For the last two and a half months cooking gas has been unavailable in the market, at least if you want to buy it legally. Now even the families who started skimping and saving their LPG when they first got the news of the Indian blockade are running out of gas. Most people have made the logical switch to electronic cooking appliances. When historians write about this blockade in the future, they may note how ‘induction stove’ became synonymous with the blockade. But for many Nepalis even these rather expensive gadgets—costing anywhere between Rs 3,000 to Rs 9,000 a pop—is proving useless. In many places inside Kathmandu Valley, electricity consumption jumped manifold as people started using more appliances; the transformers and the wiring built to carry current could not cope with the extra load. Parts of Kathmandu were thus plunged into darkness for days on end. The natural tendency is to curse India for imposing such hardships. But we would also do well to look at our no less significant shortcomings.
Demand is up but the major rivers that supply us with electricity are drying. With the onset of winter, the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) on Thursday increased load-shedding hours from 44 hours a week to 57 hours a week. As most of the cuts will be during ‘peak hours’, people might as well pack up their induction stoves—if their local power lines are still intact. Up to eight hours of daily power cuts at peak times represent, above everything else, lack of seriousness of our political class to make Nepal self-reliant on electricity. No big hydro project is scheduled for completion in the next five years. Even the little construction on new projects has been disrupted after earthquakes earlier in the year. To add to our misery the existing hydro plants are going kaput. The 44-MW Upper Bhotekoshi in Sindhupalchowk, which was badly damaged in earthquakes, is yet to resume operation. Our political class was so consumed by constitution in the last eight years—or so they would like us to believe—they had time for little else. Even national priority projects, including the 456-MW Upper Tamakoshi, are therefore facing big cost and time overruns.
NEA has asked people to refrain from using electric appliances during peak hours. But this is no solution. The only way we can get uninterrupted supply of electricity is if projects like Upper Tamakoshi come into pipeline—and soon—to meet increasing demand. And the only way that will happen is if we can promptly settle all constitutional issues and our political parties then collectively embark on the path of economic development. Acute power shortage is, arguably, the biggest impediment to Nepal’s long-sought graduation to a developing country status. You run industries for long on expensive imported oil—and still expect them to generate jobs. The cost difference with more efficient foreign manufacturers soon catches up. The other option, of course, is to continue to harp on the great injustice being done by the big bully next door. The Indians might say that if Nepalis are not ready to help themselves, it’s useless to expect outsiders to come to their rescue.
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