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I was listening to scientist Brian Cox, and one thing he said resonated with me: learning is about understanding. When we truly understand something, it does not need evaluation from others. It is something that happens within us. We realize it ourselves. And that moment of realization can be a kind of spiritual experience. I think this is something very basic about being human. We are not only people who collect information, get qualifications, and solve problems. We are also people who wonder. We look at nature, the universe, and our own existence, and we want to understand. The mystery itself creates a desire inside us to know more. I remember when I was standing in front of the Himalayas in Manang. 

I still cannot fully explain that feeling in words. It was not only about seeing a beautiful mountain. There was something deeper. The vastness of the Himalayas created some kind of mystery inside me. It made me want to understand more—about nature, about my own position in this world, about my relationship with others, and about myself. That experience also made me realize that some forms of understanding cannot be measured by others. Someone else can stand in the same place and see the same mountain, but the experience inside can be completely different. No one else can fully evaluate that feeling. The mystery and the understanding begin within the person who experiences them. 

But perhaps our personal experiences do not separate us from each other. They can also connect us. A forest is made of many individual trees. Every tree has its own shape, its own history, and its own way of growing. But no tree exists completely alone. Every tree is connected to the same soil, the same air, the same water, and the larger ecosystem. Perhaps human beings are also like that. We are individuals with our own experiences, identities, and journeys, but we are also part of a larger human and natural world. Maybe this is one of the most beautiful characteristics of human beings: we have the ability to wonder. 

Before knowledge comes curiosity. Before answers come questions. A child looking at the stars, a person standing in front of a mountain, or a scientist exploring the universe—all are connected by this desire to understand something bigger than themselves. But when I look at human society, I sometimes wonder: how is it possible that we have this deep ability to experience wonder and connection, yet we also create so many divisions among ourselves? 

Recently, I have been thinking about this in relation to what is happening in Nepal. It hurts me when I see people fighting and blaming each other because of religion, language, community, or different identities. People start saying “this group” and “that group,” “our people” and “their people.” Somehow, we become more aware of our differences and forget the deeper connection that we share. I do not think identity itself is the problem. Identity is important. We all need identity. It gives us a feeling of belonging and helps us understand who we are. Our language, culture, religion, and traditions are meaningful parts of human life. They carry our memories, histories, and experiences. But the question is: how do we understand our identity? For me, identity is not only about belonging to a particular group. Like a tree in a forest, my identity comes from my own experiences, but also from my relationships. 

My relationship with nature, with other people, and with myself shapes who I am. Being connected does not mean losing my individuality. It means understanding that my individuality exists within a larger whole. When identity becomes only about separation, then it can create fear and conflict. But when identity is understood as a relationship, it can bring us closer. We can be proud of our own culture and still respect others. We can belong to a particular community and still understand that we are part of a larger human family. This is something I often think about when I look at Nepal today. Nepal is a country with incredible diversity. We have many languages, cultures, traditions, and ways of life. This diversity should be our strength. But sometimes it feels that our understanding of being Nepali together is becoming weaker. 

Nepal has gone through many changes, from monarchy to a federal democratic republican system. Political systems are important, but I wonder if changes in systems alone are enough. Maybe we also need a deeper change in our understanding of ourselves and each other. A country cannot become united only through political structures. There also needs to be a feeling of connection among people. Many people blame social media for increasing divisions in society. Social media certainly has an influence. It can spread anger quickly and make people more divided. But I also wonder if social media is only showing what already exists inside us. Maybe social media is revealing our level of understanding, our ability to listen, and our ability to see beyond our own identities. 

If that is true, then the deeper question is not only about technology. It is about us. It is about how we are growing as human beings and what kind of understanding we are developing. And this brings me back to education. As teachers, we need to ask ourselves: what kind of learning are we providing for the next generation? Are we only teaching children how to pass exams, compete, and achieve success? Or are we also helping them develop curiosity, compassion, humility, and a sense of connection with the world? Children naturally have a sense of mystery. They ask questions about life, nature, and existence. They want to know why things are the way they are. But sometimes our education system focuses so much on finding the correct answer that we forget the importance of asking questions. 

