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I am on a gap year after high school, and I refuse to study in Nepal. Before you dismiss this as privilege or unpatriotic, understand: I don’t want to leave because I want to, I am leaving because staying means accepting mediocrity.

Former Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli claimed Nepali students choose foreign universities “by will, not necessity.” This is a comfortable lie. Last year, 112,593 students received government permission to study abroad. Fewer than 1,000 attended top-ranked universities. The remaining 111,593 aren’t chasing Ivy League dreams—they’re fleeing a system that has abandoned them, packing their entire lives into suitcases because survival, not ambition, demands it.

Ask the right questions: Why do parents sacrifice decades of savings not for elite education, but for basic opportunity? Why do students choose debt in foreign countries over ‘free’ education at home? Why do education consultancies occupy Kathmandu’s most expensive real estate while government schools lack benches? The answer isn’t student choice. It’s a system failure. And this election, we must vote like our futures depend on it, because they do.

The trust deficit in Nepali education

When 112,593 Nepali students received government permission to study abroad in FY 2023/24, nearly half the country’s entire university enrollment, they weren't chasing prestige. They were fleeing dysfunction. Surveys reveal the core problems: outdated curricula focused on rote memorization rather than problem-solving, chronic faculty shortages driven by political appointments over merit, campuses closed for union strikes more often than exams, and infrastructure so weak that science students lack functioning laboratories. A telling statistic: 65 percent of study-abroad aspirants cite “better academic facilities” as their primary reason, but the deeper issue is trust. Nepali employers themselves view local degrees skeptically, placing even high-scoring MBA graduates in entry-level roles because they know what the credential represents. 

When your own universities cannot vouch for their graduates, when political parties control student unions and hiring decisions, when classrooms teach students to “crack tests, not solve real-world problems,” education becomes a charade. Students aren’t abandoning Nepal because foreign universities are slightly better. They’re leaving because staying means accepting a degree the market doesn’t respect, taught by faculty hired through connections rather than competence, in institutions that close for political rallies more than they open for research. This isn’t brain drain. It’s a rational escape from institutional collapse. 

While India sends over 1m students abroad annually, its 0.07 percent per capita rate suggests most return with skills. Nepal’s 0.37 percent rate is the highest among comparable nations. We’re losing proportionally five times more educated youth than India, nearly double Vietnam (0.20 percent), and six times more than the Philippines (0.06 percent).

China, despite 1.41bn people, maintains just 0.03 percent outflow because domestic universities now rival Western institutions. Bangladesh (0.05 percent) leveraged its garment industry into upward mobility. Their students return as entrepreneurs. Sri Lanka (0.15 percent), despite economic collapse, maintains stronger public universities. Even Pakistan (0.06 percent), facing political instability, invested in engineering schools that retain talent.

The pattern is clear. Countries investing in domestic education see lower outflow. Those that neglect it watch their brightest queue at consultancies. Our 110,000 annual departures from the 30m population means every extended family has someone abroad. When nearly two out of every 1,000 Nepalis leave annually (19 percent of tertiary-age cohort), we’re not experiencing brain drain. We’re witnessing structural collapse of faith in national institutions.

South Korea transformed from aid recipient to developed nation in one generation by making education the national obsession. If they could do it, why can’t we?

South Korea’s education miracle

South Korea’s transformation from $158 GDP per capita in 1960 to $33,000 by 2023 wasn’t luck. It was political will. Post-Korean War leaders made education the national obsession. They standardized a 6-3-3-4 schooling system, enforced compulsory middle school by 1985, and used lottery-based school assignments to eliminate inequality. When private tutoring threatened equity, they regulated it while maintaining universal access. By 2023, 71 percent of young Koreans held tertiary degrees, the OECD’s highest rate.

The lesson isn’t just policy. It’s leadership. Park Chung-hee, despite authoritarian flaws, treated education as infrastructure, not charity. He built 20,000 classrooms by 1967 because he understood that factories need educated workers. Singapore followed the same playbook, spending 4.5 percent of GDP on merit-based streaming systems, achieving 100 percent secondary enrollment and $82,000 GDP per capita. Taiwan focused on vocational training post-1960, creating the semiconductor talent pool that now powers global tech.

