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The workshop of Nitesh Mehta on the East-West Highway (Mahendra Highway) in Inaruwa, Sunsari, used to be packed with motorcycles. On a normal day, he would have no time to sit back and sip tea, his favorite drink. But these days, the workshop wears a deserted look, just like the abutting highway. He has all the leisure in the world but, alas, no business.

The tea stall of Gunjan Chaudhary, about 500 meters from Mehta’s workshop, is almost as deserted. In the few hours he opens in the morning and evening, he serves hardly 10 percent of the regular customers who used to throng his shop.

Other small roadside businesses have similar stories for the obvious reason: the prolonged lockdown.

Province 1, where Inaruwa is located, is relatively better off in terms of road network, with three north-south highways—Mechi, Koshi, Sagarmatha—intersecting the cross-country Mahendra Highway at different places. The province has a diverse terrain, ranging from Kechana Kalan, Nepal’s lowest point (70 meters above sea level) to Mt. Everest, the highest point on the planet (8,848 meters). It has long been Nepal’s political, academic, industrial, and commercial hub.

Due to high public mobility, small businesses along the highways and inner roads have always thrived in the province. But the situation now is bleak. A reliable figure on their total business, however, is unavailable as these small shops are outside Nepal’s formal economy.

Kishor Pyakurel, who owns Ujjwal Dairy and Coffee House in Itahari, another major business center of the province on the East-West Highway, claims that his business had been booming because of ‘competitive prices and services’ on offer—before the lockdown wrecked it.

“We sell mohi [buttermilk], coffee, green tea, and fruit salad. But due to the lockdown, we haven’t been able to sell anything. The coffee machine gets damaged if it is not used for long,” laments Pyakurel.

Pyakurel’s customers are diverse—bankers, government employees, teachers, police personnel, NGO workers, students, locals, and sometimes travelers from nearby places. Many of them hail from Inaruwa, Jhumka, and Dharan. They have stopped coming after the lockdown. “I used to import coffee from India. Now even if the lockdown is lifted, it will be hard to get,” he adds.

Rajesh KC, who runs a readymade store in Nepaltar, Ilam, also has been tallying significant losses of late, and is worried about its sustenance. Travelers passing on the Mechi Highway to visit Pathivara and Panchthar, as well as people from nearby areas travelling for trade, constituted half of his regular customers. They are not coming anymore, neither are local students who frequently bought from him.

“My summer stock of raincoats, shoes, gumboots, bags, and umbrellas has gone to waste. By next year, they will be damaged,” KC says. He used to make around 5,000-6,000 rupees a day from the store, and nearly all that income has now been lost.

Bipin Acharya, owner of Family Sekuwa Corner at Padajungi, Jhapa, has a similar story. He had started his eatery with bank loans on a rented piece of land. He has to pay the rent and give salary to helpers even when there is no business, and he fears the banks will start pressing him to repay as soon as the lockdown ends. “I had hoped to make some profit this year. But everything is uncertain now.”

Acharya’s customers include drivers and helpers of buses and trucks. The business was thriving. “I had started getting orders for parties and events from government and private offices. I used to pay back bank loans in daily instalments of Rs 2,100. And I earned well to look after the family. Now, it’s all gone,” he rues.

As the situation remains uncertain, Pyakurel, the coffee shop owner, is shifting to mushroom farming as an alternative income source. But KC, the readymade-store owner, and Acharya, who runs the sekewa corner, have not been able to try something new.

“Starting a new business during the lockdown is tough here. And you have to start from scratch. I am rather hoping the lockdown ends soon,” says KC. Likewise, for Acharya, taking up another business is not an option. “I have expertise in sekuwa. I don't think I can do anything else immediately.” 

After the low of the 2015-16 blockade, Nepal-India ties have again hit rock bottom following the latest disputes over some 372 sq km of land on the border abutting the Kali River. India built a road through the Lipulekh Pass without consulting Nepal. It has also been stationing its army at Kalapani since the early 1950s, purportedly to monitor Chinese movements in Tibet. The latest disputes came to a head when the Indian army chief pooh-poohed Nepal’s claim over Kalapani and Lipulekh, saying that they fall entirely within India, and accused Nepal of raising the issue at China’s behest.