Learning is not only about collecting information. It is about developing understanding. It is about learning how to think, how to listen, how to connect, and how to see the relationship between ourselves and the world around us. As teachers, perhaps our responsibility is not only to prepare children to use the world, but also to help them understand that they belong to the world. They should learn science and technology, but they should also learn wonder, respect, and responsibility. Science itself teaches us humility. The more we discover about the universe, the more we realize how much we do not know. True understanding does not make us feel superior. It makes us humbler and more connected. 

The mystery of nature and our desire to understand that mystery may be one of the deepest parts of being human. True understanding does not divide us. It connects us. Maybe the crucial question for education today is not only how much knowledge we can give to children, but what kind of human beings we help them become. Can we help them see their identity like a tree in a forest, unique and valuable in itself, but also deeply connected with nature, society, and the larger human family? Perhaps this is where true learning begins. 

Bhaktapur, traditionally known as Khwopa, is one of the oldest cities in Kathmandu Valley. Covering an area of 6.88 square kilometers, the city has a population of approximately 100,000 and lies at an elevation of 1,401 meters above sea level. The majority of its inhabitants are Hindu or Buddhist, and the harmonious coexistence of these two faiths has long been one of the city’s defining characteristics. Owing to its remarkable religious harmony and exceptional cultural heritage, Bhaktapur is often compared with Vatican City in Rome. 

Bhaktapur flourished during the Licchavi period, particularly under King Narendra Dev in the seventh century, and reached its cultural and architectural zenith during the Malla era, when it became a renowned center of architecture, craftsmanship and the arts. Following Nepal’s unification under the Shah dynasty, however, the city’s political and economic importance gradually declined, and it eventually became one of the Kathmandu Valley's most neglected and unsanitary urban centers. Despite this decline, its extraordinary artistic and cultural heritage continued to captivate visitors from around the world.

In 1929, British traveller EA Powell observed that “it would still be amply worth making a journey halfway around the globe to see it.” During the 1930s, Prime Minister Juddha Shumsher Rana reportedly referred to Bhaktapur as the ‘City of Devotees’. In the 1970s, German architect and conservation scholar Niels Gutschow helped popularise Bhaktapur as a ‘living museum’, and in Kailash (1989), scholar Jagadish Shumsher Rana described it as Nepal’s “capital of dance and music”.

Today, however, Bhaktapur is far more than a living museum, it is a vibrant living city where heritage remains an integral part of everyday life. Once associated with poor sanitation and urban decay, it has transformed into a model of transparent municipal governance, cultural conservation and sustainable urban development. This remarkable transformation reflects the long-term vision articulated in Narayan Man Bijukchhe’s book Bhaktapur After One Hundred Years (2000), which envisages a city where master craftsmen preserve its architectural legacy, devotees begin their mornings in peaceful spiritual surroundings, students establish it as an international center of learning during the day, and music, dance and festivals enliven its evenings. His vision demonstrates that historic cities can embrace modern development without sacrificing their cultural identity. His lifelong dedication has been instrumental in shaping Bhaktapur’s future. 

More recently, his book Letters from Jail, a collection of letters written to his wife, Shobha Pradhan, during his imprisonment and later translated into English and Chinese, has served as an important catalyst for social transformation. His vision demonstrates that historic cities can embrace modern development without sacrificing their cultural identity.

Bhaktapur’s living culture has not only preserved its unique identity but has also shaped an outstanding model of local governance. Over the past several decades, the municipality has earned national recognition for transparent financial management, accountable elected leadership, effective solid waste management, heritage conservation, disciplined municipal administration and consistent public service delivery. Public trust has been built not through political promises but through prudent stewardship of public resources and a sustained commitment to the well-being of its citizens.

Today, Bhaktapur is increasingly recognised as a learning center for local governments in Nepal. Municipalities, rural municipalities and provincial governments regularly visit the city to study its approaches to public financial management, urban planning, heritage-led development, waste management, revenue generation and citizen participation. Rather than relying solely on external expertise, many local governments now look to Bhaktapur for practical solutions that have been refined through decades of experience.

