The Record Setters

Seven Summits Women (L to R): Shailee Basnet, Maya Gurung, Asha Kumari Singh, Pujan Acharya, Pema Diki Sherpa, Chunu Shrestha. Nim Doma Sherpa is missing in the photo.

Last week, I met seven women – we talked, laughed and shared their stories from around the world. While my stories spin around sightseeing, hotel stays and everything touristy, they talked about climbing mountains – the highest peak on every continent.

At a first glance, it’s difficult to fathom that they have climbed the highest peak on earth, Mount Everest, along with the highest mountains in Australia, Africa and Europe. By 2015, the Seven Summits Women, as they’re collectively called, are on a quest to  ascend the remaining three – the tallest points in South America, North America and Antarctica.

During the past two years, like the Seven Summits Women, I’ve talked to many Nepali mountaineers who have climbed the summits and set records.

I met Apa Sherpa, also called the Super Sherpa, who has climbed Everest a record 21 times before calling it a quit.

I travelled to Syangja in western Nepal to meet Sano Babu Sunwar and Lakhpa Tsheri Sherpa, who climbed Everest, paraglided from 8,848 meters and then kayaked all the way to the Bay of Bengal in India following the Koshi River in Nepal and the Ganges.

I also met Mingmar Dorji Sherpa, who started off as a porter but then assisted film crews and later started reporting about the mountains from the mountain peaks for state-run Nepal TV.

Then recently I interviewed Chhurim Sherpa, the 29-year-old who climbed Everest twice in one week.

It’s always fascinating meeting these courageous, adventurous people. And every time I meet them, I question what is it that makes them go atop a mountain, battling snowstorms, breathing thin air and risking their lives.

“You have to experience that yourself,” said Maya Gurung, one of the seven from the Seven Summits Women. “It’s some sort of addiction.”

I couldn’t agree with her more. But it’s not that I haven’t climbed a mountain. I know what it feels like – trekking up to the Everest Base Camp and also Kalapatthar seemed more than enough to me. The treacherous trek up to 5,500m, though worth it, is still very tough.I can’t think of going beyond that.

And here I talk to them who tell me their Everest stories as if it was just another trek up a small hill.

“I just sang a song all the way up,” Lhakpa told me of the Nepali tune that was his motivation – “Gorkhali ko Choro Hu Ma, Gorkhe Mero Naam (I’m a son of a Gurkha, Gorkhe is my name).”

While the Sunuwar-Lhakpa duo climbed, glided and sailed for the “sake of adventure,” for Apa, the 21-time record setter, climbing Everest, he said was “strictly a profession.”

“When I started climbing, it was to support my family,” he said. His latter climbs had a mission – to raise awareness about climate change and to raise Nepal’s profile in the global map through his record.

Others also share similar views — they all have their motives too.

The Seven Summits Women are on a mission to promote girls’ education and empowerment and Chhurim’s climb was centered around her childhood dream to summit the peak and to raise the profile of Nepali women mountaineers. She wants women to come forward and explore this business that is very much male-dominated.

All the mountaineers I have met have their personal stories, and at the end of the interview, I only get more inspired through their courage, determination, commitment and not to forget the success. I’m not sure if I can ever do what they’ve done, but I’m glad that my job allows me to meet people as such who are passionate about what they’re doing. And in the end, it makes me happy realizing that I’m also passionate about what I’m doing.

Stories

Seven Nepalese women have lofty ambitions to scale seven summits

‘Super Sherpa’ sets record with 21st ascent of Everest, then calls it a day

Childhood dream leads climber up Everest — twice in one week 

The men who leapt off Everest and paddled all the way to the sea 

From porter to reporter 

On the road to & from Palpa

In Nepal, travelling can be excruciating. However, spending hours on board an overcrowded bus, crammed in a small seat with minimal leg space as it makes its way up and down the winding roads that cuts through the hills can be an enjoyable adventure provided if you’re with a group of good friends.

And that was what my trip to Palpa in west Nepal was like — full of unanticipated adventure with a great group of friends.

***

The journey from Kathmandu started with the usual wait. We were told to be at the bus station at 7 am but we didn’t hit the road until 9 am. As we complained about the “hard seat” and the “eight-hour drive,” we were unaware of what to expect in the hours and days to follow.

The drive to Pala was scenic, and also scary. From a distance what looks like curvy lines sketched on the hilly terrain are actually the roads that connects towns and villages.

