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April 25 marks the 10th anniversary of the deadly earthquake that struck Nepal killing nearly 9,000 people, injuring 22,000 and making more than a half million people homeless. It was the most powerful earthquake ever recorded to have hit the Himalayan country.

On April 25, 2015, when a 7.8 magnitude earthquake shook Nepal’s ground at 11:56 AM, the epicenter in Barpak village of Gorkha district suffered the most immediately. At least 72 people lost their lives from the village alone, while all the houses were damaged in the disaster except a few.

10 years later, Barpak doesn’t look like a village anymore. With completion of reconstruction, Barpak looks like a bustling town in recent times as all traditional stone roofed houses are replaced by tall concrete symmetrical buildings and a good flow of tourists.

In contrast, the neighboring village Laprak which housed the largest integrated settlement looks deserted even after a decade of the disaster. Initially, though Barpak was chosen for the site of the new settlement, the plan couldn’t be executed due to several reasons which provided Laprak a chance to shine and be the “model village.”  

However, the settlement built by the Non-Resident Nepali Association consisting of 604 houses (including additionally built) in Gupsi Pakha are in sorry state, with many locals themselves regarding it as a ghost village. Its difficult to spot people in the surrounding which was actually expected to be a vibrant and exemplary village of more than 2000 people.

The new settlement, located at around 2700 meters from the sea level, was chosen considering the geological studies and accessibility. Unfortunately, it failed to address the needs and expectations of indigenous communities of the mountain region. As a result, there are locks in doors and grasses at the entrance, holes on roofs, fading colors in two-storey buildings and deep silence around the settlement.

 According to Kishan Gurung, Ward-4 Chairman of Dharche Rural Municipality, out of the total houses, only 50 are filled with families who run homestays and hotels, while 50 other families keep migrating between the old village and the new settlement. “We are preparing to connect electricity from the national line, manage supply of drinking water and construct a gravelled road linking Barpak to Laprak. I am hopeful that villagers will move to the new settlement someday and Laprak will be known as a model village again.”

Luja Shakya of Inacho, Bhaktapur, was home on the fateful day of April 25, 2015. She was 15 then, just done with her tenth-grade finals, and, like her classmates, enjoying her holiday with her family. The ground started shaking just minutes before noon. It was one of the deadliest earthquakes to strike Nepal.

“Everything happened so quickly. It was terrifying,” recalls Shakya. He is 25 now, but she can remember the day as if it were yesterday. “I lost my dear grandmother to the earthquake. My family was devastated.”

That day didn’t just change Shakya’s life—it rewrote the fate of an entire nation. The 7.8-magnitude earthquake shook Nepal to its core. Nearly 9,000 lives were lost, tens of thousands were injured, and entire villages, cities, and centuries-old heritage sites crumbled. In a matter of minutes, what felt like normal spring sunlight turned into shadows of panic, dust, and despair.

“Our house wasn’t safe anymore. We had to move to the ground floor, which became our sleeping space. There were aftershocks after aftershocks, deepening our fear and reminding us how fragile everything was,” says Shakya.

The extent of death, damage, and destruction was widespread. Shakya’s neighborhood was among the least damaged compared to other parts of the city. Not far away, many homes were flattened. Narrow roads delayed rescue efforts. Help arrived slowly—if at all—exposing the government’s lack of preparedness.

Even today, Shakya doesn’t believe Nepal is ready for another disaster. “The cities are overcrowded with buildings—tall and risky. I’ve become more alert since then. I keep a small emergency kit at home. I never want to feel that helpless again,” he says.

Shakya isn’t the only one who feels this way. Ram Keshari Banmala’s entire family was trapped under the rubble of her collapsed house. “Neighbors pulled them out, but my brother-in-law didn’t make it,” she says. “Our home was gone, and we took shelter on a school ground for several weeks, surviving on donated food and essentials. To rebuild, we sold our land—for far less than it was worth. Financially, we were broken.”

Ten years on, the earthquake is still etched in Nepal’s collective memory. The ground shook for less than a minute, but its impact stretched into years—into homes, dreams, and daily struggles.

Help came, but not always fairly

In the days following the disaster, aid poured in from around the world. India, China, the US, and Europe sent rescue teams, medical supplies, and funds. But the government failed to distribute them fairly and effectively. Some families received more aid than they needed, while others got nothing. Corruption, favoritism, and a lack of coordination left deep cracks in the recovery effort.

