Kopila Tamang, 25, from Jhor Mah­ankal of Tokha municipality on the northern fringe of Kathmandu wakes up at 4 am at least three times a week. Before the break of dawn, she embarks on a short trip to Balaju for business. But before that, she visits a few houses in her Tamang village to collect the produce from women of her family and the larger community to sell in the local market. With a 20-liter jerry-can filled with home-made liquor, Tamang takes public transport to Balaju where her customers, usually owners of small eateries and drinking shacks, await her. They get from her the newly-designated contraband: the famous Nepali rakshi.

Women from her community have been in the business of producing and selling homemade alcoholic beverages for decades. Many families depend on it for their livelihood. But this could all change with the government preparing to impose strict rules against the con­sumption, production and selling of alcohol. Home Minister Ram Bahadur Thapa has announced a crackdown on home-brewed and distilled liquor made for commercial purpose and police have been confiscating and destroying thou­sands of liters of home-made liquor all over the country.

Tamang and the women of her com­munity are also irked by police checks that have increased in frequency of late. As they carry their jerry-cans, they are frequently questioned before they reach Balaju and other designated places of sales. “I don’t know why the govern­ment wants to crack down on traditional liquor makers like us who use everything organic to make drinks we have been consuming for centuries,” Tamang says. “They should instead focus on big dis­tilleries which use chemicals and which are thus more harmful.” She talks of the women of her community who are harassed by police for carrying liquor in public transport and feels that it is unfair on part of the government to deprive them of their traditional income source.

One 20-liter jerry-can of rakshi costs Tamang Rs 1,300 in Jhor, which she sells for Rs 2,000. That is around Rs 600 of daily profit after the deduction of transport cost. The money she earns goes to the education of her children, says Tamang, who also has a day job as a nanny.

Tamang represents potentially thou­sands of women around the country who are involved in the traditional trade of distilling and brewing liquors out of millet, rice and other grains to support their families. When asked of the impor­tance of rakshi in the Tamang culture, she exclaims with a surprise, “Aamai! What are you talking about? We need rakhsi on all occasions, from birth till death. It is not considered bad in our culture and is used in religious ceremonies as well as for medicinal purposes.”

“Governments, laws, regulations, policing and disciplinary actions are part of modern society. But the existence of human beings predates everything,” says Sujin Lohorung Rai, a lecturer in anthropology at Tri-Chandra Multiple Campus. In bringing the new regulations, “the government has failed to address the human diversity, multi-cultural existence and plurality that has been present in the country since historic times.”

Hailing from an indigenous community of eastern Nepal, Rai believes that the government is neglecting the fact that alcohol, especially home-made alcohol, is a part of life and culture of many indig­enous communities. Giving an example of the Lohorung Rai culture, Rai says alcohol, or “hopthiwa” in local dialect, is essential for any “rite of passage”, from birth to death.

“People have wrong notion that cer­tain communities use alcohol only to get drunk, make merry and create nuisance. That is not true,” says Rai. “They see peo­ple fighting after alcohol consumption but they do not see people sorting out their differences, making new friends, building relationships and bonding over alcohol.” To give it benefit of doubt, the government may have brought the new alcohol regulations with the best of intent. But it would have been wise to first consult the communities that are most likely to be affected.