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I remember Dashain as a tender embrace. My cousins and I would race barefoot across the terrace, jamara tucked behind our ears, tika still damp on our foreheads. Steel plates clinked under the weight of sel roti, stacked like golden memories. The air was thick with marigold and camphor, madal drums pulsing softly in the background. In those sunlit rooms, family gathered without distraction, fully present, stitched together by ritual and story. My bajai would hum a bhajan in the kitchen and say, “Aaile ko keti-keta haru, yesto Dashain kahile dekhcha ra?”, translating to these kids nowadays, what would they know of a Dashain like this? 

She said in a melancholic tone. Like she already knew we’d grow up into a different kind of Dashain, one wrapped in Wi-Fi signals and busy schedules, where the warmth of the sunlit kitchen would be replaced by the glow of a screen. 

Now, the air feels quieter. The plates are still full. The rituals still happen. But more often, they unfold behind screens, typically on WhatsApp calls, filtered through Instagram stories, caught in between video edits and captions. We say “hello” instead of “namaste,” “thanks” instead of “dhanyabaad.” And somewhere in that shift, the soul of the festival feels like it’s slipping. 

My mother also speaks of a Dashain that stretched across days, a sacred pause when neighbors became family and the night was carried by stories passed down through voice and memory, not typed out. Each gesture held meaning. Each offering had a purpose. Even the smallest thing, placing jamara under a mattress, sweeping the puja room at dawn, applying tika with both hands was loaded with history. Today, those same gestures are often performed without question, reduced to a quiet shrug: “This is just what we do.” 

For many of us, festivals have become curated performances. We wear the traditional clothes, we light the lamps, we take part in the puja but too often through the lens of a phone. Culture is dressed up for the feed. Aesthetics sometimes eclipse meaning. The perfect photo matters more than the imperfect moment. And in the process, something quieter, something sacred, begins to fade. 

Kathmandu itself is changing. Sprawling family courtyards have turned into compact homes. Siblings live across countries. Families are spread thin across time zones. The altar may now be a single candle, lit in between meetings or homework. The spirit of celebration has become a matter of logistics. What was once rooted in sambandha, deep relational ties, can now feel like a checklist: tika, thali, photo, post. 

Tihar, another example, used to arrive gently. Flickering diyos, whispered songs, the unspoken warmth between brothers and sisters. A festival of light that lived not just in lamps but in shared silence. Now, celebrations often boom from Bluetooth speakers and dance to algorithms. TikTok trends replace traditional songs. The ritual is still there, but sometimes, it feels hollow, almost like a paper version of something once carved in stone. 

I watch friends post stunning rangolis and perfectly arranged thalis, and it’s beautiful. But it also feels rehearsed. The whispered instructions of grandparents are replaced with online tutorials. The chants become short audio clips played from someone else’s phone. This is a new way to celebrate, but I constantly wonder: does it still carry the same weight? 

Language is part of this quiet fading. Our mother tongues like: Newar, Maithili, Tamang, Gurung, among others carry within them stories, humor, songs, and wisdom. But they, too, are softening. Yielding to convenience, to English, to what feels easier. I find myself translating in my head before I speak to elders. And when a language disappears, so does a whole way of understanding the world. 

To be clear, this isn’t about resisting change. Culture isn’t something to preserve in glass. It’s alive, which means it adapts, shifts, and evolves. I’m not asking us to put down our phones or cancel our posts. Social media connects us. It lets us share, remember, and create. It brings a global Nepali diaspora together in ways once impossible. 

But when it becomes the only lens through which we experience culture, we risk turning festivals into content and content alone. 

What I’m asking is this: can we slow down? Can we ask why we do what we do? Can we pause before we post, just long enough to understand? Can we listen to the stories behind the rituals before they slip through the cracks? 

Festivals don’t need to be picture-perfect. They need to be felt. Lived in messy, honest, deeply human ways. Culture doesn’t need to be aesthetic, but it does need to be meaningful. We don’t need to be perfect keepers of tradition. But we should care more about what our customs mean when no one is watching, than how they look when everyone is. Because when rituals lose their roots, they become routines. And when tradition becomes a trend, it no longer grounds us. 

Our festivals still breathe. They still carry power. But they ask us to meet them halfway. To be present. To care. To listen. To remember. Because if we keep culture alive only for the feed, what remains when the screen fades to black? 

