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A foggy mind is nothing like the foggy forest of Nagarjun—cool, refreshing, beautiful and full of diversity, where trees rise, birds sing, butterflies flutter, monkeys leap from branch to branch and the five elements—Earth, water, fire, air and ether—remain in relative equilibrium even as the concrete jungle advances like Macbeth’s Birnam Wood.

Forget about writing; a mind at war with itself, a mind that has become its own Kurukshetra—a warzone featuring Russia-Ukraine, US-Iran, India-Pakistan, not to mention existential problems galore in a country in perpetual turmoil—cannot even think clearly.

Or is it writer’s block? What is this creature that has come out of the woodwork all of a sudden? Tyrannosaurus rex? Woolly mammoth? Has the Ice Age returned, or am I hallucinating? Most probably, Mahadev, the lord of the Devs and a principal deity of our locality, knows the answer, and so do the all-seeing eyes of Swayambhunath.

Writer’s block is that strange state in which words refuse to obey the mind. It is less a drought of ideas than a quiet rebellion of thought against itself. It is the fear of never writing anything enduring on life’s pages—a creative process slowed to the pace of Nagdhunga traffic before the tunnel. 

Familiar territory....

So many rulers have ruled alike, wounded their heels and gone. So many heads have thought alike, mouths have spoken the same words and hands have written essentially the same things so many times under different bylines… What exactly is the purpose of this drudgery?

After all, so many creatures have lived remarkably similar lives across generations. Nay, this is going a bit too far. Rather than going deeper into the treacherous terrain, let me retreat and draw a pailful from the well within. Writing (the old way) is particularly healing, so it’s worth it, even if it does not come with a heavy paycheque. As not all people are born to set the Thames on fire, writing is okay, though the sad part is that it takes a huge toll on the forest.

The cuckoo sings perfectly without writing her songs, so does the nightingale and so does Maya Angelou’s caged bird. But humans have this bizarre desire to scribble, not to mention myriad other activities that leave a huge carbon footprint behind. Were the sapiens created to destroy the universe?

The pulp and paper industry, for example, has contributed to the loss of diverse tropical forests in parts of Indonesia and the Amazon, where natural forests have often given way to pulp plantations. Ah, how the forest beckons! What am I waiting for? For some auspicious signs, like a comet shower, the appearance of a star or the drop of a beautiful feather from you don’t know where? Or waiting for the forest to come to me? Such things happen in movies, not in real life….

Movies can wait; the woods cannot. For now, I head towards them, hoping to overcome this dense fog—writer’s block or what have you. On the way to Swayambhunath, I stop at the Mahadev temple to greet the deity, only to find him fast asleep with his family—Parvati, Kumar and Ganesh—and their divine mounts: Nandi the bull, the lion, the peacock and the tiny mouse, creatures that, in nature, are enemies of one another.

Just across Sanobharyang at Transport Nagar, a stationary tipper has a moving message with a beautiful picture of a mother and the apple of her eye: Amako maya matra tyasto aushadhi ho jasko expiry date hundaina. Indeed, a mother’s love is the only medicine without an expiry date.

Another tipper has Ma mare pani mero desh baanchi rahos—”Let my country live on even after I die”—written in its very heart, alongside the historic picture of the royal family consisting of King Birendra, Queen Aishwarya, Crown Prince Dipendra, Princess Shruti and Prince Nirajan, who were killed in the royal massacre of 1 June 2001, leaving deep wounds and unanswered questions in the annals of Nepal.

As I come across great lines amid unceasing traffic, I wonder if some of our budding literary figures may be hidden behind the wheel! On top of a muddied gully sits a graveyard of wildlife—a depot of construction materials like sand and aggregates—against the backdrop of a green cover just across the road.

Close by flows a little, muddy-red rivulet—a Ganga in her own right, for what is a Ganga without her tributaries?—through an urban sprawl, carrying filth, with no sign of aquatic life even in the rain-fed flow. Somehow, I smell gunpowder everywhere. Yet I refuse to surrender to its fumes. Accompanied by my two companions—walking and writing—I keep moving, hoping that eventually, the fog will lift.

Amid a faint flutter of pigeons and melancholic images of caged rabbits up for sale, Goma (9), her daughter Mala (4), Bagheil, a massive territorial male, and their cubs come towards me in all their majesty from a far-away Bardiya, and I freeze on the narrow street that wends through a concrete jungle just below the wilderness of Swayambhunath.