When we got to the bus station in Tansen, the district headquarter of Pala district, we were welcomed by further waiting time. We had to take this 13-seater van to Harthok, a small village that was our final destination.

As we waited for an hour inside the van, there were seven people who had been waiting there for almost three hours. The van wouldn’t move unless it was full; and when I say full, I mean without any space for anything or anyone.

When the van finally was on the road, there were 20 people plus a baby. There was this woman who started talking to us, gave tips and later kept insisting visiting the temple. Then there was this teenage boy who was sort of excited to see our “white” friend on the van. Then there was the man who was sitting in the middle and had to lean over two people to reach the window so he had could spit. And of course the baby, who thankfully didn’t cry at all.

As the van twisted and made swift turns through the narrow roads, my eyes were stuck on the window, trying not to think that a minor miss would lead us hundreds of feet down the hill.

But then, this ride and the twists and turns were nothing compared to the one we would be having the next day.

***

Speeding kills and all seven of us couldn’t stop thinking that as our driver sped his way through the winding blacktopped road that later turned into a dirt road en route to Rani Mahal, the 124-year-old palace in Palpa.

While a friend said that she felt like it was some sort of “death ride,” others thought of making some confessions or declaring our last wishes just in case. But we weren’t serious about that, of course not.

As our driver made swift turns, we screamed – it was like a rollercoaster ride. There were instances we thought that we might just miss that turn. And at times, while his eyes stared at passing women and not the steering, we were sort of concerned. But the driver was experienced enough to tackle those roads, and everything else, including the flat tire we had.

As we drove through the small settlements, we picked up people, the ones who needed a ride downhill. They included an elderly Canadian couple who were sightseeing in Palpa and locals, who suggested us things to see and do in their village.

On our return after our short hike, I think we were tried to feel the bouncy ride or notice the narrow roads. Our driver dropped us off in the same speed, and in no time we were sitting by the bonfire talking about “one of the most bumpy rides ever.” Meanwhile, we thought that we would have a smooth journey to Kathmandu the next day. Well, that’s what we thought. But not really.

***

The 12-hour return to Kathmandu was adventurous; I think that’s the best way to put it.

Thinking it would be best to take the night bus and reach Kathmandu early the following day, we opted for the 5 pm bus. The first 30 minutes was a joyride. The bus driver played his English play list—Rhianna and other dance anthems included—that tempted us to dance. It made us settle in a happy mood.

Soon the English songs faded and the Hindi and Nepali music became overpowering. Still no complains until the empty seats and the aisle started filling.

Usually night buses don’t cram passengers, but this had people everywhere – some were sitting on small stools and suitcases while others stood. It was pretty shocking that there were a few who were ready to stand up all the way to Kathmandu, and they did as well.

While people in the aisle shared their stories of the need to get to Kathmandu at the earliest, two women right behind my seat were the center of attention of the entire bus. People keenly watched them flirting with the man behind them (well, the man was flirting with them too), and listened to their conversations that revolved around music, movies, relationships and their personal lives. Well, by the first hour nothing remained personal. As the night progressed inside the bus, we also had to bear one of the girls picking on fight with some of the men in the bus. And we thought it couldn’t get worse until the bus was parked outside a small teashop in the middle of the highway.

The bus stopped exactly for two hours. From 1 am until 3 am, the driver took a long nap. To justify why he’d stopped and slept, he said that he didn’t want us to get to Kathmandu at 3 am—the city was roughly two hours away. Good point and pretty logical, but still it was pretty annoying to be inside a motionless vehicle for two hours. Good thing, we were close to a hotel that was serving tea.

Finally, after all that fuss, we reached Kathmandu at 5:30 am.

***

The journey was long and exhausting, but the destination was worth everything.

Palpa isn’t a famous tourist destination unlike other places in Nepal; it’s not the first place that comes to the mind like Pokhara. But it’s different: it’s a mix of nature and culture.

While a walk through the old Tansen bazaar is a good way to experience local culture and see old architecture, minutes away from this bustling town are small settlements, which is a good escape from the periphery of anything city-like.

We preferred to spend the few days in one of the villages in Harthok, and opted to stay in a local farmhouse, and not a hotel. A young venture, Srijana Farm Pvt. Ltd in Khasyauli – 5 is a locally-run guesthouse set up in a three-story mud house.

In fact it was a great choice – the local food and the hospitality was above excellence, and we were in the middle of a farm, away from all the dust, pollution and the chaos of the city. And this is what we actually wanted – a mini break.

