By Narayan Prasad Mishra
I own a small plot of land at Balkhu Chowk, on the south side of the Ring Road, just east of the main road in front of the Office of the Controller of Examinations of Tribhuvan University. The land lies on a small hill that slopes downward from south to north toward the Ring Road. Between my land (to the north) and my neighbors’ land (to the south), there has long existed a traditional walking path—known in Nepali as a goreto bato. Although originally a foot trail, it is wide enough for a small vehicle and is clearly shown on the official survey map. The path runs eastward from the Examination Office to the Balkhu–Chovar–Kirtipur main road. By Nepali standards, it is wide enough to qualify as a narrow motorable road.
Historically, this was the main walking route for the locality. Before the Ring Road was constructed, even funeral processions carrying the deceased to the Bagmati River for cremation used this path. After the Ring Road was built, however, its use gradually declined.
Several years ago, during the tenure of Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai, Kathmandu’s roads were widened. In the process, sidewalks and walking paths along major roads—including the Kuleshwor–Balkhu road—were demolished. At that time, Maoist party workers were widely regarded as the most powerful individuals in the country. Ordinary citizens were reluctant to challenge them, even when wrongdoing occurred.
During the road expansion project, stones, bricks, cement blocks, soil, gravel, and other debris were collected at night, loaded onto trucks, and dumped in a massive heap—almost like a small hill—on land belonging to Krishna Bahadur Thapa, whose property lies south of mine. I was informed that an influential worker of the Maoist party carried this out. It appeared that the debris had been stockpiled for future sale to individuals needing fill material for low-lying land. However, the enormous heap buried the traditional footpath and completely covered my land as well.
I approached Mr. Thapa and requested that he arrange for the removal of the debris from both the footpath and my property. He acknowledged the wrongdoing and assured me, saying, “Yes, sir, this should not have been done. I will have it removed.” Unfortunately, around that time, Mr. Thapa got seriously sick and passed away. In the prevailing political climate, I did not find it safe or practical to file a formal complaint elsewhere. To this day, the debris remains uncleared. The footpath is still blocked, and my land remains damaged. The situation remains unresolved.
Laws Without Enforcement
Nepal has no shortage of laws, rules, and regulations—perhaps even more than many developed countries. Our Civil Code clearly states what citizens should and should not do, especially in matters affecting neighbors and public property. Yet lawbreakers continue to create problems for others, and the concerned authorities often fail to take initiative.
In my view, many of the problems facing Nepal—whether in society, local neighborhoods, or government offices—are the direct result of irresponsible, self-serving governance, chronic mismanagement, and the failure to enforce the law with integrity. Since the adoption of the multi-party system, and even more so after the country became a republic, political parties, organized groups, and vested interests have become more powerful than the law itself. When those entrusted with upholding the law instead tolerate or enable its violation, disorder becomes normalized. The ongoing encroachment on public land along the banks of the Bagmati River and the continued settlement of squatters there stand as visible and troubling symbols of a state that has lost the will—or the courage—to enforce its own laws and protect public property.
A Ray of Hope—and Disappointment
When Mayor Balen Shah assumed office in the Kathmandu Metropolitan Municipality, I observed what appeared to be a break from this culture of inaction. His administration constructed proper sidewalks, removed illegal encroachments by street vendors, installed seating at bus stops, beautified roads with decorative lighting, planted and maintained greenery, cleaned streets, restored historical monuments, and preserved temples, water spouts, and rest houses (satals). It also made efforts to clear encroachments along riverbanks and intervened in neighborhood disputes. These actions gave many citizens hope that good governance—grounded in facts, initiative, and accountability—might finally take root, even at the ward level.
Although I have motorable access to my land and am not personally dependent on the blocked footpath, I believe that reopening the traditional goreto bato from the University’s Examination Office eastward toward Chovar and Kirtipur would greatly benefit students, residents, and neighbors. It would also remove the debris covering my land and restore the proper boundary between my property and the public path.
With this in mind, I submitted a formal application to Ward No. 14 of Kathmandu Metropolitan City on February 2, 2026, requesting the measurement, demarcation, and restoration of the traditional footpath, and attached the relevant survey map (Sheet No. 102 1183 03) with the concerned plot numbers marked. I expected that the ward office would promptly act in the public interest, restore the path, and appreciate the effort of bringing the matter to their attention.
Instead, I was asked merely to collect a letter from the ward office and personally deliver it to the Survey Office in Kalanki. Anyway, I thanked the ward member who arranged to give it to me without any problem. The one-sentence letter dated February 8, 2026, requested the Survey Office to determine and demarcate the boundary of the road recorded under Plot Nos—349 and 308 at Site No. 102118303 in Ward No. 14. In effect, not only must I deliver the letter, but I am also expected—at over eighty years of age—to arrange transportation, bring survey personnel to the site, and bear associated costs of pleasing them to come. Meanwhile, the question remains unanswered: which authority is responsible for constructing a retaining wall or removing the debris that destabilized the hill in the first place?
I found myself unsure which office is responsible and how to pursue justice further.
A Personal Disillusionment
I had hoped that the spirit of initiative and accountability demonstrated by Mayor Balen Shah would have taken root institutionally. Instead, I encountered the same culture of procedural deflection and passive administration. At my advanced age, after decades of experience, I find it painful not to understand why such a simple and just matter remains unresolved. The burden appears to fall not on those responsible for the wrongdoing, nor on the authorities tasked with enforcement, but on the affected citizen.
When I observed and experienced this situation, I gradually lost my enthusiasm for engaging in social causes. It saddens me deeply to witness such conditions in my beloved country.
The author is a senior citizen, writer of several books and articles in English and Nepali, and a retired official of Tribhuvan University, Nepal.
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