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Does the thought of cleaning your bathroom leave you anxious? Do you dread it and put it off till it’s too late and you left scrubbing and hosing down the entire space in a frenzy? Cleaning the bathroom is often not a chore that many of us enjoy particularly because we don’t know how to do it. It seems like no amount of cleaning can give it a fresh feel and there are just so many difficult to reach nooks and crannies that it’s almost impossible to be thorough. But that doesn’t mean you have to have a less than perfect bathroom or go through a crazy cleaning session every once in a while. There are many little things you can do, on a daily basis, that take less than a couple of minutes to have a neat and clean bathroom. We are here to give you some helpful tips.

Tip #1: Give it a wipe down after each use

Wipe the basins, towel rack, shower area or whatever it is that you use and get water on after each use. Keep some rags handy under the sink and just grab one to wipe off the water after you are done using the bathroom for whatever purpose. This way it will instantly appear cleaner and you will also be preventing pesky water stains in the long run. This simple trick will take less than five minutes but it will go a long way in making your bathroom appear fresh and clean. 

Tip #2: Clean the shower when you shower

Take two minutes to clean the shower when you are in the shower. If you share a bathroom, you can take turns to clean it as well. Simply use a sponge soaked in soap to give your shower area a quick scrub before you start showering and let the water from your shower wash it all away. You will be saving time and water both this way. Use an old toothbrush to clean grime away from the space between your tiles but don’t scrub too hard. Even if you do a small section every day, you will soon have cleaned the whole shower area with minimal effort.

Tip #3: Keep the counters neat and organized

One of the reasons why your bathroom looks unkempt is because the products you use tend to gather on the window sill or the counter over time. Don’t let this happen. Put back what you don’t use and install corner shelves for shampoos and body washes. Don’t keep them on the window sill. It will only gather dust and grime besides making your bathroom appear ugly. If you must have skincare products on the counter next to the bathroom sink, organize them in pretty ceramic or glass trays.

Tip #4: Don’t hang clothes to dry in the bathroom

Oftentimes, your bathroom tends to have an unusual odor. It doesn’t matter how many times you clean the commode or change the air fresher, there’s a lingering smell that you can’t seem to get rid of. This happens mostly in bathrooms where wet towels are left on the towel rack or washed clothes are hung to dry. One way to ensure your bathroom has a fresh appeal is to make sure you never leave wet clothes in there. It’s as simple as that.

Tip #5: Ventilate properly

Proper ventilation can ensure your bathroom’s freshness. If you use curtains in the bathroom, including shower curtains, make sure they are never left damp. Open them out and let them dry between showers. Open the windows and allow the bathroom to air out between uses too. Many bathroom issues like murky smell and mold can be fixed by simply ventilating the bathroom. If you can, have a fan installed.

Tip #6: Clean mirrors and glass with vinegar

Keep a mixture of vinegar and water in a spray bottle and use this to wipe your mirrors and shelves and enclosures made of glass. Take two minutes every evening to do this. Lightly mist your mirror and glass and then use a microfiber cloth to wipe them down. You can then use the dry side of the same cloth to buff it later. You can also use a scrunched up newspaper to make the mirrors and glass shine.

Tip #7: Tend to your cleaning tools

We use a range of items from brushes to sponges to clean the bathroom. But when was the last time you cleaned the cleaning tools? Not cleaning the tools can mean your bathroom isn’t as hygienic as it should be. The brushes and sponges will harbor bacteria and dirt so it’s important to clean these regularly too. But you don’t have to spend too much time or effort on it. Simply soak them in a bucket of hot soapy water and let them dry out in the sun every week or so. On a daily basis, make sure you are storing them away from other items and that you give them a quick rinse after every use.

Nestled within Nepal’s trans-Himalayan corridor, Mustang has long been a land of both abundance and scarcity. Snow-capped peaks cast long shadows over barren, windswept valleys. Ancient Tibetan Buddhist monasteries perched precariously on cliffs, their prayer flags fluttering in winds that have shaped both land and lore. Generations of farmers etched terraced fields into rocky hillsides, coaxing from the unforgiving soil apples so crisp they became symbols of Mustang’s ingenuity and perseverance. Life here did not defy nature—it moved with it. The cycles of snowmelt and monsoon dictated planting, harvest, prayer, and pilgrimage. But that delicate balance, honed over centuries, is now unraveling.