Balendra Shah, the Prime Minister of Nepal and former Mayor of Kathmandu Metropolitan City, has publicly expressed his admiration for Bhaktapur’s achievements in heritage conservation, urban management, and local governance, stating that he envisions building a Kathmandu inspired by Bhaktapur’s model. He has recently made private visits to Bhaktapur after assuming the office of Prime Minister to pay homage to its revered deities, reflecting the city’s enduring spiritual and cultural significance. His appreciation illustrates a broader recognition that Bhaktapur is not merely a well-preserved medieval city but also a contemporary model of how cultural identity, accountable governance, and sustainable urban development can successfully coexist.

Bhaktapur’s reputation is increasingly extending beyond Nepal. Government officials, urban planners, researchers and community leaders from India, China, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Mongolia and several European countries have visited the city to understand how a relatively small historic municipality has successfully integrated transparent governance, cultural preservation and financial sustainability. Unlike many internationally funded demonstration projects, Bhaktapur’s achievements have largely been sustained through local leadership, community ownership and revenue generated from heritage tourism, making it an inspiring example of self-reliant urban development.

At a time when the international development community often searches for governance innovations in wealthy nations or rapidly expanding megacities, Bhaktapur offers a different lesson. It demonstrates that effective governance does not depend on the size of a city or the scale of its budget. Rather, it depends on visionary leadership, accountable institutions, active citizen participation and respect for cultural identity.

As cities around the world struggle to balance rapid urbanisation with the preservation of their history and character, Bhaktapur shows that heritage can serve as a powerful driver of sustainable development rather than an obstacle to progress. More than a beautifully preserved medieval city, it has become a living classroom where policymakers, urban planners and local governments can learn how transparency, culture and community can work together to build resilient, inclusive and prosperous cities for the future.

There was a time when reading was simply a hobby to me. I believed it was something people who loved stories did on rainy afternoons or quiet weekends. It solely belonged to those who preferred libraries over shopping malls and sweet handwritten notes over text messages. Never had I imagined that one day I would look at a person peacefully reading a book and think, what a privilege that must be. After experiencing a book slump for a few years, I recently found my way back to reading almost by accident and I haven’t been this happy before.

Yet the rediscovery came with an unsettling realization. Reading had not become difficult because books had lost their magic. It had become difficult because the world around us had completely changed. Today, uninterrupted time, sustained attention, and mental stillness have become luxuries we can rarely afford. In today’s world, reading can no longer be taken as a competition with television or other books but with an entire digitally built economy built to monetize every spare second of our attention.  The greatest irony of our time must be this:  never have we had easier access to books, and never has it felt harder to truly read them. A few years ago, acquiring a book usually meant either visiting a bookstore or borrowing one from the public library. However, today, thousands of classics and contemporary works are widely available within a single click. With the increasing number of digital libraries, e-books, and audiobooks, literature has become more accessible than ever. Information has become abundant.

Attention, however, has become scarce. We are living in an age where every application competes just for our gaze. Every notification demands urgency. Every scroll reveals something newer, better and appealing than the last. We have been consuming hundreds of headlines without even attempting to read the articles beneath them. We skim opinions without examining arguments. We often end up mistaking familiarity with understanding because we have seen a topic repeatedly on our screens. 

On the contrary, reading asks us to do something radically different. It demands patience in an impatient world. It asks us to sit with uncertainty, makes us uncomfortable and forces us to follow complex ideas, to imagine lives different from our own, and to resist the temptation of instant gratification. In hundreds of ways, reading has become an act of quiet rebellion. Because this is not merely about literature. It is about the kind of minds we are cultivating as individuals and as a society. 