Yet most Nepalis, and their government, are as angry with China as they are with India. They think China should not have allowed India to unilaterally build the road on what China considers a tri-junction between Nepal, India and China. Even worse, did the road have Chinese blessing, they suspect? After Nepal published a new national map incorporating all the disputed territories, China said it hoped both Nepal and India would stop all unilateral activities. It added the dispute over the Kalapani region in particular is entirely up to Nepal and India to settle.

Says Lin Minwang, Professor at Institute of International Studies at Fudan University, who closely follows China’s South Asia policy, “India has territorial issues with all its neighboring countries, and has always insisted on a tough position on territorial disputes, which is not conducive to a stable and peaceful environment.” Instead of solving its outstanding issues with Nepal, he added, India is trying to deflect the blame by accusing China of instigating the protests in Nepal.

The bargain India and China struck in 2015 while deciding to open trading via Lipulekh is still shrouded in secrecy. There is a suspicion in Nepal that since India offers China huge markets at its doorstep, Beijing will silently support India’s bid to link the two regional giants, including through passes like Lipulekh. China will have to do a lot to dispel this doubt in the days ahead.

Nepal-India EPG member Surya Nath Upadhyay thinks as Nepal has in the past supported China in difficult times, Nepal can expect reciprocal support. “We should not hesitate to seek active support of China to resolve the Lipulekh dispute. Without pressure from China, India will not agree to its resolution.”

But as the instigator of the current dispute and as the party that has been reluctant to settle Kalapani for many decades, the onus lies on India to create a conducive climate for Nepal-India talks. Ultimately, a workable solution will have to come through dialogue; there is no other way out. Meanwhile, we hope high-ranking officials in both Nepal and India, and their influential voices in the media and the society, refrain from making incendiary remarks to further complicate the situation. Here is a chance for India to prove its Nepal ties are indeed special.

Following the lead of other urban areas in the country, schools and colleges in Inaruwa municipality of the eastern Nepali district of Sunsari have also started running online classes. But this municipality of around 65,000 people is poorly equipped for it. There is no reason to believe it can effectively run or sustain online classes.

Dipesh Dhakal, an accounts teacher at the local Janak Smriti Secondary School, doubts the feasibility of online classes. He himself runs a few online classes for his students every week, and is unhappy with the outcome. “The main problem is the internet. Nepal Telecom is under government possession and yet charges heavily. The speed is also not good enough to handle online classes,” Dhakal rues.

For one thing, Inaruwa lacks stable internet connection. Worldlink and Y Zone, the two major internet service providers (ISPs) in the area, have only just started optical fiber-based internet.

Next, measured against the average income of the people here, the ISPs are charging too much. A high-speed connection is expensive even during normal times. Now under a lockdown, buying an internet package has become harder still. Worldlink charges Rs 5,000 for three months, or Rs 15,000 a year, for a 25Mbps package (unlimited), the most common household package. Dhakal says many people in the rural areas in and around Inaruwa simply can’t afford them.

Worldlink local representatives refrain from commenting on the rates and service quality. When pressed, they answer that, “everything is mentioned on our website.” The other local ISP, Y Zone, too, refuses to comment.

One option for students is to buy mobile data, but that is even more expensive. The two major data sellers, Nepal Telecom and Ncell, have packages that are costlier than those provided by the ISPs. Moreover, their packages are designed for social media use on mobile phones, not for full-fledged online video classes. A Zoom Cloud meeting consumes anywhere between 500 MB to 2 GB of data an hour—and thus not feasible for mobile phones. Also, there is shortage of top-up cards for mobile SIMs during the lockdown, and online top-up is not a convenient method for most people.

Most students of schools and colleges in Inaruwa come from adjoining villages, where the quality of the internet is worse still. It is impossible for them to take part in online classes. Villages in the surrounding Ramdhuni-Bhasi Municipality and Koshi Rural Municipality don’t have broadband internet.