These creatures, while real in the wilderness of Bardiya, constitute frames from Tiger Island, a BBC movie based mainly on the struggle of Goma to raise her four cubs in a habitat quite close to human settlements amid the lurking fear of human-wildlife conflict and natural enemies within the wilderness. The loss of three of her male cubs to a cannibalistic male breaks the heart (it certainly broke mine while watching the movie at a recent screening event), a near encounter of cubs with the rhino has viewers on the edge of their seats, while the miraculous survival of her remaining cub and their reunion fill hearts with joy.

The sight of Bagheil, Goma and Mala raising the young together sheds new light on male tiger behaviour—a reminder that we may still be far from comprehending it. Whether we call it the Bengal tiger, the Royal Bengal tiger or simply the tiger matters little. The creature’s majesty does not depend on a colonial title—or two. 

But raising a cub is no easy task, or is it? It takes an entire village to raise a child, goes an African proverb. Native American wisdom says: All plants and animals are our brothers and sisters. Our belief systems stand on the premise that even non-living things like rocks feel pain.

Let the tigers burning bright in the forests of Bardiya—and everywhere else—show us the way towards a sustainable future, one in which governments, including that of our own malnourished republic, see themselves not as masters of nature but as protectors of every living and non-living entity.

Every generation is presented with defining policy choices that shape its economic future. For Nepal, the coming decade offers one such moment. As the country prepares for graduation from Least Developed Country (LDC) status and seeks more resilient engines of growth, tourism deserves to be viewed not merely as a source of foreign exchange or employment, but as a strategic pillar of national development.

Yet public debate rarely reflects this broader perspective. Discussions continue to revolve around annual visitor arrivals, new hotels, airports and promotional campaigns. Important though these are, they leave unanswered a far more consequential question: What kind of tourism economy should Nepal aspire to build by 2035?

The answer matters because the global tourism landscape is changing rapidly. Climate change is reshaping mountain destinations, digital technologies are redefining visitor experiences and international competition is becoming increasingly sophisticated. Success will depend less on attracting more visitors than on creating greater value, strengthening resilience and ensuring that tourism contributes meaningfully to Nepal's long-term economic transformation. The debate, therefore, should move beyond growth alone and towards value creation.

Nepal's comparative advantage has never been limited to the Himalayas. It lies in the unique combination of extraordinary landscapes, living heritage, cultural diversity, spiritual traditions and the warmth of its people. Yet these assets, remarkable as they are, cannot guarantee long-term success. Natural beauty may attract visitors, but it is sound policy, capable institutions and a clear national vision that determine whether tourism delivers lasting prosperity.

One of the most important shifts Nepal must make is from pursuing volume to creating value.

For decades, tourism performance has been measured largely by the number of international arrivals. Although arrivals remain an important indicator, they reveal little about the quality of economic returns, visitor spending, length of stay or the distribution of benefits across the country. A tourism strategy for 2035 should therefore place greater emphasis on value rather than volume. Encouraging longer stays, supporting locally owned enterprises, expanding cultural, wellness and nature-based experiences, and promoting lesser-known destinations would generate stronger economic returns while reducing pressure on heavily visited areas. High-value tourism should not be misunderstood as luxury tourism. It is a development strategy that seeks to maximize economic, social and environmental returns from every visitor while protecting the very assets upon which tourism depends.

Climate change makes this transition even more urgent.

The Himalayas, which define Nepal's global tourism identity, are also among the world's most climate-vulnerable regions. Retreating glaciers, erratic weather patterns, landslides and changing trekking seasons are no longer distant possibilities—they are already influencing mountain communities and tourism operations. Climate resilience can no longer remain an environmental agenda operating separately from tourism policy. It must become one of its foundations.

Investment in climate-resilient infrastructure, safer trekking routes, ecosystem restoration, renewable energy, effective waste management and early warning systems should be viewed not simply as environmental initiatives but as long-term economic investments. Protecting Nepal's mountain ecosystems is inseparable from protecting one of the country's most valuable economic assets.

Equally transformative will be the digitalization of tourism.

Today's travelers expect seamless digital services throughout their journey—from visa applications and permit systems to online payments, real-time travel information and personalized experiences. But digital transformation should not be understood merely as improving convenience for visitors. Integrated tourism data, artificial intelligence, multilingual digital platforms and smart destination management can significantly strengthen policy planning, resource allocation and visitor management. In an increasingly competitive global market, digital capability will become as important as physical infrastructure.