Someone who enjoys Fiction is often dismissed as an entertainment seeker, yet it quietly performs one of democracy’s most essential functions: it expands empathy. A novel allows us to feel the fears of a refugee, experience the loneliness of an elderly widow, the ambition of a young woman challenging social expectations, or the moral conflict of someone whose circumstances differ entirely from ours. Statistics can tell us how many people suffer while reading helps us understand what suffering feels like. We live in an increasingly polarized world where empathy should no more be considered a sentimental virtue but a civic necessity. 

Unfortunately, our educational systems fail to nurture such understanding among young students. Too often, reading becomes associated with examinations rather than exploration. Our universities often compel students to memorize summaries instead of engaging with complete texts. Books have become instruments for grades rather than companions for life. Once examinations come to an end, many stop reading altogether because they have never experienced the practice of reading as pleasure or discovery.

The problem however extends beyond schools. Adults are found trapped in a culture that glorifies constant productivity and constant gratification. We proudly announce how busy we are. We measure success by the number of hours worked rather than the quality of our thinking. Leisure increasingly requires justification. Reading for enjoyment is dismissed as laziness by so many only because it does not produce any economic value. Instead of debating thoughtfully, we respond instantly.  Outrage is rewarded more than nuance by algorithms because outrage keeps the viewers engaged. Books reward the opposite. They teach us to take a pause before concluding. They allow us to examine multiple perspectives, and to appreciate complexity.

On any ordinary day, we wake up to notifications buzzing on our mobile phones. We commute to work through traffic while checking emails. We work under constant interruptions and a never-ending cycle of pressures. And during short breaks, we scroll through social media because our attention has already been trained to seek quick rewards. When a book finally finds its way into our hands in the evening, our mind becomes too exhausted to follow even a few pages without drifting elsewhere. This is not a failure of willpower alone. It is the result of living in an economy that profits from distraction. Here technology itself should never be seen as the sole enemy. 

The fact is that digital platforms have introduced millions of people to literature and art, enabled independent authors to reach readers through various online platforms, and made countless books available at a minimum or no cost. The issue is not that we use technology; it is that many digital platforms are intentionally designed to maximize engagement rather than understanding. 

Countries in the world map that consistently perform well in education and development are rarely seen treating reading as an afterthought. Libraries are woven into community life. Little children grow up seeing adults read. Schools never fail to prioritize discussion over memorization. Authors are celebrated not only as entertainers but as contributors to public thought. Reading is embedded deeply into the rhythm of everyday life. In the context of Nepal, we have definitely made significant progress in improving literacy rates over the decades. More children attend school today than ever before and the retention rates are improving. Universities have expanded, and access to education has improved considerably. While these are achievements worth celebrating, literacy should not be confused with a reading culture. Being able to read and choosing to read are fundamentally different. 

Families also have a significant role to play since children imitate what they observe more than what they are instructed to do. A child raised in a home where books occupy shelves grow into more grounded and empathetic adults. A culture that values thoughtful learning ultimately benefits workplaces by producing employees capable of sustained concentration and creative problem-solving. Perhaps the greatest misconception about reading has to be that it is an escape from reality. Because when reading becomes a luxury, thoughtful citizenship becomes one too. And no society can afford that price.

In this digital world most of people’s data and information are being shared, stored, posted, downloaded, forwarded and published on digital spaces that has raised a big concern of privacy and dignity. New forms of Human Rights are emerging every time. One of them is Right to be Forgotten (RTBF). The Right to be Forgotten refers to an individual's right to request the removal, deletion, or de-indexing of personal information from online platforms, search engines, or digital databases when the information is no longer necessary, is inaccurate, outdated, unlawfully processed, or disproportionately infringes upon the person's privacy and reputation. This right is associated with internet privacy. RTBF is derived from the broader category of the right to privacy. 

