, are in no position to achieve these goals. They are often completely divorced from the realities of the countries and cities they are based in.
Nepal has diplomatic ties with 166 countries. There are 30 Nepali Embassies, three Permanent missions of Nepal to the United Nations (New York, Geneva and Vienna), Permanent Residence for the UN, and Six Consulates General of Nepal. The idea is to have honorary consuls in places that are not served by these diplomatic missions. And yet if we look at Nepali honorary consuls abroad, they typically serve in places quite close to the national embassies.

There are honorary consuls even within Nepal, 45 of them, who have been appointed by Nepal to act as a bridge with different countries. In practice they have no discernable duty, even though they are given facilities like diplomatic-plated vehicles, access to VIP lounge in International Airport, easy entry into Singhdurbar and to VIPs. Honorary consuls abroad do not get these facilities.

As things stand, these honorary consuls, in Nepal or abroad, are as good as useless, with only a handful of exceptions. So long as their roles are not clearly defined and so long as the posts are not given to those of high social standing, as envisioned in the Vienna Convention, they will continue to be useless. The honorary consuls are also a tragic reminder of how political meddling has skewed our foreign policy priorities.

The author heads the ‘Political, Current and Foreign Affairs’ bureau at Annapurna Post daily

 I’m frequently asked why I live in Nepal. I know a lot of other long-term expats are asked the same thing. Whether we came for work, love, or Dharma, I think that once we cross a certain number of years of precarious ‘non-resident residency’, the only logical answer seems to veer towards “because it’s there”. In this 100th anniversary year of the birth of Sir Edmund Hillary, there has been a lot of press cov­erage, both good and bad, about Mount Everest. So I thought I could also get my penny’s worth in. But with perhaps a different twist rather than the ‘should or shouldn’t peo­ple still be climbing this mountain’ debate. A mountain now more iconic than technical, more per­sonal demon than abode of the gods. So here goes.

It has been 66 years since Sir Edmund and Tenzing Norgay stood on top of the world. In those days permits were given out at the rate of one per year. Today permits are given out in much larger numbers. With results as we have seen in the media over the last few weeks. This can perhaps be a reflection of our journey in Nepal: at first quite rare, we expats are now ‘ten-a-penny’, as the saying goes. Seen perhaps as taking up space or being a nec­essary evil? Quality and quantity getting confused over and over, and regularly turned around. The sweet and sour.

I had always known there was a database of climbs, appropriately called the Himalayan Database, which records feats of mountaineer­ing madness—the record breaking attempts, the successes, and the failures. I have even met the original keeper of this record—the Late Miss Elizabeth Hawley. This fierce woman was one of the group of early expats to the country. However, it was only very recently that I learned that the database started basically as a hobby for the freelance reporter that she was in 1960s Nepal.

I think like many of us, Liz Hawley arrived on a whim, stayed with a pas­sion, and remained longer ‘because it’s there’. I also learned recently that renowned mountaineer Ralf Dujmovits, who has summited Ever­est and all the 14 eight-thousand­ers, is reported to have said when asked about why people today still climb Everest, “because everyone is there”.

Perhaps that is the answer then. Do long-term expats stay in Nepal because “everyone is there”? Cer­tainly there comes a tipping point when you have more friends in one country than in another. As we age we lose parents and siblings. Chil­dren are no longer dependent on us and strike out on their own adven­tures. Or we stay because we have a Nepali partner and children who are here. As I have mentioned before, the transient nature of expat life means that friends come and go on a regular basis.

At some point I stopped trying to make friends with people who are here on a two-year contract. More heart-wrenching perhaps is the number of Nepali friends who have left to find their own Shangri-La in another country. On the other hand, one well-known American in her 80s who has been here for considerable time, recently recalled arriving at Kathmandu airport (air-strip back then) in 1958. While being driven towards her new posting in the American Embassy, gazing around at the ring of snow-capped moun­tains and greenery of the Valley, she thought to herself, “Wow, I am going to be here for two whole years!” For her it might be she wasn’t here so much on a whim, but definitely she stayed on a passion and con­tinues perhaps because “everyone is there”.

 On 19 November 1951, King Tribhuvan announced the formation of a government that “would be popular and rule according to the wishes of the cit­izens.” The king’s statement also said: “Until the views of the citi­zens can be ascertained through elections, we feel the government should be headed by the leader of the largest outfit approved by the people, and someone who can carry out duties in an ideal and noble manner.” It was Matrika Prasad Koirala whom Tribhuvan chose as the first civilian prime minister following the downfall of the Rana oligarchy and the resignation of the last Rana Prime Minister Mohan Shumsher.

Matrika was the president of the Nepali Congress and the main com­mander of the armed revolution against the Rana regime. But he was not a party ideologue. It was his younger brother Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala who led the party’s ideological front. But BP could not be the prime minister then, as he was not in the good books of internal and external forces.

Mohan Shumsher continued hold­ing the prime minister’s post fol­lowing the overthrow of the Rana regime on 18 February 1951. But disputes between him and the Con­gress persisted. On 2 October 1951, King Tribhuvan formed a 35-mem­ber ‘advisory board’ to assist and counsel the Cabinet, but without consulting with PM Mohan Shum­sher or any cabinet member. This hurt Mohan Shumsher no end.

He announced his resignation on 12 November 1951 amid political disputes and discontents. Congress ministers had already resigned by then. The resignations opened the door for King Tribhuvan to form a new government, which he asked the Congress to lead.

Within the Congress, there were arguments over whether Matrika or BP should be the prime minister. Matrika reasoned that neither the king nor India would accept BP. The reason Tribhuvan was angry with BP was that he had resigned from the home minister’s post with­out consulting with the king. Mean­while, Nehru sent a letter to King Tribhuvan saying India too would not accept BP. BP then agreed to Matrika’s nomination as the prime minister.

Matrika’s cabinet had eight Con­gress representatives and six inde­pendent ones. The latter consisted of Rana courtiers and King Tribhu­van’s loyalists.

The majority of Congress lead­ers were unhappy with Matrika’s selection as the prime minister. The candidate of their choice was BP, who not only had a clear political perspective and some experience as a home minister, but was also closer to party members.

Also unhappy with Matrika was a senior Cabinet minister, Keshar Shumsher, who was on the Rana prime ministerial roll and had eyed the top post.

Following the formation of the government, the Congress started issuing more and more instruc­tions to it. It even had a debate on whether the government was bigger than the party.

The fact that Matrika was both the prime minister and the Con­gress president became a topic of contention within the party, which subscribed to a policy of ‘one indi­vidual, one post’. This meant limit­ing Matrika to the prime minister’s post. Congress leaders also started making loud demands for a General Convention. Matrika insisted that the GC should not elect party lead­ership and that he should be chosen unopposed.

Next week’s ‘Vault of history’ column will discuss the tussle between Matrika and BP over party presidency