The only silver lining amid the chaos was the solidarity shown by communities. “Our common tragedy brought us together. There was a deep sense of solidarity, and that was our greatest strength. Everyone helped everyone,” says Shakya.

Communities mobilized faster than authorities. They cooked meals, cleared rubble, and built temporary shelters.

For many, survival meant leaving. Thousands moved to urban centers or went abroad in search of work. According to the Department of Foreign Employment, labor permits surged after 2015, peaking at over 519,000 that year. Migration was not just a choice—it became a coping mechanism.

Loss of cultural heritage

The 2015 earthquake didn’t just claim lives—it erased heritage. Centuries-old temples in Kathmandu Valley and elsewhere collapsed. The iconic Dharahara Tower, a symbol of Kathmandu, was reduced to rubble. These sites were more than tourist attractions—they were emblems of identity, history, and faith.

“We watched history fall before our eyes,” said a Bhaktapur local. “These were more than buildings—they were part of who we are.”

Reconstruction has been slow. While the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) has rebuilt 1,320 monasteries and 626 temples, many sites remain unfinished. In addition to cultural sites, the NRA restored essential infrastructure across the country, including 7,588 schools, 544 hospitals, and 106 security facilities. But reconstruction is only part of recovery. The emotional and economic toll is harder to repair.

Lessons in preparedness

Nepal wasn’t ready when the deadly earthquake struck in 2015—and it’s not fully ready today. While building codes have improved, and earthquake drills and awareness campaigns are held regularly, cities keep expanding without proper urban planning. In rural areas, access to information is limited. Many people still don’t know what to do when the earth shakes.

Biseswor Shrestha, who is in his 80s, remembers praying as the quake hit. “I didn’t know what to do. I just stood still and prayed,” he says.

Seismologist Ramesh Guragain notes that reconstruction has made some places safer—but new areas, especially rural ones, remain highly vulnerable. “We need two levels of awareness: understanding the risk and knowing how to rebuild safely within one’s means.”

In 2015 alone, there were 58 aftershocks of magnitude 5 and above. The frequency dropped in the following years, only to spike again in 2023 with 17 earthquakes recorded—a stark reminder of Nepal’s vulnerability.

Guragain, deputy executive director at the National Society for Earthquake Technology (NSET), warns that while rebuilt areas may withstand another quake, new urban sprawls are ticking time bombs.

“While we have more resources now, awareness is still lacking, especially in villages,” he says. His warning highlights the dual challenge of maintaining reconstruction quality while addressing uncontrolled development.

The earthquake exposed structural vulnerabilities—both in our buildings and in our systems of governance. Emergency response was slow, policies were unclear, and aid distribution was flawed.

Ten years later, despite all the reconstruction efforts, there’s still much left to be desired. The cyclical nature of Nepal’s disaster memory poses perhaps the greatest threat to preparedness. As seismologist Lok Bijaya Adhikari observes, “We forgot the 1934 earthquake, and we’re now forgetting the 2015 earthquake.”

Remembering what was lost

While buildings can be rebuilt, trust in institutions, emotional healing, and a sense of safety take far longer.

Gopini Suwal is still haunted by the memory of the 2015 earthquake. “I was in the field when the quake hit,” she recalls. “My kids were playing by the river. I panicked—my heart froze. My brother had a heart condition, he couldn’t run. I thought I’d lose everyone. But it was my young nephew we lost. That tore me apart.”

In Bhaktapur, Ratna Shova Phaiju and her pregnant sister were trapped under rubble for an hour with a toddler. “We could hear people calling for us, but we couldn’t respond. That hour changed everything,” she says.

Similarly, Uma Gautam of Gaushala still grieves the loss of her two nieces in the Dharahara collapse. “They were so excited to visit Dharahara. One had just passed her SLC. I didn’t even get to see them one last time,” she laments.

Their trauma runs deep. Psychiatrist Dr Rika Rijal says trauma imprints itself in the brain. “Long after the event, people relive the fear. That’s why mental health support is vital. Recovery doesn’t just mean new buildings. It means healing minds and restoring hope.”

The earthquake may be history, but for those who lived it, the story continues every day. The silence in once-busy neighborhoods, the gaps in family photos, the invisible cracks in people’s hearts—these are not easily mended.

Remember, rebuild, prepare

For many, the earthquake still lives in their memories. We can’t stop earthquakes. But we can be ready. We can care for each other. And most importantly, we can remember—not just the day the earth shook, but the strength we found in one another.