Nepal's international image also deserves fresh thinking.

For many people around the world, Nepal remains synonymous with Mount Everest. While Everest will always be an enduring national symbol, no destination should rely indefinitely on a single icon to define its identity. Nepal possesses an extraordinary diversity of cultural heritage, biodiversity, pilgrimage sites, indigenous traditions, wildlife, festivals and wellness experiences that together present a far richer story. Destination branding should therefore move beyond marketing campaigns and become part of a broader nation-branding strategy—one that enhances international reputation, strengthens investment confidence and communicates Nepal as a country where nature, culture and community coexist in exceptional harmony.

If Nepal is to realize this broader vision, the benefits of tourism must also be distributed more equitably across the country.

Despite remarkable tourism potential in every province, economic activity continues to be concentrated in a handful of destinations. This concentration has generated both opportunity and imbalance—placing increasing pressure on popular destinations while leaving many culturally and ecologically significant regions on the margins of the tourism economy. The next decade should therefore focus on developing regional tourism hubs that reflect the distinctive strengths of each province. Improved connectivity, coordinated destination planning, stronger local entrepreneurship and strategic investment can transform tourism into a catalyst for balanced regional development rather than geographic concentration.

Such an approach is particularly important for Nepal's mountain regions.

For generations, mountain communities have safeguarded the landscapes that have shaped Nepal's global tourism identity. Yet many continue to experience outward migration, seasonal employment and limited opportunities for economic diversification. The long-term sustainability of Nepal's tourism sector will ultimately depend on whether these communities prosper alongside it. Tourism policies should therefore support local ownership, women-led enterprises, skills development, value-added local products, renewable energy and year-round livelihoods. Sustainable mountain economies are not only essential for reducing inequality; they are equally important for preserving the cultural and environmental assets upon which Nepal's tourism future depend.

None of these ambitions, however, will be realized without stronger institutions.

Nepal has never lacked tourism strategies. What it has often lacked is institutional continuity. Successive governments have introduced ambitious plans, yet inconsistent implementation, shifting political priorities and frequent administrative restructuring have limited their long-term impact. Vision 2035 must therefore be built upon institutions that outlast political cycles rather than projects that change with them.

Long-term visions are meaningful only when accompanied by measurable outcomes. By 2035, Nepal should evaluate tourism not only through arrival figures but also through indicators such as visitor spending, average length of stay, regional distribution of economic benefits, environmental performance, digital service delivery, community participation and quality employment. Measuring these outcomes would strengthen accountability while allowing policies to evolve in response to evidence rather than assumptions.

The year 2035 is no longer a distant milestone. Decisions regarding investment, education, climate adaptation, digital innovation and institutional reform are already shaping the tourism economy Nepal will inherit. Waiting for challenges to become more visible will only make them more expensive to solve.

The real question is not whether Nepal's tourism sector will continue to grow. It almost certainly will. The more important question is whether that growth will generate the productivity, resilience and prosperity required for a country seeking to strengthen its economy in the post-LDC era.

The Himalayas have given Nepal one of the world's greatest tourism endowments. Whether they also become the foundation of long-term national prosperity will depend less on geography than on governance; less on promotional campaigns than on policy continuity; and less on the number of visitors who arrive than on the value the nation creates from every journey.

Vision 2035 should therefore not become another document placed on a government shelf. It should become a national commitment to build a tourism economy that is more resilient, more innovative, more inclusive and ultimately more competitive. The choices Nepal makes today will determine not only the future of tourism, but also an important part of the country's economic future.

For decades, Nepal's tourism success has largely been measured by a single benchmark: the number of international visitors arriving each year. Government announcements celebrate rising arrivals, tourism campaigns are evaluated against visitor targets, and industry discussions often revolve around one central question: How many tourists can Nepal attract?

While visitor arrivals remain an important indicator of growth, they reveal only part of the story. As Nepal navigates an increasingly competitive and rapidly evolving global tourism landscape, it is time to ask a more consequential question: Is the true measure of tourism success the number of visitors who arrive, or the value they create?

The distinction is not merely statistical. It goes to the heart of how Nepal understands tourism's role in economic development, cultural preservation, environmental stewardship, and international positioning.

