If you had told me five years ago that I’d be writing this article from a cramped university dorm room, pursuing a PhD after a marathon of rejections back home, I would have laughed. Growing up in the dusty fields of the Terai, my family's lab was my mother’s mud kitchen and curd fermentation pots. Schooling brought promise—no more kerosene lamps—and discovery via smuggled National Geographic magazines whispering of gene editing and harvest miracles. By Class 12, biotechnology and genetic engineering were either my escape or my path home to solve Nepal’s persistent health and agriculture challenges through research.
By 2020, I had earned a B.Tech in Biotechnology from a reputable Indian college, supported by scholarships. The labs amazed me—CRISPR kits humming, professors debating synthetic biology over chai. I graduated in 2024, ranked in the top 1% of my department, with a thesis on genomic tools to power Nepali villages with sustainable biochemicals. My plan: return to Nepal, intern at a research institute, and help build something real. Nepal first, always.
Reality, though, hit harder than a Terai storm. Before finishing my degree, I reached out to Nepal’s Kathmandu University, Tribhuvan University, and the Nepal Academy of Science and Technology—silence. An Indian IIT professor politely declined but encouraged me to sharpen my skills. Even a Harvard geneticist replied, “Impressive, but we’re at capacity; focus on publications.” Eager for experience, I was selected for the Singapore International Pre-Graduate Award and joined a world-class lab at SIFBI. Back in Nepal mid-2024, hope met shock. NAST postings—silence. Private labs—budget constraints. PhD supervisors—no responses. The Biotechnology Society of Nepal welcomed me but had no openings. Universities graduate 200–300 biotech students annually, yet most positions are administrative. The brain drain is a flood; 60–70% of graduates emigrate.
Nepal’s biotech landscape is fighting for oxygen. Tribhuvan University graduates 20–30 MSc students yearly; Kathmandu University enrols 50–60 biotech students per batch; Pokhara and Purbanchal universities add to the total—roughly 200–300 graduates annually for a 30 million population. Yet funding is the bottleneck. Nepal spends only 0.1–0.3% of GDP on research and development, far below the 2.4% global average. Biotech receives minimal support—the Narendra Goel Research Grant offers NPR 50,000–100,000 (~$400–800) for MSc thesis work, barely enough for one experiment. Most funding is donor-driven: WHO, USAID, Wellcome Trust, with over 70% of grants externally sourced.
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NAST receives NPR 200–300 million yearly for all research, with a small fraction for biotechnology. Some collaborations exist—Kathmandu University partners with ICIMOD on Himalayan bioprospecting, occasional foreign joint ventures occur, and the Biotechnology Society supports over 500 members through voluntary webinars and workshops. Most efforts lack sustainable funding.
Domestic job opportunities are scarce. NAST and the Department of Agriculture advertise a few modest biotech posts annually. The private sector consists of small tissue culture and diagnostic companies, often recruiting Indian or foreign talent. Informal surveys suggest the brain circulation promised by fellowships is mostly a one-way street to India, Australia, or the Gulf.
Meanwhile, the world surges ahead. The US invests over $650 billion annually in research and development, about 27% of the world total, with significant funds through NIH and NSF fuelling innovations like mRNA vaccines and CRISPR. China’s government poured $526 billion into R&D in 2019 alone. Its biotech sector, under the Ministry of Science and Technology, has exploded with gene-edited crops, precision cancer therapies, and biotech parks in Shenzhen. Between 2015 and 2024, China’s biotech industry grew twentyfold, filing 50,000 patents annually. India established its Department of Biotechnology in 1986 with a budget exceeding $1 billion, supporting over 5,000 projects via public-private initiatives like BIRAC; the biotech market is now valued at $130 billion and projected to reach $300 billion by 2030.
Even Bangladesh, without a standalone biotech ministry, operates a Genetic Engineering Board channeling $50–100 million annually, often partnering with China for fish farming and vaccine development. These investments amount to 1–2% of GDP.
Nepal’s 2006 National Biotechnology Policy remains vague and largely unimplemented, with limited targets and little follow-through. Key bodies like NAST and university departments share fragmented responsibilities without a national hub for coordination, funding, or intellectual property protection, which stifles growth.
Why the inertia? Nepal’s remittance-driven economy, where money sent home accounts for a quarter of GDP, hesitates to invest in long-term ventures like science. Political instability and frequent government reshuffles prioritise infrastructure projects over research. Nepal imports nearly all biotech equipment from India and China and depends heavily on foreign aid rather than building local expertise.
The cost of inaction is immense. Globally, biotech is projected to add $2.4 trillion to GDP by 2025. For Nepal, agricultural biotech could revolutionise rural economies through drought- and disease-resistant crops. Health innovation could bring local vaccine production and diagnostics. Without centralised leadership, Nepal remains on the fringe of regional and international collaborations.
As the monsoon rains batter my dorm window, I think of the Terai. The silence from Nepali professors wasn’t personal—it’s systemic. Faculty are overwhelmed, managing nightmarish loads and chasing foreign grants just to stay afloat. Harvard professors have research coordinators; ours juggle classrooms of 200 students in ageing labs.
Nepal needs a National Department of Biotechnology under the Ministry of Science and Technology, and the political will to support it. Even a modest $50 million initial budget—a 0.1% GDP increase—could unify efforts by Kathmandu University, NAST, and private labs under a common vision. Incentivising returnees with stipends, reserving positions for deserving graduates, and aligning goals with Sustainable Development Goals (climate-resilient crops, local diagnostics, scientific jobs) could transform communities.
I haven’t given up. This PhD is my kindling. Someday, I’ll email that silent professor again: “Remember me? Let’s build Nepal’s biotech valley.” Until then, from a distant island, I keep dreaming of home. Biotechnology isn’t just science—it’s hope in a pipette. Nepal deserves its share.
The author is a registered biotech engineer of Nepal, currently pursuing an integrated PhD in Biotechnology at UNESCO-RCB.