Soniva Vaidya

Grade XII

The British School, Kathmandu

In recent years, words like “sugar” and “pressure” have become part of our everyday conversation. These terms refer to two chronic conditions: diabetes and high blood pressure (hypertension). Once considered the problems of the elderly or the wealthy, they have now become common across all age groups and social classes, posing a serious threat to the health and well-being of millions.

According to the WHO STEPS Survey (2019/20), about one in four Nepalis aged 15 to 69 has high blood pressure, while nearly six percent live with diabetes. Experts believe these numbers are likely higher today due to changes in lifestyle, diet, and increasing urbanization. Perhaps even more worrying is the fact that many individuals remain unaware of their condition until it leads to severe complications such as heart attacks, strokes, or kidney failure.

The changing face of health in Nepal

Nepal has experienced rapid social and economic transformation in recent decades. While infectious diseases and maternal health once dominated public health priorities, a new challenge is emerging: non-communicable diseases (NCDs). Diabetes and hypertension now account for a significant portion of the disease burden. This shift is largely driven by lifestyle changes. Traditional Nepali life involved walking long distances, manual labor, and eating simple, fresh food prepared at home. Today, many people spend most of their time sitting at desks, in vehicles, or glued to digital screens. Physical activity has decreased, and diets have shifted toward high-calorie, processed foods laden with salt, sugar, and unhealthy fats.

Urbanization has brought many conveniences but also new risks. Fast food outlets, sugary drinks, and packaged snacks have become common even in smaller towns. Stress levels have increased as people juggle work, family, and economic challenges. All of these factors contribute to rising rates of obesity, diabetes, and hypertension often affecting people at younger ages than before.

Why are diabetes and high blood pressure dangerous?

Both diabetes and high blood pressure are often called “silent killers” because they typically cause no obvious symptoms in their early stages. Many people feel perfectly fine while the disease silently damages their organs. Diabetes, characterized by high blood sugar levels, can damage blood vessels, nerves, kidneys, eyes, and the heart. Uncontrolled diabetes increases the risk of heart disease, kidney failure, blindness, and amputations.

High blood pressure strains the heart and arteries, increasing the risk of stroke, heart attack, kidney disease, and cognitive decline. Alarmingly, these two conditions often occur together -about two-thirds of people with Type 2 diabetes also have hypertension. The combination of these diseases significantly raises the chance of severe health events and premature death. This dual burden places a heavy strain on individuals, families, and the health system.

The human and economic cost

Living with diabetes or high blood pressure requires lifelong management. Patients need regular doctor visits, medications, blood tests, and lifestyle adjustments. For many Nepali families, especially those in rural areas or with low incomes, the costs of treatment and travel to health facilities are substantial. Moreover, when these diseases lead to complications—such as strokes, heart failure, or kidney failure patients often need hospital stays and expensive procedures. Many lose their ability to work, and their families face income loss and increased care responsibilities. This creates a vicious cycle where illness leads to poverty, which in turn worsens health outcomes.

Early detection: The key to saving lives

Because these conditions develop silently, early detection is critical. Regular screening for blood pressure and blood sugar should be part of routine health care for adults, especially after the age of 35. Unfortunately, many Nepalis do not have easy access to these tests, and awareness remains low. Community health workers and local health posts can play a vital role in educating people and providing screening services. Schools and workplaces are also ideal settings for awareness campaigns and health checks.

Simple steps to prevention and control

The good news is that diabetes and hypertension are mostly preventable and manageable with simple lifestyle choices. Everyone can take steps to protect their health:

• Eat fresh, homemade meals: Limit salt, sugar, and processed foods. Increase fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
• Stay physically active: Aim for at least 30 minutes of moderate exercise daily. Walking, cycling, yoga, or household work all count.
• Avoid tobacco and limit alcohol: Both increase the risk of these diseases and worsen complications.
• Maintain a healthy weight: Even modest weight loss can improve blood pressure and blood sugar.
• Manage stress: Practices like meditation, spending time with family, or enjoying hobbies can help.
• Regular health checks: Don’t wait for symptoms-check your blood pressure and blood sugar regularly.

What must the government do?