Mustang today no longer tells a story of quiet endurance, but one of escalating emergency. Winters, once defined by a serene blanket of snow that insulated life, now arrive barren and bitter. The snowpack—Mustang’s natural water bank—is gone. Springs, once fed by slow, predictable melt, now yield nothing. Fields lie cracked and fallow. Crops wither before maturity. Livestock, once the backbone of the local economy and culture, are vanishing from dust-hardened pastures. And tourism, once buoyed by Mustang’s stark winter beauty and cultural mystique, is fading as snowless landscapes and landslide-prone trails turn visitors away.

Here, climate change is not abstract. It is not a threat on the horizon or a projection debated by distant experts. It is a predator, stalking villages, devouring traditions, and dismantling livelihoods with ferocity. It has reshaped the land, emptied barns, severed trails, and muted festivals once anchored in the rhythms of a snow-fed world.

Mustang’s collapse is not an isolated tragedy—it is a mirror reflecting Nepal’s imminent future. This once-remote highland, long considered resilient due to its self-reliant communities and adaptation to extremes, is now ground zero for climate-induced disruption. If Mustang, a region whose people have survived for centuries at the mercy of thin air and sparse rain, is faltering so rapidly, what lies ahead for Nepal’s more densely populated regions?

Consider the lowland floodplains of the Tarai, already vulnerable to monsoon volatility. Or the mid-hill farms, where rain-fed agriculture sustains millions and any shift in precipitation wreaks havoc. Or the teeming cities—Kathmandu, Pokhara, Biratnagar—where overstressed infrastructure and unchecked urbanization compound every climate shock. If climate extremes can hollow out Mustang, the implications for these regions are dire.

What’s unfolding in Mustang is a warning shot. The snows that once defined its seasons are vanishing across the Himalayan arc, endangering the glaciers that feed rivers essential to 1.5bn people downstream. As temperatures rise nearly twice as fast in the Himalayas as the global average, Mustang’s parched orchards, empty yak barns, and shuttered homestays offer a preview of a broader unraveling.

And yet, this is not just about lost apples, absent snow, or displaced herders. It’s about what vanishes with them—ancestral knowledge, spiritual connection to land, and a model of harmony between people and nature that the rest of the world has largely forgotten.

When snow becomes memory

For centuries, the arrival of the first snowfall in Mustang marked more than a seasonal change—it was a reset for the land and its people. Snow blanketed apple orchards and barley fields, fed glacial springs, and sustained fragile mountain ecosystems. It signaled a time of rest and replenishment, while gradually releasing meltwater to sustain life through the arid months. Today, snowfall has retreated into memory. The landscape remains cold, yet eerily bare.

“The cold still cracks our skin, but the earth stays barren,” laments Lopsang Gurung, a farmer in Marpha, standing beside a deep, jagged well drilled in search of vanishing groundwater. This absence of snow has ruptured Mustang’s hydrological balance. Springs that once flowed year-round now run dry by early spring. Groundwater levels plummet as villagers dig deeper in desperation. Monsoon rains, once steady and life-giving, now arrive in violent torrents that erode topsoil and flood fields. Scientists report a 30 percent decline in snow cover since 2010—a change that has triggered cascading effects: mistimed flowering, disrupted migratory patterns, and failing crops.

Cultural life suffers too. Losar, the Tibetan New Year, once danced with snow-laced prayers and processions, now unfolds on dusty ground. “Our festivals feel hollow without snow,” says Pemma Dolma, a teacher in Lo Manthang. Communities are experimenting with solutions: artificial glacier projects and groundwater regulations offer glimmers of hope. But so far, these efforts remain too scattered, too under-resourced. Mustang’s snowless winters are not just a regional concern—they’re a red flag for Nepal and the global climate community.

Farming on the brink

Agriculture—the heartbeat of Mustang’s rural economy—is faltering. Apple orchards, once the region’s pride, now struggle to survive under an onslaught of climate extremes. Warmer winters disrupt the chilling hours apples need to bloom. Invasive pests and fungal infections thrive in erratic weather. Meanwhile, violent hailstorms repeatedly shatter entire seasons of hard work. Narayan Thakali, a third-generation farmer, recalls when his trees yielded eight tons of apples annually. “Now, we’re lucky to get three,” he says. To salvage his crop, he relies on synthetic pesticides, fully aware of their long-term damage to soil and water.

Declining snowmelt has forced farmers to depend on deep wells, some drilled 20 meters down. But groundwater, like snow, is vanishing. In some areas, water tables drop two meters each year. And yet, adaptation simmers below the surface. Farmers are trialing dwarf apple varieties needing fewer chill hours. NGOs are promoting integrated pest management to reduce chemical use. Solar-powered micro-irrigation systems are boosting yields in pilot villages. These efforts show promise, but without cohesive, national-level policies and investment, they remain isolated lifelines.

