My journey with sharbat began on a bright day in a television studio. During an interview on Nepal Television, the discussion touched many topics, but my heart kept returning to one subject—our humble, refreshing, and deeply traditional drink: sharbat. It was then I realized this drink is more than a thirst-quencher. It’s a symbol of our identity and a reflection of our heritage. 

The word ‘sharbat’ comes from the Arabic word sharba, meaning ‘a sip’ or ‘something to drink.’ Its roots trace back to ancient Persia and the Arab world, where it was more than a cool refreshment. It was believed to have healing powers. Scholars and traditional healers used ingredients like rose, lemon, cardamom, and fennel to prepare these sweet herbal drinks.

As it traveled across the Islamic world—from Baghdad to Cairo, and later into the Ottoman Empire and Mughal India—sharbat was refined and reinvented. In India, Emperor Babur famously had ice brought from the mountains of Kabul just to enjoy sharbat in the summer heat. Regional ingredients like bael fruit and raw mango gave rise to new variations like aam panna.

Sharbat eventually made its way into Nepali kitchens and local culture. Here, it evolved again—crafted from ingredients found in our own soil, like khudo (traditional sugarcane molasses) and native lemons such as kagati and sun kagati. Today, sharbat is part of many Nepali households, but it deserves a more honored place in our national identity.

Nepal is a land rich in natural beauty, biodiversity, and culture. But some of our simplest traditions remain underappreciated. Sharbat is one of them. In a world full of imported soft drinks that are unhealthy, expensive, and harmful to local economies, sharbat offers a refreshing and sustainable alternative.

It’s healthy, easy to make, and full of local flavors. It energizes and cools the body, thanks to its natural ingredients. The molasses (khudo) provides organic sweetness, while the fresh lemon juice adds a zesty boost of vitamin C—good for digestion and immunity.

And sharbat is versatile. You can serve it chilled at a roadside tea shop, mix it into a cocktail at a luxury hotel, or enjoy it with momo during family gatherings. It belongs everywhere.

Here is a basic recipe that anyone can make at home, in restaurants, or at events:

Ingredients:

• 1 liter of natural or spring water
• 2–3 tablespoons of khudo (sugarcane molasses)
• Juice of 3–4 kagati or sun kagati lemons
• Optional: A few crushed mint leaves or a dash of rose syrup

Instructions:

• Mix water and khudo until fully dissolved.
• Add freshly squeezed lemon juice.
• (Optional) Add mint or rose syrup for extra flavor.
• Chill in the fridge or serve over ice.

This is more than just a recipe—it’s a taste of Nepal’s soil and spirit.

On that day at Nepal Television, I found myself passionately speaking about why sharbat should be served in every embassy, hotel, and street corner in the country. Imagine welcoming foreign guests at international conferences with a glass of chilled sharbat. Picture tourists arriving at resorts in Chitwan or trekking lodges in the Himalayas, greeted with this simple, delightful drink. What better way to share a piece of our culture?

With rising health concerns around sugary sodas and energy drinks, Nepali sharbat stands out as a natural and nutritious alternative. It hydrates, refreshes, and nourishes. It’s free from chemicals and full of the natural goodness of local lemons and molasses.

Sharbat can be enjoyed any time of day. It doesn’t spike blood sugar the way sodas do. And because it uses ingredients found across Nepal, it supports a healthy lifestyle while also supporting local farmers.

Promoting sharbat means investing in Nepal’s local economy. If more people start using khudo, it increases demand for locally grown sugarcane. If restaurants and hotels serve lemon-based sharbat, it helps citrus farmers. If street vendors sell sharbat, they gain income while sharing local flavors with visitors.

More than that, it’s about pride. In a globalized world dominated by multinational brands, serving sharbat is a way of saying: ‘This is who we are.’ It’s our version of Japan’s matcha tea, India’s lassi, or Qatar’s lemon-mint. It’s uniquely Nepali.

During the FIFA World Cup in Qatar, I was part of the culinary team that helped upgrade the Qatar Airways inflight menu. One of the highlights was introducing the Qatari drink ‘lemon mint’—simple, refreshing, and rooted in identity. That moment made me think: why shouldn’t Nepal have its own national drink?

We already do. It’s in our homes, our farms, and our traditions. It’s called sarbat—our version of sharbat.

This is more than a campaign for a drink. It’s a campaign for national pride, health, and economic empowerment. I urge families, restaurants, tourism operators, and government officials to make sharbat part of everyday life.

Let’s serve it at international events. Let’s include it on hotel menus. Let’s encourage farmers to grow more lemons and sugarcane. Let’s support local producers of khudo. Let’s inspire young entrepreneurs to bottle Nepali sharbat and sell it to the world.

Every glass of sharbat we serve is a step toward self-reliance. It’s a drink that quenches more than thirst—it speaks to our roots, our resilience, and our rich culture. It’s affordable, accessible, and full of potential.

The author is a London-based R&D chef