Nepal spends 4.2 percent of GDP on education, below UNESCO’s six percent standard, yet no major party has released a comprehensive education manifesto this election. South Korea proved education delivers 10-15 percent ROI in development. Their leaders chose textbooks over rhetoric. Ours choose highways over human capital. The question isn’t whether Nepal can replicate Korea’s miracle. It’s whether our politicians have the courage to try.

Before you vote, look at your younger sibling studying for SLC. Look at your nephew who dreams of engineering but whose school lacks lab equipment. Ask yourself: what do they actually need?

They need universities where politics stays outside. They need education as public service, not private business. They need research funding so students don’t flee Nepal to run experiments. They need startup culture as normalized as ragging is in medical colleges, as common as alcohol seems in engineering hostels.

Right now, entrepreneurship is a hobby. Research is a luxury. Education is a transaction. Politics controls every hiring decision. Bring one question to rallies: “What is your education plan, and how will you fund it?” Don’t accept “we prioritize youth.” Demand specifics. Will you increase spending to six percent? Remove political appointments? Fund research? Build labs? When?

Post their answers. Vote for plans, not slogans. South Korea’s leaders chose textbooks over rhetoric. If we demand it, ours can too. Your vote decides whether your siblings build futures here or pack them in suitcases.

What will happen after the March 5 elections? This is a question I find myself constantly reflecting on. Let us imagine the best-case scenario. Voting proceeds smoothly, with only minor incidents of violence. No major security threats emerge, and people are able to exercise their franchise freely and in a positive spirit.

As for the outcome, I am not overly concerned about who wins or about the usual maneuvering that accompanies government formation. Perhaps a new generation of politicians will emerge victorious, and citizens will witness the dawn of a different era in national politics. Maybe one party will secure a clear majority. Or perhaps a coalition of reformed forces will come together around a progressive, transparent, and effective governing agenda.

What truly interests me, however, is what happens next: how people, especially the youth, will act in the weeks and months following the vote? Will young people sustain the political engagement that was ignited after the Sept 2025 uprising? Will citizens discover new ways to follow, shape, and contribute to national conversations as new policies are introduced by the federal government?

A new era in politics cannot rely solely on a more honest and effective class of politicians. Of course, having capable and principled representatives in Parliament would make a tremendous difference, even if it is wise to keep expectations realistic. After all, transforming people’s lives is far easier said than done. That is precisely why sustained public engagement will be so crucial.

Staying informed and consistently following politics requires effort. I have met brilliant young people, members of what society broadly calls Gen Z, who avoided news altogether before the September uprising. But how can one participate in a national rebuilding project while ignoring political developments and issues of national importance?

Reading the news, including thoughtful opinion pieces, is foundational to building a deep attachment to the country’s development. Some may raise eyebrows at the idea of attributing such importance to newspapers, whether online or in print. Yet it is undeniable: being informed and understanding issues is essential for forming meaningful opinions. Taking the time to read carefully, to engage with analysis, can make a real difference.

For me, investing time in these habits is the first step toward building the knowledge and expertise that any young citizen should cultivate if they wish to have a say in how the country is governed.

Is it easy? Is it quick? Certainly not. It takes commitment to build such routines. I sometimes struggle myself, especially as I spend significant time reading international news. But the effort is worthwhile.

Reading, however, is only the beginning. There are many other ways to nurture civic engagement.

Engagement can take more informal forms: open-minded conversations within circles of friends, watching debate programs with genuine curiosity, or attending public discussions. These are important. But if we truly aspire to build a Naya Nepal, we must also think beyond conventional approaches.

Schools and colleges could establish discussion clubs where students gather regularly to deliberate on complex issues with openness and respect. Everyone agrees that politics should be cleaner and less expensive. But what are the practical solutions? What lessons can we draw from other countries? What best practices already exist?