Vanishing livestock, vanishing traditions

Yaks, chyangra goats, and sheep once roamed Mustang’s high pastures in abundance. Their meat, milk, and wool formed the bedrock of rural life, while their presence anchored seasonal rituals and social bonds. Now, those pastures are drying up.

A staggering 60 percent of Mustang’s alpine rangelands have degraded since 2015. Warmer temperatures and erratic snowfall have altered grassland composition, replacing nourishing alpine flora with inedible scrub. Foot rot and other diseases, once checked by cold winters, now spread easily in moist, warming soils. Herders, without reliable veterinary services, either overuse antibiotics or abandon livestock altogether. Traditional migrations to summer pastures—once communal rites of passage—have all but disappeared. In Dhe, empty yak barns sit like silent tombs to a way of life vanishing before our eyes. Still, resilience flickers. Insurance schemes based on satellite weather data are being piloted. But the scale of the crisis demands far more coordinated intervention.

Tourism at a tipping point

Winter once drew throngs of domestic and international tourists to Mustang’s stark, snow-covered beauty. Between December and February, snow lovers, trekkers, and spiritual seekers filled local lodges, generating nearly a third of the region’s GDP. But as snow vanishes and trails succumb to landslides, visitors stay away. Between 2020 and 2023, winter tourism declined by 65 percent. Villages like Thasang, once bustling with homestays and guides, now face economic ruin.Communities are attempting to pivot. But progress is uneven. Poor digital connectivity, unreliable infrastructure, and a lack of funding for cultural preservation remain stubborn barriers. Declaring Mustang a Climate Emergency Zone could unlock vital international funding for green infrastructure and culturally sensitive tourism alternatives. Without it, the region’s tourism sector may collapse entirely.

Floods, landslides, and glacial peril

The July 2023 flood in Kagbeni was not an isolated event—it was the new normal. Fueled by an intense monsoon downpour, the Kali Gandaki River tore through homes and fields, leaving behind wreckage and displacement. Landslides and flash floods routinely cut off entire villages. High in the Himalayas, glacial retreat has accelerated, giving rise to unstable glacial lakes. These ticking time bombs threaten to burst and send walls of water hurtling into valleys below. Scientists have identified 11 such high-risk lakes in Upper Mustang alone. Although early-warning sirens and bioengineering efforts, like planting sea buckthorn to stabilize slopes, are underway, only 15 percent of vulnerable households have flood insurance. Without robust national support, communities are forced to gamble with their survival.

Seeds of adaptation

Yet amid the wreckage, Mustang offers glimpses of what climate adaptation can look like when tradition meets innovation:

Agriculture: Solar-powered drip irrigation, climate-resilient crops, and SMS-based weather alerts offer smarter, water-efficient farming.

Livestock: Hydroponic fodder systems, mobile veterinary apps, and drought-triggered insurance build pastoral resilience.

Tourism: Eco-certified homestays, resilient trekking trails, and immersive digital storytelling can renew Mustang as a sustainable tourism hub.

Disaster defense: Vegetative slope barriers, glacial lake sensors, and satellite-based landslide alerts can save lives.

A call to action

Mustang stands not only as a region in distress but as a living model of the future awaiting much of Nepal. Its unraveling is a choice: surrender to collapse, or turn crisis into transformation. A national climate resilience pilot in Mustang could unify scattered innovations and funnel investment where it’s most needed.

Global support—from NGOs, governments, and climate finance institutions—should treat Mustang not as a disaster zone but as a climate innovation lab. Communities here carry ancestral knowledge: how to read clouds, revive springs, and live lightly. Their wisdom must be woven into policy and action.

As a Thakali proverb goes, “A dry riverbed still remembers the monsoon.” Mustang remembers its seasons. If Nepal listens, acts, and invests wisely, Mustang might not only survive—it might lead.

The author is Phd scholar in climate and green finance : research focus on green finance and climate change

In Nepal, the journey of women in politics can symbolically be presented as a tug-of-war between progress and resistance. The deeply entrenched patriarchal norms limit the roles of women in political and public life. The Constitution of Nepal promulgated in 1990 brought about a glimmer of hope as Article 114 of the constitution mandated political parties to file five percent women candidates to contest in elections . But this did not guarantee that women would actually make it to parliament. As a result, between 1990-1999 elections, the percentage of women in parliament could not exceed six percent.

