- Residents of Mulkharka, largely from the Indigenous Tamang community, learned only in 2023 about plans for the Nagmati Dam near their settlement on the northern edge of Kathmandu and now strongly oppose it, saying officials highlighted benefits but hid social, environmental and safety risks.
- Locals fear displacement as well as loss of forests, rituals, grazing land and medicinal plants, with estimates of up to 80,000 trees cut, increased human-wildlife conflict and erosion of ancestral ties to the land.
- Critics and engineers warn the $190 million dam is unnecessary and systemically risky, citing weak environmental assessments, seismic vulnerability and catastrophic flood potential for downstream Kathmandu if the dam fails.
- As Nepal heads into parliamentary elections, Mulkharka residents want the dam debated at the ballot box calling for development models that prioritize community consent, ecological safety and accountability.
MULKHARKA, Nepal — Ashok Tamang’s first glimpse of his community’s future flickered on a projector screen inside a local monastery.
It was July 2023, and a few dozen people had gathered at the Sonam Choeling Monastery in Mulkharka, a small settlement tucked within Shivapuri Nagarjun National Park on the northern edge of Nepal’s capital, Kathmandu. As the slides shifted, so did the mood among a few attendees as they saw plans of a dam that would soon be constructed near their settlement.
For many in that room, including Tamang, it was the first time they had heard of the Nagmati Dam, as officials spoke of its height and capacity. They promised progress would come along.
“They only told us about the benefits of the dam — we would have better roads, better business and better income,” says Tamang, sitting outside his house overlooking the hazy Kathmandu Valley. “They never told us about the risks. Now that we know, we wholeheartedly oppose this project.”
The idea for the dam took shape in the early 2010s, with plans to construct the 95-meter (311-foot) barrier — as tall as the Statue of Liberty in New York — on the Nagmati stream to collect monsoon runoff and release it during the dry season. Officials say the dam, spread over 50.7 hectares (125 acres) of land — the size of as many as 72 soccer fields — would help revive the holy Bagmati River that runs past the Hindu temples of Pashupatinath, Guheshwori and Gokarneshwor Mahadev (where the water today mixes with sewage), ease Kathmandu’s chronic water shortages and generate electricity, though construction is yet to begin.
However, more than three years after that meeting and the government’s endorsement of the project in 2024, many residents fear it could displace their Indigenous settlement in Mulkharka and surrounding areas, while experts warn of significant environmental risks. With Nepal now heading into parliamentary polls in March, they say the dam — and other haphazard development projects that threaten the environment and communities — should be an election issue.
An Indigenous issue
Mulkharka is about a 45-minute drive from Kathmandu’s bustling Pashupatinath Temple, yet the city loses its grip quickly. Perched on a hilltop, the settlement overlooks the rolling hills and the Kathmandu Valley below. But while Mulkharka lies within the capital’s municipal jurisdiction, it still looks and feels like a village: Dirt roads twist through the community and basic services are scarce.
The Indigenous Tamang people make up nearly 66% of Mulkharka’s total 2,042 households, and already feel neglected by the state, say the dam will further push them to the margins. With the dam located in Mulkharka, many say its construction will affect their rituals and livelihoods that are closely associated with the forest.
“When the construction starts, our forests will be destroyed,” says Kul Bahadur Tamang, another Mulkharka resident. “We already have bears and leopards destroying our crops and killing our cattle, and this will only increase human-wildlife conflict. We are already losing the medicinal plants we find in the forest, and we won’t be able to graze our cattle or collect firewood when the dam comes. This will push us away from our ancestral lands.”
The dam’s environmental impact assessment estimates that nearly 80,000 trees will be cut to make way for the project, though some environmental experts claim that entire sections of the Kartike and Deurali hills, with tens of thousands of trees, would be bulldozed for the project. The government assessment does not include such details, and the claim cannot be independently verified.
