Nepalgunj

Nepalgunj is a comparatively young city with an old setting. The western Terai was ceded to British India after the Anglo-Nepalese War of 1814–16 and returned to Nepal in 1860, in the block of districts known as the Naya Muluk, the "new country", as payment for help during the Indian Rebellion of 1857. To hold and profit from the regained plains, a market town grew on the frontier in the following decades, drawing merchants and artisans, many of them Muslim families from Awadh and other parts of northern India.

The town prospered on cross-border trade in timber, grain and cloth, and on the traffic between India and the hill districts behind it. It also acquired a religious focus in the Bageshwari temple, a shrine known across western Nepal. Malaria kept the plains thinly settled until control programmes in the 1950s and 1960s, after which people came down from the hills in large numbers and the town's population and hinterland grew quickly.

The second half of the 20th century made Nepalgunj a regional capital in fact if not in name: the administrative centre of Banke district, the site of the airport that links Karnali's roadless districts to the rest of the country, and the market for a wide stretch of the mid and far west. It grew through the Maoist conflict of 1996–2006 as families moved in from insecure hill districts, and it has had episodes of communal and political unrest, including during the Madhesh movements that followed the 2015 constitution. Today it is a sub-metropolitan city in Lumbini Province and the largest urban centre in Banke district.

Nepalgunj is the most obviously plural city in western Nepal. Hindu and Muslim communities have lived side by side here since the town was founded, and the skyline of the old quarter mixes temple finials with minarets. Christian congregations, Tharu families from the surrounding countryside and hill migrants speaking Nepali all add to the mixture, and Awadhi, Hindi, Urdu and Nepali are heard in the same street.

The festival calendar reflects that. Dashain and Tihar fill the bazaar in autumn, Chhath brings crowds to ponds and riverbanks at dawn and dusk, Holi is thrown with Terai enthusiasm in spring, and the two Eids are public occasions with prayers, visiting and sweets. Weddings are large and loud, with brass bands and processions through the streets, and the film music, clothing and food of northern India are as familiar here as anything from Kathmandu.

Manners are those of the plains and lean conservative. Dress is covered, greetings are made with palms together or with a salaam depending on the household, and shoes are left at every threshold. The city is used to traders, aid workers and pilots rather than tourists, and foreign visitors attract friendly curiosity. Relations between communities are a live subject locally, and outsiders are wise to listen rather than opine.

About 140,000 people live in the sub-metropolitan city, one of the biggest urban centres of the western Terai. The streets are a constant flow of cycle rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, motorcycles and hand carts, and the working day is split by the heat: shops and offices open early, empty in the early afternoon, and fill again in the cooler evening, when the pond and the main crossroads become the places to be.

Trade drives the economy. Goods, produce, fuel and building materials move across the border at Rupaidiha, wholesalers here supply shops through the mid and far west, and agriculture in Banke district brings rice, sugarcane, mustard and vegetables to market. The airport supports a second economy of flights, freight and aid logistics into Karnali, and the city has hospitals, colleges, government offices and the regional bases of many non-governmental organisations. Many families also depend on work in India or the Gulf.

The everyday problems are heat, dust and water. Groundwater levels and drinking water quality are recurring concerns, air quality is poor in the dry months, and winter fog can shut the airport for days. Urban growth has been rapid and largely unplanned, drainage is overstretched in the monsoon, and employment for a young population is the issue that dominates local politics.

Nepalgunj eats better than its size suggests, because two traditions meet here. One is the Muslim cooking brought from Awadh: kebabs grilled and griddled over charcoal, biryani layered with spiced meat and rice, korma and slow-cooked mutton, and breads from plain roti to rich, flaky paratha. The other is the Nepali daal bhaat served everywhere — rice, lentils, a seasonal vegetable, greens and a chilli chutney — with Tharu dishes from the surrounding villages, including river fish, snails and steamed rice-flour dumplings, appearing at homes and homestays.

Street food is a genuine pleasure and cheapest in the evening. Samosa and pakora come out of the pan all day, chatpate is mixed to order from puffed rice, potato, chilli and lemon, panipuri is sold from glass cases, and momo and chow mein brought by hill migrants have become standard. Sweet shops turn out barfi, peda, rasbari and jalebi, and thick curd is sold in clay pots.

Drinks answer the climate. Tea is boiled with milk and sugar and drunk all year; lassi, sugarcane juice pressed at the roadside, green coconut and cold sherbets carry the city through the hot months. Mangoes, lychees, guava and citrus from the Terai orchards arrive in season, and the local market for spices and ghee reflects both sides of the border.