Submit your Article

Nepal is in the middle of an important shift in its mobility landscape. Over the past few years, the rise of electric vehicles has been unmistakable. Anyone who walks through the streets of Kathmandu today will notice the growing number of e-scooters weaving through traffic, electric microbuses beginning to serve busy routes, and an increasing curiosity among customers about EV cars. This change is not just a passing trend, it is backed by numbers. According to the Department of Transportation, Nepal imported more than 18,000 electric two-wheelers and around 3,000 electric cars in the fiscal year 2023/24. This represents an astonishing 223 percent jump, driven largely by government tax incentives. With fuel prices constantly rising and people becoming more conscious about long-term costs, EVs today feel like the more sensible choice for many Nepalese.

However, while we celebrate this transition, we are overlooking a crucial piece of the puzzle, what happens to the batteries that power these vehicles. The conversation in Nepal has focused heavily on promoting EV adoption, reducing fuel dependency, and encouraging clean mobility. However, very little attention has been paid to the lifecycle of EV batteries—how long they last, how they should be maintained, and what to do with them once they can no longer power a vehicle. If Nepal continues to expand its EV market without addressing battery management, the country may face a serious environmental and economic challenge in the years ahead.

EV battery management essentially covers the entire journey of the battery, from the moment it enters the country to the time it reaches the end of its life. Most EVs in Nepal use lithium-ion batteries, which generally last six to ten years depending on how the vehicle is charged, the local climate, and daily driving patterns. Managing this lifecycle properly brings several benefits. Batteries last longer, the risk of fire decreases, consumers spend less on replacements, and the country reduces the need for expensive imports. It also opens doors for new industries such as battery refurbishing, testing labs, and recycling units. Countries like China, South Korea and several European nations have already invested heavily in creating a circular battery ecosystem. Nepal, however, is just beginning to recognize the importance of this issue.

The growth of EVs in Nepal is encouraging, but it also means thousands of batteries will reach the end of their life in the coming years. This raises several concerns. Nepal still does not have a formal lithium-ion battery recycling plant. Most used batteries either end up in landfills, are sold to informal scrap collectors, or sit for months in a car service center (workshop) because no one is quite sure how to dispose of them safely. When chemicals like lithium, cobalt and nickel mix with regular waste, they pose a serious threat to soil and groundwater. The lack of a proper disposal mechanism is a looming environmental risk that needs immediate attention.

Another concern is the absence of strong quality standards for battery imports. Many importers simply rely on foreign suppliers without a national system to test battery capacity, cycle life, thermal performance or the reliability of the Battery Management System (BMS). As a result, some customers report battery degradation within just two to three years. Low-grade imports with weak BMS units also increase the likelihood of overheating and fire incidents, this is an issue several EV dealers have quietly acknowledged.

Consumer awareness is another major gap. Based on conversations with EV dealers across Nepal, nearly 60 percent of battery failures are linked to how users handle their vehicles. Overcharging, storing EVs in extreme temperatures, frequent fast charging, and driving in hilly terrains without understanding battery limitations are just a few examples. Most customers buy an EV because of fuel savings but are rarely educated on battery behaviour, which is the heart of the vehicle.

The after-sales ecosystem is also not strong enough yet. Battery replacement remains expensive and often becomes a deciding factor for customers considering an EV. A 3 kWh scooter battery costs between NPR 90,000 and 140,000, while car batteries can exceed NPR 15 lakh. Without local refurbishment centres, consumers have no option but to import new packs, increasing both the cost and the country’s dependency on foreign suppliers.

If Nepal continues adopting EVs at the current pace, it could generate nearly 25,000 tonnes of used lithium-ion battery waste by 2032. If the country does not prepare today, this waste could turn into a major environmental and public health crisis. Fire hazards in scrapyards, contamination from heavy metals, and loss of valuable minerals that could have been recycled are all realistic risks. Nepal promotes clean mobility internationally, but without proper battery waste management, this green transition may unintentionally create its own set of problems.