Individual effort alone is not enough. To address the growing NCD burden, Nepal’s health system needs strengthening:

• Expand screening and treatment services in all health facilities, including rural clinics.
• Ensure affordable access to essential medicines for diabetes and hypertension.
• Train health workers to detect and counsel patients effectively.
• Run nationwide awareness campaigns in multiple languages and formats.
• Regulate unhealthy food marketing and consider taxing sugary drinks and junk food.
• Promote physical activity programs in schools, workplaces, and communities.

Nepal has demonstrated remarkable success in tackling infectious diseases and improving maternal health. Similar political will and community engagement can help turn the tide on diabetes and hypertension.

Real stories, real impact

Consider the story of Ramesh, a 52-year-old businessman in Kathmandu. He never thought much about his health until he experienced sudden chest pain and was diagnosed with a heart attack. Tests revealed he had uncontrolled diabetes and hypertension both undiagnosed until then. After months of treatment and lifestyle changes, Ramesh now actively manages his health and advocates for others to get regular checkups. Stories like his are increasingly common. They highlight the urgent need for early detection and prevention across Nepal.

Our collective responsibility

Diabetes and high blood pressure may not cause sudden outbreaks or emergency situations, but their effects are just as devastating. These diseases steal lives slowly and silently, causing suffering for individuals and hardship for families. The good news is that with awareness, commitment, and coordinated action, we can prevent many cases and manage existing ones better. Everyone—individuals, families, healthcare workers, and policymakers—must come together to build a healthier Nepal. We have the knowledge and tools; now is the time to act. Let’s take control of our health before these silent killers take control of our lives.

As South Asia experiences a multifaceted regional rebalancing, the Indo-Nepal bilateral relationship keeps developing on the twin principles of economic interdependence, physical connectivity infrastructure, and strategic diplomacy. Trade and energy to border management and transit routes, the latest developments in 2025 represent a renewed vigour of engagement between the two neighbours—united not only geographically, but through history and people-to-people ties.

A deep trade partnership 

India continues to be Nepal's biggest trade partner by a wide margin, with more than 64% of Nepal's foreign trade volume. Based on the data of the Embassy of Nepal in New Delhi, bilateral trade reached Rs 1.13 trillion during FY 2022–23. Nepal exported products worth Rs 106.69 billion and imported more than Rs 1.02 trillion from India.

Nepal's major exports to India are refined palm oil, soybean oil, cardamom, carpets, iron and steel, and polyester yarn. Such commodities—some of which are manufactured under inward processing arrangements—have duty-free entry into Indian markets under currently prevailing bilateral agreements, subject to meeting prescribed value-addition norms.

On the import front, Nepal is heavily reliant on Indian petroleum products, vehicles, machinery, medicines, and food grains. The trade deficit is appalling, but Nepal is making efforts to diversify its export basket, with more focus on electricity exports, herbal products, and processed agro-forestry products.

Infrastructure and connectivity as catalysts

Trade facilitation has also been boosted immensely by cross-border infrastructure. Two Integrated Check Posts—ICP Raxaul from the Indian side and ICP Birgunj in Nepal—collectively process more than 50% of total bilateral trade volume, as reported by Nepal's Customs Department.

Additionally, strategic road and rail connectivity continues to be expanded:

Jaynagar–Kurtha railway is in operation, with additional extension to Bardibas underway.

Raxaul–Kathmandu and Jogbani–Biratnagar railway projects are in advanced planning stages.

The Gorakhpur Link Expressway, which opened in June 2025, brings travel time from Lucknow to the Nepal border down to 3.5 hours, benefiting border trade and tourism straightaway.

A historic connectivity project—the Motihari–Amlekhganj petroleum pipeline—has already changed the petroleum product supply chain. In operation since 2019, it exports more than 2 million tons of fuel every year and minimizes transport costs and losses substantially.

Energy: From impirt dependence to regional exporter

One of the most notable developments this year is the coming out of Nepal as a power exporter. Nepal, in June 2025, started exporting 40 MW of power to Bangladesh via India's transmission network—South Asia's first tri-national energy transit project.

This comes after India's endorsement of Nepal's export of more than 450 MW of power, mainly from hydropower projects, to Indian states like Bihar. A 2024 long-term energy deal obliges India to buy a maximum of 10,000 MW of power from Nepal within a decade—an ambitious but possible target considering Nepal's unreleased hydropower potential.