So despite complaining about the journey and the excruciating bus rides, I think we’re taking comfort in the time spent in the village under the blue sky and starry nights. For us, this time, it’s the destination that mattered more than the journey.

Greetings from Kathmandu

So I have moved to Kathmandu, once again- back to my roots. This Nepalese nomad is on a temporary break from all the travelling, at least for a while.

Now, since I’m in this amazing city, this space will be home to my life and times in Kathmandu – this will include the good, bad and the ugly side of my hometown, and more.

Meanwhile, I will be continuing my reporting endeavours from Nepal. And of course, I will be on a lookout for another adventure in some part of the world.

For my past posts on Nepal, you refer to Notes from Nepal. 

If you’re on Instagram, you can follow me there: bibek_bhandari 

Delhi Diary: Discovering Iron Curtain

This could be a new discovery in Delhi if you have not found it already.

Tucked in the narrow lanes of the Indian capital’s trendy and bohemian Hauz Khas Village, a flight of stairs up of an old building, Iron Curtain opened its door about three weeks ago.

At a first instance you would want to call it a restaurant until you discover its hidden secret. It is also a mini movie theater with a twist.

When you enter the restaurant, there is a hint: Classic movie posters are plastered on its wall and there is also a projection of black and white silent cinema amid the posters.

But it does not end here.

Behind a bulky iron door adjacent to its main entrance opens Iron Curtain’s secret door to its cinema club.

When you enter, stripes of red lights are groovy. For me, it looked like a retro dance club.

However, it is a 15-seater movie theater with a 24-speaker system and a High Definition projection screen.

But the best part is the theater’s seats. They are all car seats bought from Old Delhi’s workshop, which are now a part of Iron Curtain’s seating area.

Comfy and cushy, it is much better than a regular theater seat. Little secret for you: there are two seats in the middle row that fully recline.

A creative project of cousins Karan and Shalabh along with friend Kanika, Iron Curtain caters to independent cinema enthusiasts.

“We designed it as a place to showcase independent cinema,” says Karan we sat for our private screening of Turtles Can Fly. “It’s a platform to showcase their work.”

The theater therefore hosts evenings and regular events like Shamina – The Short Film Club that promote independent cinema and also filmmakers.

But if you happen to be a customer at Iron Curtain, you might want to check in with the manager if you could get a screening.

Good food, drinks and popcorn coupled with a short movie, we could not have found a better way to spend a rainy evening.

Iron Curtain is certainly worth a visit if you are in Delhi.

Iron Curtain, 19, Hauz Khas Village, New Delhi. Contact: 26561164.

NOTE: This mini theater does not show pirated movies or is used for commercial movie screenings. It is used for private events to promote independent movies and upon request from customers screens movie from its few selected DVDs at no cost. 

Notes from Nepal: Living Gay – A Perspective from Nepal

It’s been an adventurous month working on this multimedia project. As a part of my master’s project, I flew to Nepal for this story: personal stories of what it means to be Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Transgender in modern Nepal.

If I have to sum up my experiences of talking to people and hours of interviews: for most Nepali LGBT population, it’s getting better. However, though legal battles have been won and the country’s sexual minorities have gained a legal status and recognition from the state, some are still fighting on a personal level while others are making an effort to be fully accepted.

During this month, I have come across some amazing people who are determined to live the life they want, regardless of their sexuality, and not defined by their sexual orientation. Despite, they have used their sexual orientation as a medium to make people aware about the sexual minorities.

Jyoti Thapa is a transgender woman, Roshan Mahato is openly gay and so is Sunil Babu Pant, the country’s only openly gay lawmaker, while Bhakti Shah is a transgender man and her partner a lesbian.

All of them are the face of Nepal’s LGBT movement.

In 2007, Nepal’s Supreme Court ordered the government to scrap all laws that discriminated against sexual orientation. The Court also mandated the government to form a committee to study same-sex marriage.

Nepal’s upcoming constitution, according to lawmakers will have a provision that says everyone has the right to marry, and marriage would be between two people rather than a man and a woman.

In May, Nepal’s Home Ministry decided to provide citizenship to LGBTI as “others,” and not under “male” or “female” category. Pant sees this as an implementation and acceptance of the 2007 Supreme Court decision by the government.

Amid all the success in the policy front, what it really means to be LGBT in Nepal? This project gives you a perspective.

Preview of the website [in progress] for the project

Notes from Nepal: Restoring Nepal’s stolen sculptures

Rabindra Puri is on a quest of restoring Nepal’s stolen sculptures. But instead of bringing them back to Nepal, he is replicating the sculptures.

