Free Writing II
The High-Stakes Chapter

Walk into any school in Kathmandu today and you will find rows of students hunched over smartphones. Walk into a library in the same city and you will find empty chairs, dusty shelves, and a librarian with little to do. Nepal's reading culture is in crisis — and the consequences for the next generation may be irreversible.

A recent survey by the Nepal Reading Foundation found that only 12% of secondary school students read any book for pleasure outside of their school textbooks in the past year. "Students read to pass exams, not to grow," said Dr Anita Rai, an educational psychologist at Tribhuvan University. "This is creating a generation that can recall facts but cannot think critically."

The causes are multiple: the exam-focused curriculum leaves no time for voluntary reading, public libraries are poorly funded and stocked, and digital entertainment offers far more immediate reward than a book.

But the solution is equally clear. Schools must dedicate at least two periods per week to free reading. Libraries must be restocked with contemporary, relevant titles. And parents must model the habit themselves — for children who see adults reading will become readers. The page is still mightier than the screen. We must prove it.

Rating: 4/5

Chhakka Panja is more than a comedy — it is a sharp, affectionate portrait of the contradictions at the heart of Nepali society, wrapped in laugh-out-loud humour that never loses sight of the human truth beneath. Directed with remarkable confidence by Deepa Shree Niraula, this film announced the arrival of a mature commercial Nepali cinema.

The film centres on Raja (Deepak Raj Giri), a wealthy but morally unreliable feudal figure from a migrant Karnali family, whose hypocrisies collide spectacularly with the lives of those around him. The screenplay weaves multiple storylines together — romance, betrayal, migration, and redemption — with a skill that keeps the audience engaged without overwhelming them.

What makes Chhakka Panja genuinely memorable is its social commentary. The film does not merely entertain — it holds a mirror to the exploitation of the poor by the privileged, the absurdity of social pretensions, and the quiet dignity of ordinary Nepali life. Deepak Raj Giri and Kedar Ghimire deliver performances of real comic precision, and Priyanka Karki brings unexpected emotional weight to her role.

The film does occasionally sacrifice narrative tightness for comic set-pieces, and some subplots feel underwritten. Nevertheless, Chhakka Panja remains a landmark of Nepali cinema. I would strongly recommend it to anyone seeking an entertaining yet thought-provoking insight into the cultural fabric of Nepal.

Animal Farm is a masterpiece of political allegory — a slim, deceptively simple fable that carries the weight of an entire philosophy within its 100 pages. Written in 1945, it remains one of the most necessary books of the twentieth century, and its lessons grow more urgent with every passing year.

The story follows the animals of Manor Farm who, inspired by an idealistic vision of equality, overthrow their human farmer. What begins as a revolution of hope gradually, horrifyingly, transforms into a tyranny that mirrors the one it replaced. Orwell's genius is in the simplicity — by using farm animals, he makes his devastating critique of totalitarianism accessible without sacrificing its power.

The characterisation is extraordinary: Napoleon, the manipulative pig who embodies political opportunism; Boxer, the loyal working horse who represents the deceived masses; Squealer, the propagandist. Each is drawn with just enough detail to be universal. The prose is lucid, precise, and mercilessly ironic.

Animal Farm is essential reading for anyone who wishes to understand how power corrupts and how language is weaponised to control people. It is short enough to read in an afternoon, but vast enough to think about for a lifetime.