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Thamel stops abruptly after mid­night and so do business oppor­tunities of thousands of people who make a living there. Neither foreign tourists nor local revelers seem happy by this arrangement. “I like to go out and party sometimes on weekends but the timing is a major problem,” says Anu Shres­tha, who is in her early 20s. “Even the late-opening pubs shut down around 2-3 am and then we have nowhere to go. I don’t like going to hotels at night and I can’t go back home to disturb my sleeping family at 3 in the morning. If only they’d let us stay till the morning!”It is in order to address the griev­ance of the likes of Shrestha that the government, for a number of years, has been mulling a 24/7 open Thamel.

In 2015, a meeting between the Kathmandu District Administration, the Kathmandu Metropolitan City, the Thamel Tourism Development Board and Nepal Police decided to let businesses in Thamel operate for 24 hours. Ek Narayan Aryal, the then CDO of Kathmandu, had declared that Thamel would be open at all hours starting April 14, the Nepali New Year. It wasn’t meant to be.

Thamel is still the old Cinderella, with her strict midnight deadline—barring a few places that get to run till 2 or 3 am.

“The problem in Thamel right now is that Nepal Police is still understaffed and underequipped to give 24-hour security,” says Ashok Sen, co-owner of Purple Haze, one of the most popular live music ven­ues in Thamel.

Opportunities galore

Like most entrepreneurs in Thamel, Sen is a believer that open­ing Thamel for 24 hours will help lure in more revelers and tourists. Raju Damai, co-owner of Thamel-based Fire and Ibyza dance clubs, agrees. “It will increase the flow of tourists and give them more spend­ing options. More revenues for busi­nesses, more tax for the government and new employment opportunities for locals, what is there not to like about a 24/7 Thamel?” he questions.

Generally, the nightclubs in Thamel are allowed to open till 2 am, a couple of hours later than restaurants and bars because people visit nightclubs at the end of their outing. Both Ibyza and Fire have, however, taken special permits.

“Opening Thamel for 24 hours is not only about restaurants, bars and nightclubs. It’s also about oth­er businesses that cater to tourists in the area,” says Sameer Gurung, President of Thamel Tourism Devel­opment Council (TTDC), an NGO that has been promoting tourism in Thamel since 1989.

“Basic facilities like departmental stores, trekking equipment shops, liquor stores, ATM machines, med­ical stores also need to run 24/7. Only then will tourists be assured that all their needs will be catered to.” Gurung thinks that a 24-hour Thamel will perfectly complement the recent government decision to open the Tribhuvan International Airport for 21 hours a day.

Still more popular

The TTDC is mediating talks between 18 different committees in Thamel and the government for a final approval, to allow all busi­nesses in Thamel to operate round the clock. There are 150 registered hotels/guest houses/lodges, 100 restaurants and 60 bars and night­clubs in the Thamel area alone, according to the NGO. Gurung says the recent introduction of the con­cept of “walking streets” in parts of Thamel, where there are no vehicles allowed, has already increased the allure of the place, and “keeping it open at all hours will make it still more popular”. Gurung points to frequent government changes and equally frequent changes in police leadership as the main hindrance to this ambitious undertaking. The hope is that the ruling left alliance, with a near two-thirds majority, will be able to bring stability.

On law and order, “the prepara­tions are in their final phase,” says Dipak Pokharel, DSP of the Sohra­khutte Police Station that looks after security in Thamel, “In the mean­time, we do what we are supposed to: ensure that Thamel is safe for as long as it stays opens.” The Sohra­khutte station is preparing to handle more responsibilities that will come with the new status of Thamel.

No Khao San Road

But is everyone up for a 24-hour Thamel? Rabi Thapa, the author of “Thamel: Dark Star of Kathman­du”, a biography of the place, is not sold on the idea. “When people say Thamel has to keep up with or become like other tourist hotspots, I ask them ‘why?’. Thamel is unique. Also, which places are we compar­ing ourselves with?” he asks.

Thapa, who has been a regular patron of Thamel for a number of years and has travelled around the world, does not think the west­ern culture in Nepal is developed enough to offer round-the-clock entertainment. He also thinks it is important to consider the wishes of the locals who still live there. “Apart from that, Thamel is not like the Khao San Road in Bangkok. We probably don’t want a 24-hour tourist economy based on sex,” he adds. “We owe part of our youth to Thamel, and yes we were frustrat­ed that places closed early, but we always found ways to have fun, and get trashed anyway,” Thapa says.

But my interviews with various stakeholders in Thamel suggest that Thapa’s is a minority voice. Most say they are in favor of a 24-hour Thamel, if for different reasons. But if it is to happen, when?

The Assistant CDO of Kathmandu, Basu Ghimire, says the committee looking into this issue has a deadline of June 29. “Hopefully, all prepa­rations will be complete by then,” Ghimire added.