Problems don’t stop there. While most college students may have smartphones with limited mobile data, lower secondary or primary-level students rarely have them. And students from the villages don’t have laptops to take advantage of online classes. As a result, only about half of the students show up in the few classes that are being run online.

“There are 50 students in my class, but only 25-30 join the online Zoom meeting,” says Karlos Shrestha, a grade-9 student at Janak Smriti Secondary School. “My friends from villages cannot join because it is difficult to do so on a mobile phone. And they don’t have laptops.”

As a result, only a few schools and a handful of faculties of colleges are running online classes in Sunsari district. Yet those few benefiting from them are excited. “These things are new, and hence excite many students,” says Dhakal, the accounts teacher. “Yet online classes will be fruitful only with a wider participation.”

Shrestha, the student, thinks difficult subjects like mathematics can be interesting to learn online with the use of all education outlets at the teacher’s disposal. “We get our homework, and submit them, through email. Sometimes we get assignments where we have to memorize stuff,” he adds. “As everything is new, we sometimes face new difficulties.”

The excitement of a handful of students aside, most schools are struggling to run even traditional classes with their limited resources. It is beyond their capacity to arrange online classes. As there is no way of predicting the length of the lockdown, teachers cannot work towards developing online curriculum and gathering teaching material accordingly. Hence only a few higher secondary schools and undergraduate colleges are running online classes.

Nimesh Bhattarai, a BTech student at Sunsari Multiple Campus, says he finds online classes ineffective. “Our college has started online classes. But there is no real teaching, and even less understanding,” he says. Bhattarai adds that the best way to explain difficult topics is still face-to-face communication in front of a real classroom.

Interested in books? You may want to be a part of this Facebook group then.

bOOkahOlics, a Nepali Facebook group established in 2011, has become increasingly popular among the lovers of books and literature. With 15,000 members, it is a platform to explore reading and writing. Entry to bOOkahOlics is open for all. With apparently no vested interest and profit-making motive, the group conducts various events to enhance the reading culture, and to connect readers with writers. 

Saguna Shah, the founder of bOOkahOlics, proudly recalls the days of the group’s infancy. She, along with some of her friends, including contemporary writer Anupam Pokharel—author of ‘Rumi’ and ‘Sadguru’, among others—started the group to encourage reading. Gradually, readers and writers started connecting and the group grew.

The unique spelling of the group’s name immediately catches your attention. “Yes, the three O’s in the name is meant to be catchy. It has now become our identity,” says Shah. The group’s slogan? ‘Reading is not optional.’ Indeed.

With time many literary figures joined the platform and discussions became more regular and vibrant. In 2014, the group, in coordination with Nepal’s noted research institute Martin Chautari, conducted its first Chakati Bahas (cushion dialogue), which continues till date.

The popular Chakati Bahas is held at Martin Chautari, Thapathali, on the first Friday of every English month. Members gather around to discuss, evaluate, and comment on a literary work, particularly a book. The meeting focuses on thematic discussion and comparative evaluation.

Apart from nurturing the reading culture, bOOkahOlics team occasionally comes forward to help the community. After the 2015 earthquakes, they provided books, stationery, and sports items to needy school children.

During the lockdown, the group has been organizing online poem competitions and Shrasta Sanga Sakshyatkar (‘face-to-face with the author’), virtually. Ganesh Karki, an admin who also coordinates events, says over 400 poets take part in the poem competition on an average.

In Shrasta Sanga Sakshyatkar, every day a literary figure is invited for a live Facebook session. Karki says the event has been helpful in connecting readers with writers. Among those invited are Madan Puraskar winners Krishna Dharabasi and Yuvaraj Nayaghare.

“bOOkahOlics can be exceptionally helpful in helping you find suitable Nepali books, and even international ones,” says Dharabasi, a 2005 Madan Puraskar winner.

There are dozens of posts each day. “The kind of response we have been getting, we can say that people do like to read,” says Karki.

Members and followers talk about the inspiration they get from the group. “bOOkahOlics has made me fond of reading during the lockdown,” says Bishab Pokharel, 22, who is studying computer engineering in India. For Kathmandu-based IT student Dipesh Dhakal, 20, the platform is like a well-stocked library.