Seismologist Adhikari says earthquake vulnerability varies from place to place, yet many people are still unaware of the risks.

“One of the most effective ways to reduce this risk is through awareness, especially by including earthquake education in the school curriculum,” he says.

Unfortunately, even after the 2015 earthquake, this step has not been fully implemented. One of the major reasons behind the deaths and destruction in the 2015 earthquake was poor house design and weak construction. Yet many still don’t follow earthquake-safe building practices.

To reduce future destruction, it’s crucial to train engineers properly in building codes and ensure safe land use practices when constructing homes. Because the next quake isn’t a matter of if—but when.

Reconstructed infrastructure projects by NRA

Source: The National Reconstruction Authority

Earthquake in the last decade (above 5 magnitude)

Source: National Earthquake Monitoring and Research Centre

*First four months of 2025

“All these so-called feminists and feminism are making motherhood undesirable.” I’ve heard this too many times from people who haven’t bothered to understand what feminism truly stands for. Feminism doesn’t scare women away from motherhood—what does is the expectation of doing it all alone. Feminism has never condemned having children. Instead, it seeks to reclaim motherhood by challenging its negative stereotypes. It says: “Have a baby when you’re ready, not because society pressures you,” and “Motherhood shouldn’t derail a woman’s career or dreams—mothers deserve equal support from their partners and families.”

“Feminists don’t scare women away from motherhood. What scares them is the silence in the room when the baby cries past midnight and no one else gets up.” Too often, society frames motherhood as the end of a woman’s personal and professional aspirations. The anxiety isn’t about the baby—it’s the fear of losing one’s identity, freedom, and dreams, since women are still expected to bear the full cost of parenting. Many now believe financial stability and emotional security are essential before having children, which is why they wait until they’re truly ready.

Saying “we’re pregnant” isn’t enough—that “we” must extend through the entire journey. While mothers undergo physical changes, the workload should be shared. When feminists highlight this imbalance, they’re not rejecting motherhood; they’re asking: “Why is it still unequal?” Feminism dares to voice what women whisper at 3 am.: “I love my child, but I need help. I’m exhausted.” Yet this is misread as negativity.

Silencing feminists won’t protect motherhood—the solution lies in listening and redesigning a system where no woman must choose between motherhood and herself. “She thinks it’s only her. We had kids at her age and didn’t complain. We survived without support.” But when a young woman says, “This is hard,” the world rolls its eyes: “We did it, so can you.” They forget surviving isn’t thriving. Just because past generations endured doesn’t mean women today should carry the burden alone. Feminism insists: “You shouldn’t have to ‘figure it out’ just because others did. Your life and dreams matter.”

Then there’s the silent pressure—”Have a child; it’ll save the marriage.” As if a baby is glue, not a human. Motherhood should never be a bargaining chip. No woman should be guilted into it to avoid divorce. This is the oppression feminism fights—where a woman’s womb is treated as a solution to someone else’s fear, and her choice is erased. When motherhood becomes a tool for control or saving face, that’s not sacred—it’s oppression. True feminism champions a mother’s choice—freely, fully, and with dignity. It doesn’t turn women against motherhood; it advocates for a version that values and supports them.

“You can continue your studies after a baby—what’s the big deal?” But it’s never that simple. Who cares for the baby during class? Who shares the sleepless nights? The constant balancing act? The culprit isn’t ambition—it’s the lack of support and shared responsibility that makes education harder for mothers than for their partners. Young wives face relentless hints: “When’s your turn? We want to see our grandchild before we die.” Everyone prepares for the baby—but who prepares her for the emotional toll? Feminism says: “You can be a good partner without being ready for motherhood.”

“We’ll take care of the baby—just have it.” But who defines “take care”? Is it just diapers, or life-altering decisions? What if the mother wants to be present in her child’s early years—with the time, energy, and peace to do so? It’s not about waiting too long—it’s about being ready physically, emotionally, and financially. Historically, motherhood was a woman’s “primary purpose.” Limited opportunities enforced this ideal. But times have changed. Today, women shape their futures through education, careers, and choice. Feminism has redefined motherhood—no longer about fulfilling others’ expectations, but about empowerment and shared responsibility. We’re moving toward a world where mothers choose motherhood on their own terms, embracing every facet of who they are.