Nepal witnessed a surge in the number of female candidates in 2008 elections due to the provision in the 2007 Interim-Constitution ensuring a minimum of 33.33 percent reservations for women in parliament. This demographic representation celebrated an outcome of years of fight for equality, propelled by the decade long civil war 1995-2006. While it brought an increase in the demographic representation of female candidates, did it actually signify effective participation and empowerment, or did it simply mask the underlying systemic barriers that hinder the rise of women’s political power and decision-making?

Today, with the House of Representatives having a base requirement of 92 women (33.45 percent) out of the 275 total parliamentarians, we see how beneath Nepal’s democratic framework lies a troubling gap between promise and practice. The 33.33 percent representation quota for women was meant to be a minimum threshold, a starting point for inclusion. Unfortunately, many political parties treat it as a ceiling, not a base. This representation becomes even scarcer as we ascend the hierarchy ladder. In 2025, out of 22 ministries of the federal government of Nepal only one female is appointed a minister.

The quota system designed with the aim of democratizing opportunities were treated by the political parties as checkboxes they needed to tick. Political parties were responsible for exploiting the country’s constitutional provisions to empower women for their vested interests. By manipulating the loopholes parties are allowing the avoidance of the crucial measures mentioned in the regulations. The issue doesn’t end here women are placed in unelectable constituencies, sidelined from key decision making processes and reduced to symbolic placeholders. This challenge does not end once they enter the parliament. The complex interplay of socio-economic and institutional factors shape these women’s experiences and overall effectiveness in their work in politics.

Women continue to pass through various stages of scrutiny and criticism because patriarchal societal norms question their legitimacy as leaders. These factors not only discourage the women in the field but also the potential women candidates who wish to enter the political arena. Unaddressed challenges have consequences that extend outwards. On the grounds of tokenistic representation, without significance in participation, women may be continually excluded from significant policy formulation and lobbying processes—an antithesis to democratic governance. It also impairs the responsiveness of policies to address the needs of the diverse population. Additionally, gender imbalance representation in hierarchy further solidifies structural inequality and thus inhibits progress toward social justice and equality.

Overcoming these barriers requires systematic reforms and beyond-the-surface solutions. There is a need to wipe out the root sources of social-cultural, economic, and institutional conditions that make gender inequality by implementing such reforms and changing societal mindsets in a way that they eradicate such norms and values that perceive women as more subordinate than men. Only in that way can the future of this nation be remolded with the voices of women shaping its political destiny.

Nepal needs more than women in seats, it needs women in power. 

Nepal’s political landscape has undergone many changes—from the tightly controlled monarchy to a democratic system that promises freedom and representation. But what do those who have lived through it all really think? ApEx spoke to three senior citizens to reflect on the past and present. Their voices reveal the complex and evolving sentiments on Nepal’s governance.

Gopal Shrestha, 81

In the past, people used to say ‘Tanashahi’ to describe the era when there was no freedom, and no one dared to speak about the royal family. But now things have changed. People are free to express their dissatisfaction and openly criticize the government. Corruption existed back then too, but it was hidden due to strict media censorship. Today, we have the freedom to expose these issues, even those within powerful ministries, and that’s a positive change. I’m personally happy with the democratic system, and I sincerely hope that people will continue to become more educated and aware. But for democracy to succeed, we need honest and committed leaders—people who genuinely care about Nepal, not those who show up for six months and disappear without making any real difference.

Guna Kesari Phonju, 77

As a farmer, I personally feel life was better during the Rana period. They carried out a lot of development work, and especially during the reign of King Birendra, there were many notable improvements. We also felt safer back then, as the policies in place seemed more effective than those we have now. A lot has changed over the years, and to be honest, I believe a king should rule our country. It feels like a matter of national pride to be able to say we have a monarch. Without one, it almost feels like something important is missing and that makes me feel disheartened. But it depends who takes the throne. People should choose wisely and support whoever they believe is best for the country.

Shiva Narayan Gothe, 61

I have experienced both systems, and in my view, the monarchy operated in an authoritarian way, which many people didn’t like. Eventually, it was the people themselves who chose to bring an end to the monarchy, as they wanted change and hoped for a better future through democracy. But people seem disappointed. They had hoped for a systematic transformation, but what they see today isn’t what they envisioned. The same people who once rejected the monarchy are now demanding its return. This shows that people aren’t necessarily tired of democracy itself, but rather of the individuals and leadership they once believed in. Personally, I also think that monarchy should be reinstated—but bringing it back will not be easy. It will take time, effort, and strong public will. People had high expectations from democracy, hoping it would improve their lives. But as those expectations remain unfulfilled, dissatisfaction has grown and I too am disappointed.