Same valley, same corridors. Twice in 14 months, and we still have no early-warning eyes on it.
Fourteen months ago, the Bhote Koshi took the Nepal-China Friendship Bridge in Rasuwagadhi. On the fateful morning of August 26, with no rainfall, it took our road, 11 hydropower plants, Kailash-bound pilgrims, and several millions of dollars’ worth of infrastructure.
This was not an isolated warning. In 2024, the entire village of Thame in Solukhumbu was wiped out by a Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF). These disasters may look different, but they point to the same uncomfortable reality: the hazards facing Nepal’s mountain communities are becoming harder to predict and potentially more destructive than ever. This is not simply bad luck. This is nature telling us something – and the only sensible response is to meet it with humility, preparedness and science.
I have now watched this devastating flood twice. And twice, our response has followed the same pattern: treat the disaster as an emergency. But we are now seeing clearer patterns, along with repeated warnings from experts. The question is no longer whether such disasters can happen, but whether we are prepared when they do.
That question carries particular weight this time because we have a new government – the government we entrusted with delivering meaningful change following the historic Gen Z protest just 12 months ago. A government that came to power promising a different way of doing things should not respond to this disaster in the same old way. Rescue and relief are necessary, but they can not be the whole response. This time, we demand much more from our government.
That means shifting our focus from responding to disasters after they happen to reducing the damage before they do. Prevention may not always be within our control, but preparedness is. Without getting too deeply into global warming and carbon emissions, I want to focus solely on what these changes mean for Nepal — and what we can realistically do about them.
This Is More Than a Flood
In numeric terms, it has severely damaged a 42-kilometre stretch of road between Betrawati and Rasuwagadhi. It has knocked out roughly 430 megawatts of hydropower capacity across six power plants. It has stranded hundreds of Mount Kailash pilgrims — the backbone of Nepal's religious tourism. It has also cut through the same gateway that adventure trekkers use to reach Langtang. Downstream, in Nuwakot, Dhading, and Chitwan, it has hit farmlands that Nepal, a country that still calls itself agricultural, can increasingly ill afford to lose.
Nepal is unique, and the way other countries deal with their problems cannot simply be a holy grail for us. One thing we often overlook when discussing climate change is that it will affect our economy for generations. Unless we learn to navigate these changes intelligently, we are not going to make it.
Most countries do not face this particular concentration of risk. Their tourism economy, power grid and agricultural heartlands aren't all crammed into the same geographical hazardous area. Nepal’s are.
Beyond remittance, our income mix is made up of adventure tourism, religious tourism, power export and agriculture. These are not five separate policy areas. They are interconnected sectors, all of which are heavily exposed to climate change. Hence, our climate task is not merely a humanitarian responsibility. It is a direct defense of our GDP and way of our live. This is where we need our Members of parliament and ministers to focus.
There is technology. Why Aren’t We Using It?
SHIFT for Our Planet: Youths urge authorities to make climate j...
Nepal already has $36.1 million in Green Climate Fund financing,along with additional co-financing, committed to a seven-year GLOF programme covering priority lakes including Thulagi, Lower Barun, Lumding Tsho and Hongu 2. However, after two major floods in 14 months, why is the Bhote Koshi-Lhende Khola corridor not on our national agenda? Why was this not a top priority over the past five months? How is climate not a priority for the minister responsible for agriculture, forest and the environment ?
Five months is a long time to work towards creating a surveillance or monitoring system in a region that has already experienced multiple climate-related impacts. For Nepal, Climate and Agriculture Minister is as important as a Foreign Minister as governing Nepal requires humility with nature and diplomacy with neighbours. While we boast about being home to seven of the world’s highest peaks, climate change is melting glaciers that sustain the ecosystem and communities downstream at an alarming pace. If this continues, it is obvious the next generation may have little left to boast about.
Commercial satellite monitoring in a country living among the world’s tallest peaks is not experimental technology anymore; it should be a line item for us.
Providers such as Planet and ICEYE offer tasking access to synthetic-aperture radar (SAR), which can see through cloud cover and operate day or night. That matters here precisely because this flood occurred without rainfall to warn anyone.Many countries have signed multi-year sovereign-access agreements rather than building their own satellites. This is exactly what Nepal can do.
