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The process of thought seems quite complex but it is due to two systems of brains at work. The first system represents conscious thoughts like adding or multiplying some numbers. It is the system that you think you are. It takes effort to use this part of the brain because this system is usually lazy but is capable of catching and correcting mistakes. This is not the only major major system in play but there is also system two. This system two is mainly responsible for the unconscious thought and is really quick as it needs to be because of the copious amount of information coming through our senses. 

This system filters out the unnecessary information and only picks out the relevant without the conscious system in play. This system also fills in the necessary bits of our conscious thought from system one. 

Each of this system is related to our main memory structures, the system two quick interpretation is possible due to long term memory and familiarity including the library of information built in through our life. In contrast, system one exists entirely in working memory making it possible to hold only 4 to five noble things in mind at once. In demonstration we can remember only a few digits of a random number at once but if the number is familiar it is quite easy to remember. 

This process is learning and the process of learning is simply passing off information of short term memory from system one to system two to make it long term. In order for this to happen, one needs to actively engage with the information and with effort. In demonstration, tying up your shoelace for the first time was quite difficult and it probably took all the working memory at that time but now we don’t even need to think about it as it has already been passed off to system two due to continuous effortful engagement with the information. 

This is also known as muscle memory although it is not in the muscles it is still in the brain controlled by system two. Sometimes what we think of superhuman abilities comes down to incredible automation skills of system two developed through the relentless practice of system one.

Shreeshant Rijal

Class XII

KMC, Bagbazzar

Human settlements on earth have been divided into various categories—cities, towns, suburbs and far-off villages. As a human settlement continues to grow in size, open spaces start to become dearer. Does it mean that living in a city should necessarily be equal to living without sufficient open public spaces? Do we children and the generation ahead have to accept silently that we are destined to live with all the disadvantages that a bad urbanization brings along? Who is responsible for the ugliness and the mess in a badly planned city? 

We children are not responsible for that, are we? Yet, we are the ones who are affected the most. That is why it is important that we must seize every opportunity to raise awareness. Discussions about the value of open public places, such as city squares, parks, playgrounds, and stadiums, are essential. These days, children in cities are criticized for staying indoors. But hardly anybody bothers to ask if there are any dedicated playgrounds for children in their neighborhoods.

I used to wonder why open spaces were important—until my mother told me about the 2015 earthquake. That was the time when people realized the critical need for open spaces in cities. Kathmandu Valley cannot undo the mistakes it made in the process of urbanization, but cities like Tulsipur have a chane to learn from them.

Open spaces in cities offer us many benefits. They help maintain groundwater level through the seepage of rainwater. They provide children with a safe space to play. Parks and their greenery can promote internal tourism and help clean the air. Open spaces can also serve as venues for various cultural shows and social gatherings. 

In conclusion, while planning and developing a city, the government should not ignore any aspect of urbanization that contributes to livability. 

Saanvi Dhital

Grade VI 

Sanskar Pathshala, Dang

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.