With recent developments like introduction of walking streets, 21-hour operation of TIA, no load-shedding, and Melamchi waters only months away, a 24-hour Thamel appears more and more possible.

Forty-eight rural municipalities in 37 dis­tricts remain unconnected by roads. As many as 259 Village Development Com­mittees (no longer administrative units after last year’s local level restructuring) are uncon­nected. (It’s from these VDCs that the centers of the 48 rural municipalities were fixed. The remaining VDCs were converted into 211 wards.) The government hopes to connect every ward at the local level with a road network. The government, through the Department of Local Infrastructure Development and Agri­cultural Roads (DoLIDAR) and the Department of Roads (DoR), has so far constructed roads spanning 70,000km throughout the country. Still, two north-eastern districts—Dolpa and Humla—are not connected by roads. Humla has seven rural municipalities; Dolpa has eight.

Altogether seven rural municipalities and 37 wards in Province 1, four rural municipal­ities and 17 wards in Province 3, 24 wards in Province 4, eight wards in Province 5, 26 rural municipalities and 107 wards in Province 6, and 11 rural municipalities and 66 wards in Province 7 are without a road connection. All the rural municipalities and wards in Province 2 are connected by roads.

Jeevan Guragain, chief of DoLIDAR’s Rural Agricultural Road Branch, informed that the government, with the aid of donors like the Asian Development Bank, the World Bank and the DFID, has been investing more and more in rural roads. “In the current fiscal, one billion rupees has been allocated for rural roads. Of this, Rs 550 million has been invested in roads constructed with public participation and the remaining Rs 450 million in roads built to con­nect rural municipalities and wards,” he said.

Dinesh Thapalia, a Secretary at the Ministry of Federal Affairs and Local Development, said that in the past, the roads to connect rural municipalities and wards were not a priority as there would have been few users of these roads. “But the ministry is now strongly lobbying the government to connect each rural municipality and ward of the country to a road network,” he said.

Disconnected

According to a recent master plan that DoLIDAR took three years to prepare, in Province 1, three rural municipalities and 16 wards in the district of Taplejung, two wards in Bhojpur, four rural municipalities and 14 wards in Solukhumbu, and five wards in Khotang are not connected to a road network.

In Province 3, two wards in Ramechhap, one ward in Dolakha, two rural municipalities and seven wards in Kavre, one ward in Nuwakot, two wards in Rasuwa, one rural municipality and three wards in Dhading, and one rural municipality and one ward in Chitwan are not connected.

In the same vein, in Province 4, eight wards in Gorkha, three wards in Lamjung, one ward in Tanahun, two wards in Kaski, two wards in Manang, six wards in Myagdi and two wards in Baglung are not connected. Similarly, in Province 5, one ward in Pyuthan, one ward in Rolpa, and six wards in Rukum are not connected.

In Province 6, four wards in Salyan, three wards in Surkhet, three wards in Dailekh, two rural municipalities and 10 wards in Jajarkot are without road connections. In the same province, two wards in Jumla, eight rural municipalities and 21 wards in Dolpa, seven rural municipalities and 24 wards in Kalikot, two rural municipalities and 13 wards in Mugu, and seven rural municipalities and 27 wards in Humla are not connected.

And in Province 7, three rural municipalities and 10 wards in Bajura, one rural municipality and seven wards in Bajhang, five wards in Doti, four wards in Achham, one rural municipality and three wards in Kailali are sans road links. Besides these, four rural municipalities and 23 wards in Baitadi and two rural municipalities and 14 wards in Darchula are not connected.

By Gopi Krishna Dhungana | Kathmandu

The formal unification of CPN-UML and CPN (Maoist Center) had been stuck for the past seven months because the Maoists wanted a ‘respectable’ place in the new party, which the UML top brass was not ready to grant. As Maoist Chairman Pushpa Kamal Dahal would later clarify, this meant a near 50-50 division of office-bearers between UML and the Maoist Center in all the important decision-making bodies of the to-be-formed party. There were a few other (albeit less important) sticking points: whether to recognize the bloody ‘people’s war’ in the new party statute, and whether the ‘sun’ or the ‘hammer and sickle’ should be the new party symbol.

The Maoist party’s demand for more office-bearers was understandable. It would have had a tough time whittling down its 1,099-member central committee. The new party, as per an earlier understanding, would have just 299 central committee members, and many influential Maoist leaders feared being ‘demoted’. Dahal had his own calculations. Before he agreed to a formal merger, he wanted to make sure that he either got to become the prime minister after two and a half years or secured the post of chairman of the new party. And should Oli renege on his promise on these fronts, he wanted to keep open the option of breaking away from the unified party.