For many years, destinations around the world pursued a simple formula: more tourists meant more growth. Yet experience has shown that rising visitor numbers do not automatically translate into greater prosperity. Some destinations that prioritized volume above all else now grapple with overcrowding, strained infrastructure, environmental pressures, and uneven distribution of tourism benefits.

As a result, a growing number of countries are embracing a different approach—one that prioritizes visitor value over visitor volume. The objective is no longer simply to attract more tourists, but to cultivate tourism that generates stronger economic returns, enriches local communities, preserves heritage, and enhances the overall quality of the visitor experience.

Nepal would be wise to embrace a similar shift in thinking.

The country possesses an extraordinary tourism portfolio. Home to the world's highest peak, the birthplace of the Buddha, diverse cultures, living heritage, extraordinary biodiversity, and some of the planet's most iconic trekking routes, Nepal enjoys an enviable concentration of tourism assets. Yet despite these strengths, the national conversation continues to focus overwhelmingly on arrival figures.

A million visitors may appear impressive on paper. But the more important questions are seldom asked. How long did those visitors stay? How much did they spend? Where did they travel beyond the established tourism circuit? Did local communities benefit? Did their visits contribute to conservation efforts? Were they sufficiently inspired to return—or to recommend Nepal to others?

Without answers to these questions, arrival statistics provide only a partial picture of tourism's true contribution.

Tourism remains one of Nepal's most important sources of foreign exchange earnings and employment. It supports guides, porters, hotel owners, transport operators, artisans, entrepreneurs, and countless small businesses across the country. Yet the long-term success of the sector depends not only on attracting more visitors but also on maximizing the value generated by every visitor who comes.

A value-based approach does not imply excluding budget travelers, nor does it advocate tourism solely for the affluent. Rather, it recognizes that the true worth of tourism lies in the quality of engagement between visitors and destinations. A traveler who spends three weeks exploring multiple regions, hires local guides, purchases local products, participates in cultural experiences, and supports community enterprises often contributes far more to the national economy than several short-stay visitors whose spending remains concentrated within a limited area.

This perspective is particularly relevant because global tourism demand is changing. Increasingly, travelers seek meaning rather than mere movement. They seek immersion rather than observation. Authenticity, wellness, spirituality, cultural exchange, sustainability, and personal transformation have become defining themes of contemporary travel.

Fortunately, these are areas where Nepal possesses a natural competitive advantage.

From community-based tourism initiatives in rural villages to pilgrimage routes, wellness retreats, conservation programs, indigenous cultural experiences, and responsible adventure travel, Nepal has the opportunity to offer experiences that resonate with the aspirations of modern travelers. The challenge is not a lack of tourism assets. The challenge is transforming those assets into high-quality, meaningful experiences that encourage visitors to stay longer, spend more, and engage more deeply.

Equally important is the issue of geographical concentration. A significant proportion of tourism activity remains clustered around Kathmandu, Pokhara, Chitwan, and the Everest region. While these destinations will undoubtedly remain pillars of Nepal's tourism economy, a value-oriented tourism strategy should also seek to broaden the map.

Regions such as Upper Mustang, Dolpo, Rara, Kanchenjunga, and the Far West possess immense untapped potential. Encouraging visitors to explore a wider range of destinations would not only increase the length of stay and visitor spending but also distribute tourism benefits more equitably across the country while reducing pressure on heavily visited areas.

This shift also requires rethinking how tourism success is measured.

Alongside visitor arrivals, Nepal should pay greater attention to indicators such as average visitor expenditure, length of stay, repeat visitation rates, visitor satisfaction, regional distribution of tourism benefits, employment generation, and environmental sustainability. These metrics provide a far more meaningful understanding of tourism's contribution to national development than arrival numbers alone.

At the policy level, this requires institutional continuity and long-term vision. Tourism development cannot depend solely on annual campaigns, changing priorities, or short-term targets. It requires coordinated efforts among government agencies, local governments, the private sector, and local communities. Infrastructure development, destination management, workforce development, investment promotion, and digital marketing must all be aligned with a clear strategic direction.

This conversation is ultimately about competitiveness. In an era when destinations around the world compete fiercely for visitor attention, natural beauty alone is no longer enough. Successful destinations increasingly differentiate themselves through quality experiences, effective management, compelling storytelling, and coherent national branding.

For Nepal, tourism should be viewed not merely as an industry but as a strategic national asset. It shapes international perceptions, strengthens people-to-people connections, supports economic growth, and contributes to the country's global identity. In this sense, tourism is both an economic sector and a powerful instrument of nation-building.