Around Mulkharka’s forests, authorities have already pinned the trees with blue number plates, marking them for felling. Experts warn that even with laws requiring 10 saplings to be planted for every tree felled, the loss could prove harmful for Kathmandu, as forests in Shivapuri Nagarjun serve as a vital green buffer absorbing pollutants and carbon dioxide. The project will also sever the historic trade route that once connected Kathmandu to Tibet, passing through Mulkharka and Helambu.
The Nagmati Dam is the latest in a list of contentious infrastructure projects that have become flashpoints in Nepal’s struggle over progress and preservation. Near Kathmandu, the Newa people of Khokana have been resisting a “national pride” highway project slicing through their farms and temples, while the Tamangs and other groups in Bojheni oppose the Tamakoshi-Kathmandu power transmission line, which they say is being built against their will.
In eastern Nepal, the Indigenous Yakthung (or Limbu) community is waging a relentless fight against a cable car project that would destroy thousands of sacred trees in Mukkumlung, while residents in Lungbasamba accuse hydropower companies of encroaching on the sacred lands of the Bhote Singsa people.
Kul Bahadur says that developers often come with false promises to win local support for infrastructure projects. Before construction began on Dhap Dam, some 2 kilometers (1.2 miles) upstream from the proposed Nagmati site, in 2015, he recalled officials promising blacktopped roads and booming businesses. Instead, the community has been left with dust-choked paths and weekend day-trippers heading to Dhap.
They say many visitors could be deterred by the national park entry fee — 100 rupees ($0.69) per person for locals and more for foreigners and vehicle permits — and even those who visit seldom return. Locals have been urging park authorities to waive such fees for domestic tourists.
“The Nagmati Dam will be another false promise,” Kul Bahadur says. “If we speak up, they call us anti-development, but the dam will neither bring change nor benefit the locals.”
Experts such as Kalpana Bhattachan, vice president of the National Indigenous Women’s Federation of Nepal, says that instead of enticing locals with massive infrastructure projects, the government should focus on preserving their traditional settlements. She suggested turning the Tamang settlement into a “model village” could draw both domestic and foreign tourists, much like the Thakali village in Marpha in northern Nepal’s Mustang district.
“Ironically, the Indigenous people who have the ownership of the land and the forests risk being displaced from big infrastructure projects,” Bhattachan says. “They don’t have rights to their own lands and are being made squatters.”
‘Unrealistic and unnecessary’
Shrawan Kumar Sharma, an environmental activist, has been studying the Nagmati Dam for years and is a fierce critic of the project. With its massive cost of $190 million, capacity to store more than 8 billion liters (2.1 billion gallons) of water, and the environmental risks it carries, he calls the project “unrealistic” and “unnecessary.”
“As long as the river banks are encroached and settlements continue to pollute, Bagmati saying that a dam will clean the river is just empty claims,” Sharma says.
He also slammed Nagmati’s environmental impact assessment, accusing politicians and interest groups of greenlighting the dam. Experts have long criticized the superficial scrutiny of Nepal’s flawed environmental assessments, pointing out that national infrastructure projects are often entangled in corruption scandals involving business elites and politicians.
Many locals, including Ashok and Kul Bahadur, accuse Nagmati’s environmental assessment of ignoring community consensus, instead relying on a handful of community representatives to gain the dam’s approval. They say many community members remain unaware of the risks, and a few people from within the community were manipulating them for personal gain.
“The government is only looking at the direct benefits of Nagmati Dam,” Sharma says. “The indirect loss, including threats to local biodiversity, Indigenous populations and future risks posed by the dam due to seismic activities, has not been entirely considered. Nagmati is a project that shouldn’t be imagined or built.”
Other experts have also sounded the alarm on the viability of a large reservoir placed upstream of a dense urban population, on weathered rock and within a narrow gorge with steep abutment slopes, significantly increasing sensitivity to seismic shaking, slope instability and foundation deformation.
While officials at the Bagmati improvement project have called the project “one of the most suitable options,” some engineers have associated the dam with a “sword hanging over Kathmandu,” warning that a dam break could prove catastrophic. When complete, the dam will release approximately 450 l (119 gal) of water downstream into the Bagmati River every second.