The good news is that Nepal still has time to act. A national battery management framework could guide the country in the right direction. The first step is to introduce a national battery policy that sets minimum import standards, mandates safety certifications, and establishes clear rules for end-of-life handling. Countries like India have adopted an Extended Producer Responsibility model where manufacturers are required to take back old batteries. Nepal can adopt a similar approach to ensure accountability throughout the supply chain.Secondly, the country should build recycling and refurbishment facilities. Developing units in industrial areas such as Hetauda, Birgunj or Butwal through a public-private partnership model could create jobs, recover valuable minerals, and reduce environmental impact. Until Nepal becomes fully capable of processing lithium-ion waste locally, the government can collaborate with India or China to send recyclable materials for processing under bilateral arrangements.

There is also significant potential in second-life battery applications. When an EV battery drops below 70–80 percent capacity, it may not be suitable for vehicles but still works well for stationary energy storage. These used batteries can support solar systems, micro-hydro plants, telecom towers, and even backup power for schools and hospitals in rural areas. For many remote communities, repurposed batteries may become a more affordable and sustainable alternative to traditional lead-acid systems.

To support these efforts, Nepal must build technical capacity. With EVs growing each year, the country will need more than 5,000 technicians trained specifically in battery diagnostics, thermal management, safe handling, transportation, and refurbishment. Institutions like CTEVT and other training centres can introduce specialized programmes to develop the required workforce. A strong technical base will reduce failures and give consumers more confidence in EV technology.

Finally, Nepal should introduce a digital battery registry where every EV battery receives a unique identification number linked to a national database. This system can track battery health, ownership, repair history, and whether the battery was recycled properly. It would also help prevent counterfeit batteries from entering the market and ensure greater transparency.

Nepal’s electric mobility movement is inspiring, but the country must focus on battery management if it wants this transformation to be truly sustainable. Acting now will help Nepal avoid an environmental crisis while unlocking new economic opportunities in the circular battery economy. Battery management is not just a technical requirement; however, it is a national necessity. With the right planning and collaboration, Nepal can ensure that its EV revolution remains clean, responsible, and long-lasting.

While the nation remains preoccupied with election-related politics, troubling developments are unfolding in the Tarai-Madhes region. Tensions between Hindu and Muslim communities have intensified in recent days, pushing the situation on the ground toward a fragile and vulnerable state.

Several parts of the southern plains have witnessed clashes and rising hostility, forcing local administrations to impose extended prohibitory orders and curfews to prevent further escalation. Although the situation has temporarily calmed following a five-point agreement signed by political parties and key stakeholders, past patterns suggest that the risk of renewed unrest remains high.

Under the agreement, religious protests and movements have been banned in Birgunj. In a welcome step, a Harmony Committee comprising representatives from both Hindu and Muslim communities has been formed to foster dialogue and prevent misunderstandings. 

While inter-community tensions in the Madhes are not new, the worrying factor today is their growing intensity and frequency—raising fears of wider and more dangerous confrontations. Over the years, disputes linked to religious processions, provocative social media content, and political mobilization have repeatedly triggered clashes, particularly in urban centers such as Birgunj. These incidents increasingly threaten the region’s long-standing tradition of social coexistence and communal harmony.

For a long time, the Nepali Army has cautioned successive governments and political parties about the deteriorating security situation in the region. Yet these warnings have largely gone unheeded. Compounding the problem, misinformation and disinformation circulating on social media continue to inflame emotions and provoke both communities.

Amid the recent unrest, Vice-president Ramsahya Prasad Yadav issued a public appeal urging citizens to refrain from spreading rumors, engaging in provocation, or resorting to violence. He warned that the misunderstandings, hostility, and conflicts witnessed in recent days have seriously challenged Nepal’s social harmony and pose a grave concern for the nation as a whole. Observers say  governments should carve out a multi-prong strategy to deal with the unfolding situation in Madhes.

Mental health is recognized by the World Health Organization (WHO) as a vital element of overall well-being, encompassing emotional, psychological, and social aspects that determine how individuals think, feel, and act throughout their lives. According to the Center for Disease Control, it is not just about the absence of a mental health condition, but it is also about the presence of well-being and the ability to thrive. 

WHO warns that globally, mental health issues are emerging as leading causes of disability and poor quality of life, with approximately one in seven people living with mental disorders each year. Mental health has increasingly emerged as a critical public health challenge in Nepal. A combination of high prevalence of mental disorders, limited access to services, and persistent social determinants has created a significant treatment gap that undermines individual well-being, productivity, and overall national development.