In February 2025, Indian Oil Corporation inked an agreement to export liquefied natural gas (LNG) to Nepal, a first in cross-border energy collaboration. The initial quantum will be small—240 tons a year—but the strategic value is significant.

Diplomacy and strategic engagement 

Diplomatic interaction between the two countries has picked up in recent months. India's Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri travelled to Kathmandu in August 2025 for top-level discussions with Prime Minister KP Sharma Oli, setting the stage for a state visit to India in September.

In parallel, home secretary-level talks during July concentrated on border safety, preventing trans-border crime, and coordinating responses to disaster—all high-priority areas for two nations with a penetrable and open 1,770 km shared border.

India has continued to prioritize its "Neighbourhood First" strategy, and Nepal has, in turn, reaffirmed greater cooperation across domains.

Historical foundations contemporary relevance 

India–Nepal relations are supported by official treaties—the 1950 Treaty of Peace and Friendship, the Treaty of Trade, and the Treaty of Transit. These have ensured institutional continuity, but both sides realized that they need to update their framework to accommodate changing economic and geopolitical compulsions.

There are occasional political tensions, but the structural foundations are stable. The economic path is one of the increased integration, particularly in the energy and infrastructure sectors. Cultural ties, religious bonds, and the open border access continue to underpin rich people-to-people relationships, especially in border communities.

Conclusion

As the globe leans towards regionalism and economic blocs, India and Nepal are heading towards a more pragmatic and fruitful era of bilateral engagement. Diversification of trade, energy dependence, and high-level diplomacy indicate that 2025 could be a watershed year—one that converts geographic proximity into strategic partnership.

Whether or not potential is actualized will rest on sustained mutual respect, open coordination, and shared vision towards sustainable development.

Jagathkrishna Yadav, journalism student, Dr B.R Ambedkar Open University, Hyderabad

Each planting season in Nepal brings not hope, but anxiety. It is not the weather, pests, or natural disasters that worry our farmers the most, but something entirely preventable: the shortage of chemical fertilizers. In a country where over two-thirds of the population relies on agriculture, and where farming contributes around 25 percent to the national GDP, this recurring crisis is not only unacceptable, it’s a warning sign. An empty fertilizer bag is no longer just a supply issue; it is a glaring symbol of institutional failure, poor planning, and a deeply broken supply chain that begins with global procurement and ends in rural despair.

This is not a seasonal accident. It is a systemic breakdown of policy, logistics, and governance that affects every stage of the fertilizer journey. From late international procurement to poor internal distribution, from political indecision in Kathmandu to black market networks in the Tarai, the entire chain is inefficient and unresponsive. The result: Nepal’s farmers are left helpless, food production suffers, and the country spends billions importing what we could grow ourselves if only we had the right inputs at the right time.

The most visible symptom of this failure is the infiltration of low-quality, smuggled fertilizers from India. In districts like Bara, Rautahat, and Sarlahi, these products dominate local markets during peak demand seasons. This parallel market thrives because the state fails to deliver. It is a market born not out of competition, but out of desperation. Farmers, left with no option, purchase fertilizers that have neither been tested nor approved, risking soil degradation, poor yields, and long-term harm to their land. These products often carry Nepali-language packaging to appear legitimate, but lack quality assurance, correct NPK ratios, or even basic labeling.

The official supply chain, at the heart of this crisis, is dysfunctional both in design and implementation. We have two state-owned entities handling import of fertilizer into Nepal: (1) Agriculture Inputs Company Limited (AICL), and (2) Salt Trading Corporation(STC). Between them, they are a leading importer of some 600,000 metric tonnes of chemical fertilizers (mainly urea, DAP and MOP) each year. The government supplies fertilizers to farmers through cooperatives at subsidized rates.

However, the theoretical framework rarely plays out in practice. Every year, tenders are issued too late, sometimes just weeks before the planting season begins. The process of floating tenders, finalizing contracts, opening letters of credit, and securing port clearance is slow, bureaucratic, and riddled with delays. By the time the fertilizers arrive in Nepal typically via the Kolkata port the planting season is either halfway through or already over. This lag forces farmers to either wait, reduce their cultivation area, or turn to the black market.