Ramesh Kumar Maskey, professor of hydraulics and hydropower engineering at Kathmandu University and founder of the Water, Energy & Infrastructure Research Laboratory, says that Nagmati’s proximity to the Kathmandu Valley eliminates natural floodplain buffers that would otherwise attenuate dam‑break flows.
He says that scenario‑based dam‑break analyses indicate that, in a worst‑case failure, flood waves could reach downstream settlements such as Gokarna in less than one hour and Pashupati, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in about 90 minutes, leaving minimal warning or evacuation time.
“The principal concern is not technical feasibility alone, but the very narrow margin for error,” Maskey says “This means the technical and geographical conditions of the site leave very little room for engineering or operational oversight without resulting in catastrophic consequences. The Nagmati Dam is technically possible but systemically risky. It demands a higher burden of proof than conventional projects.”
Sharma, however, says there is little pushback against the project due to its spiritual significance. People have long dreamed of a clean Bagmati, and many may be willing to overlook the dam’s flaws to achieve that goal.
Meanwhile, the Asian Development Bank, which is financing the Nagmati Dam, says it is committed to supporting Nepal’s development initiatives while prioritizing the well-being of communities and the environment. It says detailed geotechnical assessments have been carried out, including seismic risk analysis and flood risk analysis, while an independent panel of experts will review them.
“The project is currently in the preparatory stage,” says Arun S. Rana, principal project officer at the Asian Development Bank’s Nepal mission. “No decisions regarding project financing or construction will be made until all required environmental and social due diligence processes are satisfactorily completed.”
Election agenda
As Nepal approaches parliamentary elections on March 5, new parties and faces are challenging the old political order. Yet many voters in places like Mulkharka see the change as cosmetic, as women and candidates from marginalized communities — including Indigenous communities — continue to be sidelined from key positions of power.
Bhattachan says this reflects a political culture passed down from generations, which has mostly sidelined Indigenous issues, even when Indigenous communities have been central to Nepal’s defining political movements, from the decade-long Maoist insurgency to the abolition of the monarchy and birth of the republic in 2008.
“The knowledge and lessons haven’t been passed down to the newer generation,” she says “Those who understand our issues rarely make it to policymaking positions. Indigenous people themselves need to reach those decision-making spaces.”
In Mulkharka, locals are now demanding that their representatives listen. They want the issue carried to the ballot, and locals like Man Bahadur Tamang are pushing the agenda relentlessly, even though they are less hopeful.
Man Bahadur says that most of Mulkharka’s elected representatives come from non-Indigenous communities. Every election cycle, they promise to champion Indigenous issues, but once elected, those commitments quickly disappear, eroding trust in local leadership.
“If Indigenous people from our own communities don’t contest and win from here, then who will fight for our rights? Who will bring them to us?” Man Bahadur says “This time, we will hold them accountable when they come asking for votes, but sadly, none of the candidates or parties have so far backed their agenda and spoken against the dam construction.”
Experts like Sharma argue that this should not just be an election agenda but become a part of Nepal’s broader development agenda. The government, he says is selling “dreams of development” while largely ignoring ground realities. He added that Nepal needs to “reimagine and review” its development narrative amid the risks posed by large-scale infrastructure projects.
Maskey also says Nepal needs to “transition from a project‑centric development model toward a system‑centric, basin‑scale planning approach,” where structural and nonstructural alternatives are rigorously compared, while effectively analyzing social and environmental risks.
Meanwhile, Mulkharka residents, once intimidated by the authorities, also favor a just development model. Ashok says that responsibility rests not just on the community but their elected representatives, too, adding that they will vote for a candidate who will stand with them against the dam. But for now, inspired by Indigenous movements from Khokana to Bojheni and Mukkumlung, they stand defiant on the land their ancestors nurtured, refusing to be erased or ignored.
“Nagmati Dam shouldn’t be made,” Ashok says passionately. “We are ready to die, and we will keep fighting against it.”
Credits
This story first appeared on Mongabay
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