According to a 2023 analysis, approximately 3.9m Nepalis were estimated to be living with at least one mental disorder in 2019. This translates into a marked rise in the burden of mental disorders over the past three decades: the proportion of disability-adjusted life-years (DALYs) attributable to mental disorders in Nepal has nearly tripled from 1990 to 2019. 

A nationally representative study published in 2016 shows that among Nepali adults (aged 18–65), both anxiety and depression are “very highly prevalent” and often comorbid. Per a 2024–2025 study of over 12,000 individuals found gender disparities, women had significantly higher point-prevalence of anxiety (21.9 percent vs 11.3 percent) and depression (5.4 percent vs 1.7 percent) than men in Nepal.

Social dimension

A study found that social determinants significantly influence mental health outcomes in Nepal. Poverty, unemployment, early marriage, gender-based violence, and caste-based discrimination contribute to chronic stress and reduced well-being, especially among women and marginalized communities. Labor migration, involving nearly four million Nepalis working abroad, often leads to family separation, loneliness, and emotional strain among both migrants and those left behind. 

Women are particularly vulnerable due to restrictive social norms, financial dependency, limited autonomy, and the stigma associated with disclosing emotional distress or seeking care. Youth populations face rising mental health issues driven by academic pressure, unemployment, and social media-related stress, yet few youth-centered services exist.

Kohrt & Harper (2008) argue that stigma continues to be one of the most pervasive barriers to mental health care in Nepal. Strong cultural norms that attribute mental illness to “karma,” spirit possession, or personal weakness reinforce labeling, shame, and social exclusion. Those experiencing mental health problems are often called “paagal” (mad), a term that carries deep social stigma and undermines one’s dignity, identity, and social value. Such stigma not only discourages individuals from seeking care but also results in discrimination within families, workplaces, and communities. 

A study by Luitel et. al (2017) demonstrates that stigma is among the top structural barriers preventing individuals from accessing mental health services in Nepal. Conversely, upholding human dignity requires dismantling mental health stigma, recognizing individuals with mental health conditions as possessing equal inherent worth, protecting their agency in health decision-making, and creating the material and social conditions in which they can exercise substantive freedoms and participate fully in community and family life.

Cultural beliefs, stigma, and social silence

Cultural beliefs and social norms play a decisive role in shaping how mental health is understood, discussed, and responded to in many societies. Across the world, stigma often arises when mental illness is interpreted through moral, spiritual, or supernatural lenses rather than as a legitimate health condition. Such interpretations can influence whether individuals seek treatment, how communities treat people experiencing psychological distress, and whether families disclose mental-health problems or hide them due to fear of judgment. In contexts where collective identity and social harmony are highly valued, stigma can deepen because mental illness is seen not only as an individual issue but as something that threatens family reputation or social standing.

Cultural beliefs and social norms in Nepal play a powerful role in shaping how mental health is understood, interpreted, and treated. These beliefs influence not only how individuals experience psychological distress but also how families and communities respond to such conditions. It is evident that in many parts of Nepal, mental illnesses are not viewed primarily as biomedical conditions but are instead interpreted through religious, spiritual, and moral frameworks. These culturally embedded interpretations often reinforce stigma and undermine human dignity.

Traditional beliefs such as spirit possession, witchcraft, and the influence of supernatural forces remain common explanations for mental distress. Kohrt & Harper (2008) see many communities attribute symptoms of psychosis, depression, or schizophrenia to spirits being displeased. Such interpretations often lead families to seek help first from traditional healers including dhami-jhankri, lama, or tantric practitioners rather than mental health professionals and sharing to peers. While these healers provide culturally meaningful support, delays in receiving clinical care can worsen individuals’ conditions and reinforce the idea that mental illness is anomalous or spiritually polluted. 

Beliefs in karma that a person’s suffering results from past sins or moral failings further moralize mental health conditions and contribute to blaming the individual.