Weekly SAR tasking over 30 to 40 known high-risk glacial lakes would likely cost Nepal a low single-digit number of millions of dollars a year. The return on this investment would be dwarfed by what this one flood has already cost us in destroyed roads, bridges and power-generating capacity.
This is not about “spending more.” It is an essential investment in our national resilience.
Early Warning Needs Diplomacy Too
But this also requires a structured foreign policy around it.
Just as glaciers and flash floods do not spare countries, monitoring them should not be viewed with hostility. Nepal can install and task satellite-monitoring systems on its own side of the border, where it faces no such constraint.
At the same time, China and Nepal can establish a government-to-government mechanism to formalize what the two countries already agreed to do informally after the 2025 flood.
Diplomacy and formal agreements are important. But I see them as an addition to satellite monitoring, not as a substitute for it.
The points outlined above are issues I have previously raised with government officials following the Thame disaster. I am writing this again in the hope that our government will finally pick them up and act on them.
From Condolences to Accountability
As an entrepreneur and someone who has been part of a rapidly changing media landscape, I have always had to “make it.” Regardless of the circumstances, I have had to figure things out.
Internal or external factors may affect us, but our responsibility to our readers remains the same. By and large, this extends to the entire private sector. The same could be said of the police, army and health workers. However, while political parties have changed, not much has changed in the way Members of Parliament conduct themselves.
An MP visiting a flood site, posting condolences or promising a memorial is not governing. It can be seen as optics performed instead of governing.
Nepal’s Constitution and House rules give MPs a real set of tools—the people’s mandate to introduce bills, scrutinize budgets through committees, summon ministers and hold ministries accountable.
So I would like to ask plainly: Which MP has tabled a bill, sat in a committee or forced a ministry to answer questions about glacial-hazard monitoring, hydropower siting or the Bhote Koshi corridor since this government took office in March?
The answer is none.
That, in itself, is alarming.
So, if the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP)-led government is here to demonstrate change and a difference in governance, here is what needs to be done with due priority.
Immediate Actions the Government Must Take
If the government is serious about moving from disaster response toward greater preparedness and resilience, there are at least five areas where it could act with greater urgency.
First, it should move toward securing a satellite-monitoring contract within the next three months. The Prime Minister’s Office could task the Ministry of Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation with pursuing a SAR tasking agreement covering the Bhote Koshi-Lhende Khola corridor, preferably as an addition to the existing Green Climate Fund programme rather than waiting for a new budget cycle.
Second, the government should consider pausing new hydropower licenses in the Trishuli-Bhote Koshi corridor until a comprehensive hazard reassessment is completed. The Cabinet, rather than the Nepal Electricity Authority, should set a clear and publicly stated timeline for completing such an assessment.
Third, the government should establish a dedicated commission reporting directly to the Prime Minister, with a public deadline to assess which sections of the Betrawati-Rasuwagadhi corridor may need to be relocated rather than simply rebuilt in the same vulnerable locations for a third time.
Fourth, Nepal should work towards establishing a standing Nepal-China glacial-hazard data-sharing mechanism, separate from routine border and trade channels. Such a mechanism could be raised at the highest political level and overseen by the Prime Minister’s Office, while working closely with the Foreign Ministry and relevant technical agencies.
Fifth, the government should commission a downstream flood-exposure and farmland-loss assessment for Nuwakot, Dhading and Chitwan before the next monsoon. Understanding where the greatest risks lie would allow authorities to prioritize mitigation and preparedness measures before the next disaster, rather than assessing the damage afterward.
Yes, rescue and relief are important. But my generation’s government needs to go the extra mile because nature isn’t waiting.
No more popularity politics built around doing the bare minimum. No more simply giving money to grieving families and calling someone a martyr. This will not suffice.
Dashain is seven weeks away, with Tika on October 21, followed shortly by Tihar in November. For families in Rasuwa and Nuwakot, it will be the first festival with an empty chair at the table, the first Bhai Tika in a house that has lost a brother, and the first homecoming where the road home—or the person waiting at the end of it—is simply gone.
The government should have exactly that long to decide whether the road, the warning system and the policies that should have existed a year ago will finally exist before the next disaster arrives.
The author is a media entrepreneur and investor with a keen interest in energy and climate issues.