According to new electoral laws, Dahal would need the support of at least 40 percent central committee members to break away, and UML was not ready to give such a large share to the Maoists. Yet after holding out for so long, KP Oli and UML leadership seem to have decided that the risks associated with a breakdown of the left unity far outweighed the benefits of curbing Dahal’s ambitions.

Thus the two parties have formally united. The central committee of the new party has been expanded to 441 members, of which UML will get 221 (54.5 percent) while the Maoists will get 200 (45.5 percent). Likewise, the powerful Standing Committee will have 25 members from UML and 18 members from Maoist Center. Dahal and Oli will jointly chair the party. ‘Sun’ will be the party symbol and ‘people’s war’ will be recognized. All the remaining issues will be settled by the general convention that is to be held within two years.

With the formal merger, Oli, his health permitting, has all but guaranteed that he will serve a five-year term as prime minister, which would be the first time this has happened in the history of democratic Nepal. But it is the general conven­tion that will determine the party’s future. It is hard to see Dahal agreeing to play second fiddle to anyone for five long years should he not get to be the party chairman after the general convention.

“On Friday, May 4, she contracted diarrhea, which got worse as the day progressed,” says Dawa Gurung, who was guiding Keith Eraland Jellum (79) and his wife Ann Carol Mc Cormac (71) on their trek to Upper Mustang. “On Satur­day morning, when I went to see her [Mc Cormac], she looked very weak. I imme­diately contacted my travel agency to arrange a helicop­ter rescue.” That was around 8 am. By the time the Simrik Air helicopter reached the res­cue site, it was already 2:15 pm. When the chopper final­ly arrived, Mc Cormac was quickly airlifted to Pokhara and heaved into an ambulance (at 3:10 pm). She was then rushed to the nearby Gandaki Hospital, where she was pro­nounced dead (at 3:45 pm).

It is impossible to say with certainty whether Mc Cormac would have survived had the res­cue helicopter arrived faster. But Dawa reckons she would have recovered because “even on Sat­urday morning she was coherent and could converse normally”.

The obvious question that he and Mc Cormac’s family are asking is: why did the rescue helicopter take so long to arrive?

Chhusang in Upper Mustang, from where the American couple were airlifted to Pokhara, falls in a ‘restricted zone’, which means all the aircraft flying into the area have to get pri­or government permission, even during emergencies. It is a lengthy process. First the relevant trekking agency has to request the aircraft provider, in writing, that a rescue mission be arranged. The helicopter operator then has to make the case with the respective Chief District Officer, following which the CDO faxes a request to the Home Minis­try. By the time the ministry gives its final go-ahead for the airlift, four or five hours of precious time will have been wasted.

Those involved in these rescue missions don’t under­stand why they have to go through the long bureaucratic process when time is of the essence. “Why can’t the CDO, for instance, be given the authority to issue a final permit for an emergency rescue?” asks Prem Thapa, the CEO of Simrik Air.

Just in the past year, a Japanese national died in a restricted area in the Dhaulagiri region while another pregnant woman from a restricted area in Gorkha also lost her life, as the rescue chopper failed to arrive on time in both the cases.

“I don’t understand why the Upper Mustang area has to be placed in a restricted zone at all,” says Sid­dharth Jung Gurung, the pilot of the chopper that had flown to Chhusang to rescue Mc Cormac.

Buddhi Sagar Lamichhane, a joint secretary at the Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Civil Avia­tion, informed that the restrictions date from the time of King Mahen­dra, when Nepal government was forced to impose a ‘no fly zone’ in some areas bordering China. This was because at the time the Khampa rebels were using Nepali territory in Mustang to wage a guerrilla war against China, with the help of the arms dropped by CIA aircraft.

“In my view, continued restric­tions, especially in tourist areas like Jomsom and Lo Manthang, no longer make sense. But then the final call is with the Home Ministry,” Lamichhane says.

“Due process has to be fol­lowed,” insists Ram Krishna Subedi, the Home Ministry spokesperson. “We have laws in place for a reason and unless they are changed our hands are tied.”

Asked if following due pro­cess is important even when lives are on the line, Subedi says, “The laws can be mod­ified as per the changing needs. But like I said, until that happens, we are bound to follow a proper paper trail.”

It was this protracted bureaucratic procedure that possibly cost Mc Cor­mac her life.

Siddharth, the heli­copter pilot, says he had a sinking feeling the moment he saw the ail­ing Mc Cormac at the back of his helicopter. “Her mouth was wide open and the husband had started sobbing inconsolably.”

When I called Dawa, the guide, on May 8, three days after Mc Cormac’s death, he hadn’t left the side of Jel­lum, the bereaved husband. They were still in Pokhara. I asked Dawa if I could I speak to Jellum on the phone. He replied that Jellum had a hearing problem and could barely make out what people were saying to him even in person.

Dawa informed me that the cou­ple’s son had landed in Nepal on the same day.