The international dimension adds another layer of vulnerability. Nepal heavily depends on imports from India and, to a lesser extent, China. While India remains the primary source due to cost and proximity, its export policies are unpredictable. When India restricts fertilizer exports to protect its domestic needs as it did in 2022 Nepal is left with few immediate alternatives. Unlike countries with multiple trading partners and buffer stock systems, Nepal lacks both diversification and contingency plans. It does not maintain strategic fertilizer reserves, which means even a small disruption in supply becomes a national crisis.

Transport and logistics further complicate the situation. Nepal, being landlocked, faces high freight costs and long transit times. The journey from Indian ports to border customs is often delayed due to procedural bottlenecks, truck shortages, or political strikes. Once inside Nepal, the distribution chain faces another hurdle: weak road infrastructure and lack of storage capacity, especially in remote and hilly districts. Often, even when fertilizers are available in Kathmandu or Birgunj, they fail to reach places like Rolpa or Bajhang in time.

This systemic failure has real, measurable consequences. According to recent trade data, Nepal’s annual agricultural import bill has surpassed Rs 360 billion, a figure that includes rice, vegetables, lentils, and wheat, all of which could be grown domestically if farmers were supported with timely inputs. In effect, we are importing food because we failed to manage the supply chain for the materials needed to grow it. It is a cruel irony, and an expensive one.

But this crisis is hollowing out trust well beyond the realm of economics. The farmers, destitute at the best of times, feel deserted by this over-promising state which is now busy with lies to rerun an election. As hope grows old and promises are not fulfilled, the inputs are not given. The disillusionment goes far deeper than farming; it spawns a lack of faith in governance, politics, and the prospects for their children to make a living in agriculture. This leads to large-scale youth ejection from farming either to migration or unemployment in the long run.

Fixing this broken system demands a fundamental and long-term change in policy. Fertilizer centralized procurement should be streamlined and an efficient/ predictable fertilizer distribution network established. Tenders should be given a larger window of time, six to eight months prior to the planting season, along with an associated timeline and accountability. Policy Frameworks should contain those Windows as an emergency measure so that State/Deptt. can make quick purchases in case of missing out on the stock/time. And, just as importantly, Nepal must reduce its vulnerability stemming from a single source country by creating relationships with other suppliers in the Middle East and Southeast Asia.

Infrastructure investment is also critical. Provinces and districts will have to improve their storage capacity. Both supply and demand could be tracked in real-time using the introduction of digital inventory systems. It is also focused on the road access to rural markets that must be addressed for not only fertilizers, but for broad economic development. The last mile of the delivery spectrum is maintained through cooperative networks which should also be trained and invited to become capable technically to get tech developed and inaugural incentives.

One without the other simply won't cut it. It is not just a case of isolated smuggling of fertilizers; it appears to be an organized trade involving loss of hundreds of crores and operates without any fear. What the government can immediately do is to wake up and now indulge in strengthening border monitoring, step up on-ground inspection of retailers, begin a public awareness drive or warn farmers of the dangers of using unverified fertilizers. Punishments pertaining to the smuggling and selling of substandard fertilizers should be enhanced, enforced.

In the long term, Nepal must begin shifting toward more sustainable and locally sourced alternatives. Organic fertilizers, composting systems, and bio-fertilizer technologies are underdeveloped but promising areas. Investment in research and farmer education can gradually reduce our overreliance on imports and create a more resilient agricultural model. This will also align with global trends toward regenerative agriculture and climate-resilient farming.

Nepal’s fertilizer crisis is not just about a missing product it is a reflection of missing priorities. Year after year, despite media reports, farmer protests, and parliamentary debates, little changes. Until we treat this issue with the urgency and seriousness it demands, the same story will repeat itself every season. Fertilizers will arrive too late. Farmers will turn to black markets. Yields will fall. Imports will rise. And the nation will pay the price not just in money, but in missed opportunity.

If  Nepal aspires to feed itself and grow through agriculture, then the fertilizer crisis must be treated not as an exception, but as a central challenge. It is a test of our governance, planning, and ability to deliver. And it is one we can no longer afford to fail.

Ravindra Kumar Yadav

Amar Prashad Gupta

MBA Global Business

SAIM College, Mid-Baneshwor