Stigma is deeply intertwined with the cultural lexicon. Individuals experiencing mental health issues are often labeled as “paagal” (mad), “sano dimag” (small-minded), “nasamjhine” (irrational), or “kamjor” (weak). These labels carry strong social judgment, implying unpredictability, incompetence, or danger. The use of such derogatory terms reflects a social narrative that reduces a person’s identity to their mental condition, directly undermining their autonomy, agency, and dignity. Such labeling results in “structural violence,” where individuals are excluded from education, employment, and social participation due to perceived inferiority.

The fear of shame (lajjā) and the desire to preserve family reputation (ijjat) further intensify stigma. Family honor remains central within Nepali society, and mental illness is often viewed as a threat to the household’s social standing. This leads many families to hide symptoms, avoid seeking help, or restrict the affected individual’s mobility. Women are disproportionately affected: because they are commonly blamed for causing disharmony, family problems, or “inviting” misfortune, their distress is seen as a personal failure rather than a health condition. In some cases, women are subjected to verbal abuse, restriction of autonomy, or even abandonment due to mental illness, reflecting highly gendered forms of stigma.

Shawon et al. (2024) studied mental health through gender aspects and found that women who express emotional suffering may be labeled as ‘overly sensitive’ or ‘weak’, while men may face stigma for failing to embody cultural expectations of strength and emotional control. In patriarchal households, women’s suffering is often minimized or dismissed as normal emotional fluctuation, linked to menstruation, pregnancy, or household stress. This silencing hinders early identification and reinforces unequal power dynamics. Because of these cultural pressures, many individuals opt for alternative healers before turning to biomedical services.

For countries like Nepal, where social stigma, poverty, foreign migration, gender inequity, and weak health systems intersect, the mental health challenge is even more urgent. The evidence reviewed in this article shows that mental health struggles in Nepal are deeply tied to vulnerability: individuals who are socially excluded, economically fragile, or culturally marginalized face disproportionate risks of distress and also bear the heaviest weight of stigma. These vulnerabilities do not exist in isolation but accumulate across family life, livelihoods, social belonging, and access to care. Understanding these dynamics is essential for promoting dignity-centered mental health interventions that respect cultural contexts while challenging harmful stereotypes.

The author is a graduate student of Global Affairs at the University of Notre Dame, USA

Nepal’s tourism sector has long relied on only a handful of popular trekking destinations. However, the need of the hour is to identify and explore new places with tourism potential. If we make the effort, we can find countless unexplored destinations across the country that can offer travelers even more diverse experiences. Recently, we explored one such place, a destination that very few people have heard about.

In the northeastern part of Lamjung district, in Gandaki Province, lies a magnificent destination offering breathtaking views of more than a dozen mountains, including Mt Machhapuchhre, Mt Dhaulagiri, Mt Ngadi Peak, and Mt Boudha. This place is home to more than seven lakes, each with its own name and unique stories, making it distinct from other popular tourist spots. This is the Mhe Mhe Pokhari Cultural Trail Trek.

We—a team of 32 trekkers from “Happy Hikers” and “The Walkers,” along with 35 porters, kitchen staff, and guides—officially inaugurated the historic Mhe Mhe Pokhari trail in Dordi Rural Municipality-7 of Lamjung district. Upon reaching Hilebesi, approximately 180 km from Kathmandu, around 100 villagers welcomed us with garlands and tika.

After the warm and grand welcome at Hilebesi, we traveled by bus to Upper Khinchowk, about an hour’s drive away. There, another group had been eagerly waiting for nearly three hours to greet us with lively cultural dances and music performances. Although we wished to stay longer and enjoy the program, fatigue caught up with us. After a hearty dinner, we retired to our homestays.

The next morning, after enjoying sel roti along with curry and tea for breakfast, we gathered at a designated spot to begin the trek. The air was filled with warmth and smiles as the mothers’ group bid us farewell, applying tika and showering us with blessings.

Soon after leaving the village and entering the jungle, the steep ascent, and the terror of leeches, began. However, the higher we climbed, the better the views became. On the first day, we trekked for about six hours, ascending from 1,200 m to 2,570 m. We set up our tents at Pauli Danda, where we also found a small shed. It was here that we caught our first glimpse of the majestic Mt Boudha and Mt Himalchuli.

By the time we reached our first stop, the sun was setting toward the horizon, casting a golden glow across the mountains. The moment was unforgettable, although clouds had already covered some of the surrounding ranges.