Thousands of Nepal’s traditional artwork, including sculptures dating back to centuries, have been smuggled to foreign countries.

Along with nine other artists, Puri, recognized for his restoration of Namuma Ghar, the model house, in Bhaktapur, is now on a mission to create replicas of about 50 stolen sculptures. They will be a part of the Museum of Stolen Art, which Puri says will be ready in two years. The museum will be in the historic town of Panauti, about 30 kilometers southeast of the capital Kathmandu..

It took Puri more than four years of research before he started working on the project.  He studied thousands of pictures of the stolen images before deciding on the ones that would be a part of the museum.

“We decided on the basis of the sculpture’s value and artwork,” he said of the selection process.

Of the 50 sculptures, 10 have been completed so far and seven more in their final stages. Puri said his team is trying to finish the stone sculptures first before starting on the metal ones.

“We want to finish the tough ones first,” he said as he spoke of the difficulties of replicating centuries old sculptures.

And especially when the artists are crafting the sculptures on the basis of photographs, it becomes even tougher.

“It’s difficult to produce a three-dimensional artwork from a one-dimensional [photo],” Puri said.

Of the completed replicas include the Uma Maheshor from the 8th Century, Female Devotee from the 7th Century and the 18th Century Female Divinity sculpture, among others.

The sculptures, until the Museum of Stolen Arts is ready, will be a part of the Heritage Gallery  housed at the Namuna Ghar in Bhaktapur.

Puri said that his team will try to represent the sculptures in a way that “touches every Nepali’s heart.”

“The Museum of Stolen Art will showcase what we have lost and also incite the feeling of what we should do to preserve what we have now,” Puri said.

Heritage Gallery opens from 10 am to 5 pm. For more information, call 6613197.

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The last Sikh warrior

Nidar Singh Nihang engages with one of his students in Slough. Singh Nihang is thought to be the last surviving master teaching the dying martial art of Shastar Vidiya. Photo: Bibek Bhandari

On a sleepy Saturday afternoon in Slough, a borough west of London, Nidar Singh Nihang knows how to keep a group of young men awake.

Inside an empty hall of a church in London Road, Singh Nihang is an authoritative figure. As 20 men, most of them from the Sikh community, surround him in a semi-circle, he demonstrates some self-defence skills. With subtle hand and body movements, he exhibits a form of martial art that he has mastered over 25 years.

But more than 5,000 years after its inception, this form of Sikh martial art known as Shastar Vidiya could soon be limited to the pages of a history book. There aren’t many learners and there is a sole surviving master who embodies the technical and traditional expertise—Singh Nihang.

“My aim as a gurudev [teacher] is to ensure the art, in all its totality, survives,” says Nihang Singh.

In Slough, throughout the three-hour session, the man with an intimidating body structure standing at 6-feet-one-inch, explains about the various techniques and also history behind Shastar Vidiya to casually-dressed men, most of them in their traditional turban and beard.

Singh Nihang himself is draped in a blue robe with white trousers and sneakers. His sword and a traditional knife are neatly tucked between the white cloth belt wrapped around his waist.

His traditional get-up and a long beard with streaks of white hair might give an intimidating first impression, but he isn’t as fierce as he looks.

Singh Nihang is a combination of wit and a wealth of knowledge.

As the master sits down after his class, he is still energetic speaking about the art he discovered in 1984. He takes a memory train back to Jalandher in northern India.

Stroking his beard, flashing an apparent smile, he mentions his 80-year-old teacher who spotted him at a fair and asked him if he wanted to learn. A tall teenager with striking physical features agreed.

He tells the story, sprinkling some Punjabi words in between yet retaining his English accent.

“He gave me a stick and told me to hit him, but before I knew it, I was on the floor and he had the stick,” he says in a single sentence.

“The science of what he was doing, I didn’t understand then,” says Singh Nihang who then stayed back in India for 11 years. “But now I know the art and also the culture behind the art.”

For 42-year-old Iqbal Singh, a Bruce Lee fan, learning the Sikh Vidya is also understanding about his Indian and Sikh heritage.

“As a parent, I need my kids to know their roots and this is an all encompassing package to educate them,” an IT consultant and Singh Nihang’s student for five years says.

He defines his master as a “living entity and a torch bearer whose life is on a mission.”

Amrit Pal Singh, another student, speaks fondly of his master.