This right has gained limelight after the case of Google Spain SL, Google Inc v Agencia Española de Protección de Datos, Mario Costeja González (2014), in which the CJEU held for the first time that EU citizens have a right to be forgotten. Costeja objected to the data that was being processed and displayed by the tech giant Google when his name was entered on their search engine on the ground that it is irrelevant in contemporary times and is harming his reputation in the society. The CJEU held that search engine operators must remove links to webpages displayed following the search of an individual’s name that are inadequate, irrelevant, or no longer relevant, or excessive in relation to the purposes of the processing, thereby ruling in favor of recognizing a right to be forgotten. Another instance is on May 29, the Delhi High Court ruled in a batch of over 30 consolidated petitions, led by Laksh Vir Singh Yadav v Union of India. The core issue was whether informational privacy could justify the de-indexing or masking of judicial records in a system committed to open justice. The court held that the right to be forgotten flows from Article 21’s guarantees of dignity and informational privacy. 

For the first time, RTBF is codified and to be found in the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) in addition to the right to erasure. The GDPR provides statutory recognition to the right to be forgotten in the form of the right to erasure under Article 17, Recitals 65 and 66. The individual or “data subject”, as is defined under Article 2 of the GDPR, is granted the right to ask the “controller” to erase the private data without undue delay. Many countries in Europe such as Germany, Sweden, France, Denmark, Norway, Luxembourg, Portugal, Austria, and Spain have developed notable legal provisions regarding the right to be forgotten in their domestic legislation. 

Exploration of the scope of the right to be forgotten and its implications for internet search engine providers is critically important. In the digital age, personal information can remain accessible on the internet indefinitely through search engines, social media, news archives, and online databases. The right to be forgotten seeks to balance the individual’s rights to privacy, dignity, reputation, and data protection against competing interests such as freedom of expression, the public’s right to information, and the public interest. It does not provide an absolute right to erase all online information; rather, each request is assessed based on factors such as the nature of the information, its accuracy, the public interest, and the individual’s role in public life.

In the context of Nepal, the laws dealing about the protection of individual privacy such as the Privacy Act, 2075 (2018), Electronic Transactions Act 2063 (ETA) and The National Penal (Code) Act, 2074, does not incorporate the provision regarding the RTBF. Fundamental rights under the constitution of Nepal recognizes the legal basis of the right to be forgotten. Article 16 (1) provides that every person shall have the right to live with dignity. The right to be forgotten is an integral part of the right to life with dignity. To live a respectful and dignified life in this digital era erasing, deleting, or de-indexing personal information that are irrelevant, outdated, unlawfully processed, damaging individual reputation and career is one of the most fundamental aspects. 

Further, article 17 (2) states that every citizen shall have freedom of opinion and expression and the right to information that at times negates RTBF, for example, when media coverage opposes an individual's dignity-that needs balancing between personal privacy and freedom of the press. Generally, both the CJEU and scholars agree that balance is needed between the right to be forgotten and the freedom of expression. What is undecided is how much weight one right should carry in relation to the other, and who should conduct the balancing. 

Most important Article 28 of The Constitution of Nepal guarantees the right to privacy that states “the privacy of any person, his or her residence, property, document, data, correspondence and matters relating to his or her character shall, except in accordance with law, be inviolable.” This article does not expressly recognize the right to be forgotten. However, it provides a strong constitutional foundation from which such a right can be derived, particularly in the context of the digital age. For instance, the inclusion of “data” and “matters relating to his or her character” is particularly significant. A person is arrested and prosecuted for a criminal offence. newspapers and online news portals publish reports identifying the individual. Several years later, the person is acquitted by the court, but search engines continue to display the earlier news reports whenever the person’s name is searched. The continued online availability of those reports may damage the person’s reputation, employment opportunities, and social standing. 

Based on Article 28, the individual could argue that the continued accessibility of outdated and prejudicial information infringes the privacy of matters relating to his or her character.

The new government which is in discussion of various legal amendments on existing laws must make explicit legal provisions regarding RTBF. Nepal needs to enact proper law for implementation of this right. Any future recognition of the Right to Be Forgotten in Nepal should not be absolute. It should be balanced against public interest, including freedom of expression, freedom of the press, the public’s right to information, and the principle of open justice. For example, information concerning public officials, corruption, serious crimes, or matters of significant public interest should ordinarily remain accessible unless exceptional circumstances justify otherwise.