The next morning, we witnessed a captivating sunrise from Pauli Danda. The eastern sky glowed in deep shades of red and orange, and from the ridge we could see more than eighteen majestic peaks, Mt Manaslu and Mt Himalchuli to the north, and Mt Machhapuchhre and the Annapurna range to the west. After breakfast, we set off for our next destination, picking jungle fruits like chutro (berberis) and raspberries along the way.

The trail was so tranquil and enthralling that we were completely absorbed in its beauty, hardly noticing when we reached Khole Pokhari, an open ground rather than a pond. According to our guide, there used to be a beautiful pond here. However, it was believed that whenever two people went near it, only one would return. In other words, the pond was thought to claim a life. In anger and fear, villagers eventually cut down part of the hill and drained the pond.

Later, it was believed that the spirit had settled at Barah Pokhari, just below the hill, prompting villagers to build a temple there. Listening to these stories, we reached Thodi Danda, our third-day station. We set up our tents while watching an astonishing sunset. As night deepened, the temperature dropped, and because our tents were pitched on a slope, we struggled to sleep comfortably.

On the fourth day, barely ten minutes after starting our walk from Thodi Danda following breakfast, we reached a stunning spot surrounded by rhododendron trees and a wide green meadow. From there, the Manaslu Himalayan range stood directly before us, with Mt Annapurna visible to our left.

We spent some time taking photos and videos. As it was our acclimatization day, we walked only a short distance and spent the night at Komro Danda. Situated at an altitude of 4,000 m, Komro Danda was truly a wonderful place. The view of the mountains and the sunset from there remains vivid in my memory.

Despite its beauty and tranquility, the area suffers from a lack of water. Heartfelt thanks go to the porters, who walked nearly an hour to fetch water and cook for us. Recently, the local authority constructed a dharmashala there, providing a proper resting place for travelers. Once the water problem is resolved, the journey will become much easier. We spent the night at the dharmashala.

The next day, having been informed that the trail ahead would be long and challenging, we began walking soon after breakfast without delay. We had now entered the alpine zone. The trail grew narrow and demanding, but the stunning views of Boudha Himal made the journey feel vibrant and rewarding.

As there was no open ground to pitch tents, we had to walk directly from Komro Danda to Mhe Mhe Pokhari Base Camp to spend the night. We had noodles for lunch that day. The trail after lunch proved to be the most challenging and adventurous part of our journey. The weather was cold, and thick fog blanketed the surroundings. The path was rocky, narrow, and difficult, forcing us to walk while taking support from the rocky walls.

Each time we reached the top of a hill, another appeared right in front of us. After much hardship, we finally crossed two hills—Tare Deurali (4,350 m) and Chabi Danda (4,380 m)—and reached Mhe Mhe Pokhari Base Camp.

A dharmashala had been built there, so half of our group took shelter inside while the rest stayed in tents. On the sixth day, after walking for about twenty minutes, we were rewarded with the serene Mhe Mhe Pokhari Lake. According to a local guide, the lake got its name when a person, seeing its vastness for the first time, was so shocked and dizzy that the words “Mhe Mhe” escaped his mouth. In the Gurung language, Mhe Mhe is an expression used when one feels dizzy.

It is believed that those who make a wish upon reaching the lake will have it fulfilled. A few minutes of uphill walking led us to several other stunning lakes, including Narsingh Lake, Talwar Lake, Dhalkyu Lake, and the mother of all lakes: Dudh Pokhari. Each lake appeared in a different color, some green and others blue.

Some members of our group even scaled Mhe Mhe Peak (5,049 m), also known as Mhe Mahe Pass, with the help of a guide. Those who did not attempt the peak spent their time around the lakes, quietly soaking in the beauty and capturing photos and videos.

On the seventh day, after packing our lunch, we descended straight to Thodi Danda and spent the night there. The eighth day involved a long descent to Duwar via Barah Pokhari. As we reached the village, we found the villagers eagerly waiting to welcome us.

Witnessing the welcome ceremony reminded us that the cultural saying “Atithi Devo Bhava” (Guests is god) still thrives in Nepal. At the end of the trek, we realized that Nepal continues to hold countless hidden gems, waiting to be explored and shared with the world.