“The passion he has is addictive and he conveys it very well to his students,” the 25-year-old engineer says. “He is very inspirational that he dedicates his life to the art.”

However, not everyone agrees. Singh Nihang has received numerous death threats from Sikh fundamentalists who disagree with the ideologies of Shastar Vidiya.

But the determined and an assertive warrior gives an uncanny smile, explaining that his critics are not aware of the wider spectrum of their own culture.

He uses the phrase “intellectual rape” as the method he uses to tackle such problems.

Despite the mounting problems and challenges of saving a historical martial art with a cultural significance and finding a successor, he is still nurturing the knowledge he acquired in 1984. Finding a successor, he says, will not be an end to his pursuit.

“I’ll never retire,” he delivers promptly in a firm tone. “If I die and I can come back, I’ll train. We’re not meant to retire.”

Nepal’s last chance for drafting its new constitution

A mass rally organised by young Nepalis through Facebook calling people to pressurise politicians for timely drafting of constitution. Photo: Robert Price

One year. Six months. Three months. And again six more months.

In a series of extensions Nepal has yet again extended its constitution writing deadline, and this time for the final time.

The Himalayan nation known for Mount Everest and later on a decade-long Maoist conflict, was supposed to have a new constitution last year. But lack of unity and consensus among political parties coupled with changes in leadership has kept the country away from its new constitution.

A new constitution would define a new Nepal—a young republic after the 240-year old monarchy ended in 2008.

A new constitution would mean a hope for new beginnings—a new hope for the 26 million Nepalis living in the post-war Nepal after the civil war ceased in 2006.

But so far, that hope and dream hasn’t been able to materalise. What’s not working?

Initially it was issues like the integration of Maoist combatants in the national army. But now, that issue has been solved. Last month, in a historic deal, Nepal’s major political parties have agreed to integrate 6,500 of the 19,000 former Maoist combatants.

This should solve one of the biggest constraints for the constitution.

Something that Nepali leaders should consider is consensus and power sharing. We heard these so much that they have lost its value. But it they were to put these words into application, much of the problems would be solved.

In May, in a roundtable discussion at my office, a week before the constitution deadline, Gagan Thapa, a young MP, said, “Until and unless there is power sharing among the parties, this issue will not move forward.”

Also, the political leaders who have taken the entire responsibility of building the new Nepal should fulfill their responsibilities. These leaders from the older generation should also pave way for the new generation like Thapa to make decisions and lead.

As young leaders, Thapa said they don’t have the power to make substantial decision thus being in the backseat.

“Unless that thought of responsibility is sown in the brains of the leadership, it’s not possible,” he said of the meeting the deadlines for the constitution. “We’re leaders but on different layers, so we aren’t capable of making any decisions.”

After the uprising in the Arab world via social networking, Nepali youth also generated some momentum during the summer. They created a Facebook group asking people to pressurise the politicians. A group of young Nepalis gathered in weekends, rallied around the city and started advocating on the political issue.

More than six months later, though they’ve been successful in creating a discourse and bringing the online mass to the streets, they haven’t achieved what they wanted. The aliveness seen during the initial weeks seem to have settled down, if not died.

It’s just six more months before the much-waited constitution turn into a reality. Nepal’s Supreme Court has ruled this extension to be the last. And if unsuccessful, the current Constitutional Assembly will be dissolved and a new election held.

The country elected these 601 members in a historic election in 2008. They were supposed to draft a new constitution. They represented 26 million Nepalis. They constituted change and hope. And yet, in all these years, they haven’t been able to do what they’ve been chosen for.

In six months, let’s say there is another election. We elect another set of parliamentarians. But is there any guarantee that they’ll be different?

Nepali politicians and leaders have long lost their trust from the people. It’s high time for them to prove the people wrong.

We’ve waited enough. We’ve been playing the blame game for a long time. There’s still some time left and we still have hope.

Salaam Mumbai

The day: November 26, 2008.

The place: Mumbai, India.

The incident: At least 164 people died and hundreds injured as terrorists seized the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower Hotel in Mumbai and attacked several other places including the Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus, Oberoi Trident Hotel and Leopold Café.

And exactly two years later, I am reflecting of the time I spent in the city afeter the Mumbai terror attacks in 2008.

Exactly a year after, on November 26, 2009, I was in Mumbai; I was at the Taj Mahal Palace & Tower Hotel. Life was as normal as it could be.

As I took a cab from Bandra, a suburb in Mumbai, to south Mumbai where I had scheduled an interview at the Taj, reminiscence of the fateful day, also referred to as 26/11, stood evident on the streets.