As Nepal looks toward the next decade of tourism development, the challenge is not simply to attract more visitors. The challenge is to ensure that tourism creates greater value—for local communities, for conservation, for cultural heritage, and for the nation as a whole.

The question policymakers should increasingly ask is not, "How many tourists came?" but rather, "What value did tourism create for Nepal?"

The answer may ultimately determine the future direction, resilience, and sustainability of one of the country's most important industries.

The ‘Blue Bus Project’, is one of the 100 provisions the Nepal government promised after the sweeping victory of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). It involves government run free public bus service aimed at only facilitating women and children for their daily commute with increased security features. Arvin Ghimire from ApEx spoke with people to understand this matter regarding its importance, gender segregation and more.

Snidgha Pakhrin, 18, Student

The blue bus service is a great initiative. Protecting both women and children in buses where they often face harassment, groping and leering is just what’s currently needed. Whereas as for its criticisms, I fail to see any proper ones. I can understand the arguments for including elderly males in the service, however as they do not require as much protection as women and children, especially in public places, their exclusion makes sense. That said, I am still skeptical of the government’s reason to name the service blue bus, doesn't it stereotypically represent men?

Abhinna Shrestha, 17, Student

Any program aimed at protecting women and children has my full support. That said, I fail to see the economic viability of this project. As per my understanding 99 percent of public transportation is currently being run by the Private Sector. Introduction of free service in such industries are certain to hinder the free market, and create unwanted negative consequences, such as reduction of overall transportation or some level of retaliation by bus owners, which is bound to disrupt daily life for a lot of people.

Mira Poudyal, 71, Housewife

The provision of free transportation creates a bittersweet effect. While the customers will be satisfied with the stipulation, the state is forced to bear all the costs. Instead of making the service free for all females,it would be better off charging lower costs, while providing grants to the elderly and children. This way women will be encouraged to create their own source of income. Plus, exclusion of elderly males and the disabled is also a mistake as they also deserve such facilities.

Mohan Bahadur Basnet, 60, Businessperson

This program seems viable only in concept . I do not see any probability for the government to successfully run transportation services, it's just too complicated. Let's look at it practically na, who's going to pay for the cost of acquiring and repairing the buses.  You know these kinds of operations require a command center to operate right? Who is willing to do that in the long run? I just have one thing to say, “The project is just not suitable”.

Mala Kumari Sahani, 23, Student

The current public transportation services are really uncomfortable. I often come across crowded situations where men and women end up pressed against each other while staying in the bus to create more space, which doesn't help further when conductors instruct you to do so. I also have to worry about temperature, where in summer I face excruciating heat fueled by the crowd, and in the winter where no matter the amount of clothes I wear, the cold finds its way to sweep in. I have a lot of hope for the Blue Bus service, to fix those issues and view it as a positive step forward.

Surendra Kumar Subedi, 55, Retiree

I disagree with the practicality of this service. Instead of dividing women and children into a completely different vehicle, the government would be better off increasing the number of quotas designated for them in the existing transportation sector. Which  is a way to both increase comfort for them, while the government can be relieved from the task of operating a transportation service.

Vishnu Dev Yadav, 25, Student

While I'm not really informed about the topic, I find initiatives to protect women and children really good. As the Blue Bus program is free for women, it is even better.  That said, I also believe in equality between males and females, just because a small percentage of men are responsible for committing crimes against women, does not justify their exclusion from the service. Men should also receive services that women receive from the government.

Samjhana Pal, 18, Private sector employee

It is a great initiative, as it makes women and children feel protected in a typically unsafe environment. And for the arguments of including elderly men in the service, I would actually feel concerned for them, as they can also feel uncomfortable being only surrounded by women in a ride predominantly made for women.

Roshani Poudyal, 48, Associate professor 

To begin with there is a lack of information available about the service, despite its operations starting very soon. As a woman I expect some basic services such as trained operators, sanitary environment, and overall a safe form of driving, unlike the current public transportation scenario.

Kul Raj Subedi, 65, Retired bureaucrat

Considering  the difficulty faced by women and children,  the program seems to be a positive way forward. Although women being the major victims of crimes such as leering, other crimes such as pickpocketing, should also be controlled, ensuring everyone’s right to obtain a comfortable and safe transportation environment.