Seeking solutions is not boring. One may not be interested in every issue, but we need a new generation of citizens who consciously decide to develop expertise for the broader benefit of society.

Informal communities of practice focused on specific themes could also play a role. Youth organizations, informal clubs, or civic groups could create spaces where participants commit time and effort to deepen their understanding of public-interest issues.

While many young people have recently joined politics, others have chosen not to take that leap, even if tempted. Some remain indifferent. Others feel disillusioned by events following the September uprising. What matters most is that those who felt a spark after the bloodshed—those who wrote their first op-eds or spoke out publicly for the first time—continue their journey of civic engagement.

The country cannot afford to revert to old patterns, where power is delegated through the ballot box and citizens retreat into indifference, tolerating malpractice with a resigned “ke garne” attitude. Ideally, the nation should embrace a new way of doing politics, one grounded in active and direct participation. A culture where reasoned deliberation at local levels complements the electoral system.

Such transformation will not happen overnight. It will unfold gradually, in phases. What truly matters is the willingness of young people and society at large to remain committed with an open mind.

A new political culture rooted in consistent civic engagement cannot emerge unless we adopt an attitude focused on solving problems rather than competing for power and positions. With openness, those already engaged in public discourse can continue building their knowledge and envision pathways to step forward and contribute more meaningfully.

It is equally important to find ways to bring into the civic space those who have not yet found an outlet for their voice, or who are simply overwhelmed by daily struggles.

Nepal, landlocked between the two giant neighbors—China, the world’s second largest economy, to the north across the Himalayas and India, the fourth largest economy, wrapping around its eastern, western and southern borders—is still struggling with inadequate physical infrastructure, limited connectivity and remains starved of sustained economic prosperity, despite the glorious history and epochs of rich and vibrant civilization of its own.

Since gaining independence from the 104-year autocratic Rana regime in 1951, Nepal has attained almost all the major political achievements it needs to accomplish up to the present day. Although the implementation of these achievements has often remained weak, Nepali citizens have, through constitution, already secured a broad range of rights, freedoms and access to the state. Today, no Nepali citizen, regardless of any race, religion, language, gender or region, has to be marginalized by the state system. In this context, continuing to advocate for various political issues and keeping the nation entangled in a prolonged state of transition even at present no longer appears to be relevant. Instead, the Nepali people are increasingly demanding development and prosperity. They aspire to become prosperous citizens of a prosperous nation and seek a decisive breakthrough in physical infrastructure, internal and external connectivity and economic transformation comparable to that achieved by other developed and emerging economies of the world. They wish to see Nepal moving fast on a development and growth trajectory.

On the same note, a memorandum of understanding (MoU) on the construction of the Trans-Himalayan Railway, also known as China-Nepal cross border Railway, the planned extension of the very famous 1956 kilometer Qinghai-Tibet Railway, was signed by the President of the People’s Republic of China, Xi Jinping, and then Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli in June 2018 under the overarching framework of the Trans-Himalayan Multidimensional Connectivity Network, a component of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). As per the underscored plan, the Trans-Himalayan Railway is designed to link Kathmandu, the capital city of Nepal, with China’s vast rail network via the 527.2-km Jilong/Keyrung-Xigaze/Shigatse rail corridor, which subsequently connects with the Qinghai-Tibet Railway network, operational since 2006.

The Trans-Himalayan Railway corridor isn’t just a railway, it’s a 600-km engineering marvel designed to pierce straight through the world’s tallest mountain range, connecting Nepal directly with China. Beyond its monumental scale, the railway will confront one of the most geologically volatile and environmentally hostile regions on Earth, where the Indian plate continues its inexorable collision with the Eurasian plate, making the region a hotspot of intense seismic activity. This ongoing tectonic activity causes frequent earthquakes, from minor tremors to catastrophic events capable of reshaping the landscape. Adding to this extraordinary challenge is the railway's dramatic vertical journey, descending from approximately 4,500 meters on the Tibetan Plateau, cutting through the Himalayan massif, and arriving in Kathmandu at around 1,400 meters. This represents an elevation differential of nearly 3,000 meters, an engineering feat of exceptional rarity in the history of railway construction. Reflecting the extreme terrain, the 2018 pre-feasibility study reveals that about 98.8 percent of the 72.2-km Nepal section of the railway would consist of tunnels and bridges.