Billboards stood as history books as passersby took a chance to glance in the super-fast metropolis. The media was flooded with stories. At the Churchgate Station, booths were set up to remember one of the darkest days of Indian history.

A cafe behind the Taj pays tribute at the first anniversary of the attacks. Photo: Bibek Bhandari

It was in fact a day—and the days that followed—that brought the financial capital of India, the 24-hour city abuzz with 12 million people, to a standstill.

But a year later, life in this metro was moving in fast motion. Though people reflected on the dreadful day, they also had to move on and catch up with the city’s pace: it was everyday life in Mumbai.

It’s amazing to see how people move on, how life moves on despite the worst situations.

In Mumbai, I happened to realise this.

During my three months in the city, I stopped by all the places that had been attacked. I was at the Taj and Leopold Café at many instances; I was at the Oberoi and took the train from Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus several times.

And every time I was there, it was amazing to experience the energy of Mumbai. Life had resumed at these sites of carnage. It was fast and bustling as ever. It was normal.  Mumbai had moved on.

But I don’t think moving on means forgetting. And I think Mumbaikars remember 26/11 is some way or the other, directly or indirectly, in moments of silence or memories of fear.

I salute the city and its people for retaining the energy despite the tragedy. For keeping it real.

Salaam Mumbai.

In a historic deal, Nepal to integrate 6,500 former Maoist combatants

After delays, deadlocks and five years of political drama, Nepal seems to have struck the right deal.

In a seven-point agreement, Nepal’s major political parties have agreed to integrate 6,500 of the 19,000 former Maoist combatants, Republica reports.

The former rebels have been living in separate cantonments across the country after the bloody conflict costing more than 13,000 lives ended in 2006. In an “April Uprising” in 2006 that can be compared to the Arab Spring, thousands of Nepalis revolted against the monarchy, transforming the country into a republic.

However, a new political system didn’t usher changes, as anticipated, for one of the world’s poorest nation blessed with rich natural beauty. The dream of a “new Nepal” was often muffled with mismanaged governance reflecting a murky future for the country.

After the king was dethroned and the constitution scrapped, an interim constitution came into effect. A Constituent Assembly with 601 members was appointed to write the country’s new constitution.

However, so far, Nepal hasn’t been able to draft its new constitution. Deadlines have come and gone and so have the leaders. In the past five years, Nepal has seen five prime ministers since 2008 when the country was declared as a federal republic.

None of them seemed to forge consensus on the making of a new constitution. The agreements that had to be made seemed larger than life. The integration of the Maoist combatants into the national security forces was one of the major hiccups in the entire process.

And this week, the country’s most hopeful prime minister, Dr Baburam Bhattarai, seems to have made his way through.

Republica, one of Nepal’s leading English dailies, has termed this agreement as “the most important breakthrough in the home-grown peace process after the signing of the epoch-making Comprehensive Peace Agreement on November 21, 2006.”

Despite all the cynicism and scepticism surrounding the deal, Nepali Times, an English weekly published from Kathmandu, writes, “We can all breathe a sigh of relief that the leaders have for the first time in a long time risen above their selfishness and partisanship to show some accountability to the people who elected them.”

This means that the Maoist combatants have new lives ahead, new adjustments to make and integrate into the real world.

According to the breakthrough agreement, the combatants who would voluntarily retire will receive between US$6,000 and $10,000 based on their position. There will also be rehabilitation packages between $7,600 to $11,400.

Another point in the deal mentions that the Maoists will also have to return the property that they seized during the armed conflict.

In the Los Angeles Times, Pushpa Kamal Dahal, Chairman of the Unified Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist), was quoted as saying, “The agreement is what the people have been anticipating for a long time. It is now our challenge to complete the peace process.”

And certainly, peace, progress and prosperity is what all Nepalis from all fronts is anticipating.

No one can justify if the blood bath and killing of more than 13,000 Nepalis were necessary. The Maoists will always be accountable for pushing the country backward, wasting a decade that could have flourished Nepal’s development (or not). Their reputation, like it or not, will always be associated with the armed conflict.

An editorial in the Nepali Times just sums that.

“Baburam Bhattarai and Pushpa Kamal Dahal may find it difficult to publicly admit that a war that killed 16,000 Nepalis was unnecessary. But as a party that now believes in the ballot, it’s about time they pledged their allegiance to non-violent pluralistic democracy. All the same, it would be nice if they could say sorry.”