With just three months remaining in the current fiscal year, Sudurpaschim Province has spent less than 20 percent of its allocated capital budget, raising concerns over stalled development and poor fiscal management. According to the Provincial Controller of Accounts Office, some ministries have spent as little as two percent of their capital allocations by March. The Ministry of Internal Affairs and Law has spent only Rs 5.5m out of its Rs 243.2m capital budget—just 2.29 percent. This stagnation reflects a broader failure in both budget formulation and implementation, with critical infrastructure and development projects halted and public expectations unmet.

The Ministry of Physical Infrastructure, with the highest capital budget of Rs 14.1bn, has spent only 24 percent, while the Ministries of Social Development, Agriculture, and Industry have managed to spend only about 10 percent of their respective capital allocations. Despite a change in government and a budget that was already delayed by three months, execution has further slowed. Expenditure figures from the Provincial Controller of Accounts Office show that capital spending across ministries ranged from two percent to 35 percent as of March. The only exceptions were the Ministry of Economic Affairs and the Office of the Chief Minister and Council of Ministers, which reported 50 percent capital budget utilization.

The Office of the Chief Minister and Council of Ministers spent Rs 16.7m out of its Rs 33.2m capital allocation, while the Ministry of Economic Affairs spent Rs 12.7m of its Rs 29m capital budget. Conversely, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Law has failed to utilize its budget effectively. “Only Rs 5.5m of the Rs 240m capital budget has been spent, just 2.29 percent,” confirmed Provincial Treasurer Basudev Joshi. “The situation is worse than in previous years.”

He emphasized that serious planning for capital expenditure should begin by June at the latest. Internal administrative issues have also played a role. Minister Hirasingh Sarki, from CPN-UML, faced a leadership vacuum after Secretary Sushil Baidya retired in Dec 2024. Baidya’s replacement was delayed, leaving the ministry without a secretary for two months. When Liladhar Subedi, Secretary of the Office of the Chief Minister, was given additional responsibility in March, he rarely attended office.

“He has barely been present—only seven days since March 4—and hasn’t taken any initiative,” said Keshav Chand, the Minister’s personal secretary. “No project moved beyond salaries.” The Ministry of Internal Affairs also oversees the Ministry of Communications, which has a Rs 9m budget. It includes Rs 2m for journalist capacity building via the Federation of Nepali Journalists, Rs 5m for institutional media development, and Rs 2 million for public welfare advertisements.

“I went to the secretary multiple times, but he neither rejected nor approved anything,” said Bharat Bahadur Shah, President of FNJ’s provincial committee. Secretary Subedi has reportedly clashed with staff, conducted random inspections, and failed to coordinate with the minister. His conduct led to calls for his replacement. “He harassed employees and failed to serve the public,” said one source within the ministry.

One significant delay involves a Rs 4 million project for an Armed Police Force (APF) base in Punarbas Municipality. Local resident Siddha Raj Ojha donated 11 katthas of land, but the project stalled due to Subedi’s inaction. “Despite my poor health, I donated the land to protect the border. The work hasn’t started,” Ojha lamented.

The ministry also allocated Rs 7m for a provincial office of the national news agency RSS, but the contract remains unapproved. “We submitted all required documents, but nothing has progressed,” said RSS provincial chief Siddharaj Bhatta.

Frustrated with the deadlock, Minister Sarki has formally requested that Chief Minister Kamal Bahadur Shah replace Secretary Subedi. Attempts to delegate financial authority to Deputy Secretary Dharmananda Joshi also failed after Subedi obstructed the move. Joshi has since requested a transfer. “It’s become routine to bring in people who don’t work and obstruct those who try to,” said Minister Sarki. “Without employee cooperation, capital budget implementation is impossible.”

An official from the Ministry of Physical Infrastructure revealed that most of their reported expenditure—24 percent—consisted of payments for liabilities from the previous fiscal year. “Actual spending for this year may be under five percent,” the official said. Following the Ministry of Physical Infrastructure, the Ministry of Social Development has the second-highest capital budget. But it has spent only Rs 217.7m—eight percent of its Rs 2.9bn capital allocation. Its current expenditure is 44 percent, with Rs 1.82bn spent out of a Rs 4bn allocation.

The Ministry of Land Management, Agriculture, and Cooperatives also faces underperformance. By March, it had spent only Rs 2.27m—8.82 percent of its Rs 272.2m capital budget. It spent Rs 526m of its Rs 2.64bn current budget, just 20 percent. The figures paint a bleak picture of budgetary paralysis in Sudurpaschim, where bureaucratic delays, leadership gaps, and administrative inefficiencies continue to hinder development.