Although discussion about linking China’s railway network to Nepal first came up in the year 1973 during a meeting between the President of the People's Republic of China, Mao Zedong, and Nepal’s King Birendra, it failed to gain meaningful momentum for decades until Nepal faced the unofficial Indian Blockade in 2015, which compelled Kathmandu to seek alternative corridors to the outside world. In this context, China’s railway emerged as an economic lifeline, offering Nepal a pathway to reduce its long-standing dependence on India as the sole gateway for trade and transit.

Since ancient times, Kathmandu has been a commercial bridge and logistical base, playing a key role in regional commerce between South Asia and China under the historic Silk Road connectivity, long before the advancement of modern way of road and water transportation. The city’s prosperity during this era was, to some extent, underpinned by its position as an intermediary between South Asian markets and Lhasa. By effectively utilizing the revitalized historic route through the Trans-Himalayan Railway, Nepal once again could position itself as a vital bridge between China, with 1.4bn people, and South Asia including India, the largest population on Earth, emerging as a regional trade hub and accelerating its economic advancement.

Whether in energy or innovation, space science or biology, human cognition or artificial intelligence, China’s trajectory of advancement is nothing short of astonishing. On a global scale, regardless of the benchmark cost at which any product is manufactured, if there is any country capable of producing the same goods at lower cost, with greater speed, on a far larger scale, or across a wide range of varieties, that country today is China alone—and achieving direct connectivity with such a nation, by significantly reducing transport time and trade costs, the Trans-Himalayan Railway would unlock a new horizon of possibilities for Nepal, transforming it from a landlocked into a land-linked one. Enhanced connectivity with China would open access to one of the world’s largest consumer markets, enabling Nepal to expand exports of high value goods such as medicinal herbs, agro products, handicrafts and niche manufactured items.

Beyond trade, the railway could attract substantial foreign direct investment across key sectors like logistics, manufacturing, agriculture, tourism, hydroelectricity and infrastructure, while improved rail connectivity would simultaneously boost tourism by making Nepal more accessible to Chinese and international travelers, thereby strengthening hospitality, transport and service industries. 

Hindus all over the world celebrate Mahashivaratri, a festival dedicated to Shiva or Mahadev (the god of gods), one of the three principal gods or Tridev—the other two being Brahma and Vishnu—in a grand manner. Monday of every week is considered to be  the holy day for worshipping Shiva. Mahashivaratri, which falls mostly on the month of Falgun, marks the day when Shiva saved the world from destruction by holding the deadly Halahala (a deadly poison) in his throat. During this festival, people observe fasting, worship Shiva and stay awake all night. After bathing early in the morning, devotees visit Shiva temples and worship the god with Bel (wood apple) leaves and datura flowers (moonflowers) amid the chants of ‘Om Namah Shivaya’.

There are many interesting myths about the origin of Mahashivaratri. One of them goes: Once gods were trying to extract nectar from the ocean using the Manthara mountain as Madani (a pole with shafts, used for churning milk) and the great serpent Vasuki as a rope. Vasuki got tired and started vomiting Halahal, leaving the deities much panicked as the poison could destroy the entire universe. Shiva drank this poison to avert the calamity while Parvati, his consort, sat down pressing the throat to prevent the poison from going down his throat. Vishnu also closed Shiva’s mouth to prevent the poison from spreading. The gods were worried and fasted all day and stayed awake all night, wishing for Shiva’s good health. Shiva held Halahal in his throat throughout, causing it to turn blue. For this reason, he got the name Neelkanth (blue-throated) and the night dedicated to him is known as Mahashivaratri.

Dolakha is an ancient town with rich Newari culture outside the valley. Here, not a month goes by without some festival or fair. There are various  arrangements not only for food and drink but also for entertainment during every festival. 

There are Mahadev temples in Pingal Tole, Tashicha Tole and Simbhuthan of the upper tole of Dolakha. Among these, locals offer puja during Mahashivaratri at at Mahadev temples of Simbhuthan and Pingal Tole by making a huge fire. Bhimeshwar is considered a manifestation of Mahadev and there’s a temple dedicated to him in Dolakha (the Bhimeshwar temple), but no big celebration takes place at the temple during Mahashivaratri.

The late Balkrishna Joshi, former Chief of Gauri Shankar Campus, had first published an article about the cult of Bhimeswar using the term ‘Ek Shila Teen Avatar’ in the magazine ‘Hamro Sanskriti’ published by the Department of Culture. He wrote that even if there is only one stone idol, it takes three forms—Bhimsen, Bhimeshwar and Bhairav—during different times of worship.  The term ‘Ek Shila Teen Avatar’ that he used for the first time has become very popular now.

The late Joshi had made some revisions in this article before his death, a part of which is presented here: “There is another legend about the origins of Bhimeshwar. During their exile into the woods (they had gone incognito for the sake of their saftety)—after losing all in a gamble (dhyutkrida) with the Kauravs at Hastinapur—the Pandava reached Dolakha through the forests hills. At that time, Draupadi became very tired and sick. She started crying and bemoaned with Bhimsen about her poor condition. Moved by her plight, Bhimsen worshiped and prayed to Mahadev by looking toward Mount Gaurishankar. Thereafter, Draupadi became healthy and was able to walk. After this, Bhimsen, pleased with blessings from Mahadev installed a Shivalinga and worshiped it. This Shivalinga came to be known as Bhimeshwar.

He had used the term ‘Ek Shila Teen Avatar’ as there are three forms of Dolakha Bhimeshwar: Mahadev (at the time of Rudri Puja), Bhimsen (at the time of daily worship) and Bhairav (at the time of buffalo and goat sacrifice). Gods used to take different forms in ancient times and Bhimeshwar of Dolakha was (and is) no exception.

According to Dhanbajra Bajracharya and  Tek Bahadur Shrestha (The Historical Outline of Dolakha), “There is no special statue of Bhimsen like Bhimsensthan in other places. There is only one type of Shivalinga-shaped idol. Here, Bhimsen is also considered an ‘Ishwar’ (Mahadev) and Rudri performed. Along with this, animal sacrifices are also performed here by wrapping the idol of Bhimeshwar in a Khada.”

According to historians, expressions such as Shree 3 Mahadev, glory to Shankar and Shree 3 Bhimeshwar inscribed in old gold and copper plates, mace, pinnacle, etc indicate that Bhimsen had the temple of Bhimeshwar built in Dolakha.

The evidence found in Vanshawali (genealogies) and writings of foreign scholars strongly supports the opinion of the late Joshi. In the course of their research into the history of Nepal, foreign scholars like Mary Slusser and Sylvian Levy have highlighted the glory of Bhimeshwar, but Nepali scholars seem to have ignored it. A book titled ‘Nepal Desh Ko Itihas’ goes: One day, Bhimsen came to Nepal (then Kathmandu valley), where Danasur was blocking the flow of water and enjoying a ride on a boat made of a rock. Upon seeing him, girls got frightened and ran away….. Bhimsen established a Shivalinga (Bhimeshwar Shivalinga) and returned to Dolakha. It is believed that the rock still lies in Bhimdhunga, a settlement in Nagarjun municipality, Kathmandu. 

In Dolakha Bhimeshwar, devotees pray for their welfare, offer puja and perform Rudri Puja round the year. During Rudri, water mixed with milk is continuously poured over the idol from a special vessel  hanging on top of the idol. Tridents, sloping bulls and drums offered at the temple point that many devotees regard Bhimeshwar as a form of Shiva. On the occasion of Bhim Ekadashi, the leaves of Bel tree are put in a palanquin and brought at the temple for offering puja to Shiva amid a musical procession that attracts devotees from far and wide. 

Therefore,  there should be no delay in taking the initiative to celebrate Mahashivratri with great pomp in Dolakha as well.