An Outsider's View: Nepalese in the Heart of Tibet
Nepalese in Lhasa: From an outsider's viewpoint, comprehending the Nepali community residing at the core of the Tibetan plateau proves quite challenging. For me, however, studying Nepali in Lhasa is nothing more than a nostalgic pursuit—an effort to resurrect the historical connections between Tibet and Nepal via language and cultural exchange, connections once preserved in monochrome photographs and now re-envisioned in the bright shades of today. To many people, the very thought of learning Nepali in Lhasa appears astonishing.
They stay mostly cut off, just like their diaspora in other places, and are hardly noticed by either the Han Chinese or local Tibetans. Fluency is a common challenge, especially because many do not speak Tibetan or Mandarin well. On top of that, this group has for a long time no longer held the standing that Nepalis in Lhasa once enjoyed.
The incident exposed deep-seated bigotry hidden beneath the city’s secular exterior. While I was strolling along a Lhasa street with two Nepali male companions, a passerby directed obscene, humiliating epithets at them in Tibetan—rooted in the contemporary bias that highland Nepali men engage in sex work.
Even before the First Tibet-Nepal War, the people of the southern foothills were drawn to Lhasa’s prosperity and breathtaking scenery, while the Kathmandu Valley’s gold and silver craftsmanship earned admiration from the northern slopes. These mutual appreciations were woven into a dense network of commerce, political relations, and personal affection that already linked Tibet and Nepal. In time, even food became evidence of this deep cultural exchange.
Within trans-Himalayan trade networks, the coinage minted in the Kathmandu Valley became the primary monetary standard. Dishes such as the countless Mo Mo that appeared in Nepali restaurants and the curry rice (ཤ་འབྲས།) that spread across Lhasa and Ü-Tsang serve as flavorful evidence of this same enduring exchange.
With their substantial economic and military dominance, the Gorkhalis extended their reach northward. This expansion became a historical source of grievance, eventually erupting in the 17th-century Gorkha-Tibet conflicts, where the question of currency sovereignty was a central dispute. At this juncture, one must mention the pivotal Shamarpa ( ཞྭ་དམར་པ། ) of the Karma Kagyu lineage—the 10th incarnation and the younger brother of the 6th Panchen Lama. Shamarpa Chödrup Gyatso was the key controversial figure in the First Tibet-Nepal War.
Born and raised in Tsang, this Rinpoche had stayed in Kathmandu following the 6th Panchen Lama's death in Beijing. As Bahadur Shah's chief Tibetan advisor, he was poisoned by the Gorkhas after their military defeats, although some sources attribute his death to smallpox. That killing provided King Shah with an ideal excuse to hold him responsible for all the setbacks that had occurred since the war began. Religiously, the 10th Shamarpa bequeathed a significant evangelical heritage to Kathmandu.
Historical controversies that seem to have no end, together with wounds that remain raw on both slopes of the Himalayas, are all that endure. The Bagmati's transparent waters have washed away everything connected to the Shamarpa's contentious legacy—condemned by some as treachery against Tibet, yet interwoven with his own heartfelt expressions of homesickness, devotion to his homeland, and the agony of exile. To this very day, visitors to Swayambhunath Temple can still discover abundant traces of his presence.
In Lhasa, the people I was closest to were my Nepali language teacher, then the chef at the teacher's restaurant, and afterward the Deputy Consul of the Nepalese Embassy in Lhasa. The teacher and the diplomat were Brahmins, while the chef, a Gurung, was often mistaken for a Mongolian or Han Chinese in Lhasa.
Prior to the 1650 Nepal-Tibet Treaty, Newar traders had already built large warehouses in various Tibetan regions. Historically, they formed the main part of the Nepalese community throughout Tibet, and in the Nepal-Tibet trade a century ago, they had already proven to be very shrewd businessmen in old Lhasa.
Merchant - Migrant Worker In today's globalized economy, although Newar traders from the Kathmandu Valley still spearhead Nepal's external trade, the Nepalese diaspora across many regions—especially the predominant community in Lhasa—is now composed mainly of migrant laborers, not merchant elites. Most of these workers originate from mountain ethnic groups such as the Magar, Tamang, and Gurung, and are chiefly employed in silver/gold craftsmanship and service occupations.
The inherent gentleness and warmth of the Nepalese people, which have become valuable assets in contemporary service industries, present a fascinating paradox when set against the deference such positions demand—a deference that seems incompatible with the nation's fierce collective pride. However, a closer look shows their kindness reflects personal dignity, while their honor is fully devoted to their ethnic and national identity.
Among those on the Kathmandu-Lhasa route, the Nepalese Vajrayana Buddhist monks (mostly from Sherpa communities) living in Lhasa should not be overlooked. Based on my observations, most Nepalese migrant workers in China receive relatively low monthly wages and endure poor living conditions. Especially in high-cost Lhasa, I would say their existence sits at the bottom rung of society. The majority wire their earnings back to families in the Himalayan foothills.
Regularly traversing the Himalayan divide for purposes of pilgrimage and religious exchange, these clergy members possess a remarkably broad cultural fluency—typically commanding Nepali, Tibetan, basic English, and conversational Chinese.
At the outset of the article, it was noted that in Lhasa's present-day secular society, quite a few locals have reservations about Nepalese people, particularly Nepalese men. In Kathmandu, meanwhile, residents also hold certain biases regarding Tibetans. Most Kathmandu dwellers think Tibetans are highly spiritual, straightforward, down-to-earth, and financially comfortable. Yet a minority in the valley regard them as somewhat "rough"; overall, though, these southern-slope stereotypes seem to be an unconscious compliment.
In this context, another identity that deserves mention is the Tibetan-Nepalese mixed-race individuals. As mixed-race persons, the Nepalese-Tibetan people find it easier to navigate the cultural traditions and daily routines of both the southern and northern slopes. They can carry out trade and business in Nepal on the southern slope, while on the northern slope they can raise families with Tibetans—although traditionally, they tend to select partners of their own ethnic group.
In Lhasa, mixed-race children with Tibetan and Nepalese ancestry are commonly viewed as having a Nepalese father and a Tibetan mother. The Tibetan term "ཁ་ཙ་ར་" (khasar), which is somewhat disparaging, designates such individuals. During earlier times, when the economy was less developed and transport options were scarce—particularly prior to the 1980s Nepalese prohibition of polygamy—this word also carried the connotation that these children were born out of wedlock.
Within Lhasa's social structure, these individuals were frequently pushed to the fringes, regarded as carriers of tainted ancestry and denied any formally acknowledged standing in the community. To be sure, ample evidence exists demonstrating that many Tibetan-Nepali children of mixed heritage were born from genuine affection between their parents and raised within affectionate, enduring cross-cultural households. Yet, prior to the 1980s, the prevailing pattern was that at least one parent—typically the father—failed to genuinely assume the parental responsibilities essential for forging a robust and distinctively cohesive family unit.
My Nepalese male friends in Lhasa frequently recount the age-old love stories of Araniko, a Nepalese architect celebrated across the northern slopes of the Himalayas and as far as Beijing, the Yuan Dynasty capital, more than seven centuries ago. Legend has it that he had over one hundred lovers while living in Lhasa. In the meantime, "Lhasa Sweetheart" Nepalese traders, journeying through the snowy passes along the Kathmandu-Lhasa trade route, have long been acknowledged for keeping a second family in Lhasa.
Among the Nepali community in Lhasa, many shocking romantic tales circulate, and I have personally met some of the "Lhasa lovers." For the most part, these women maintain a relatively independent standing in Lhasa, yet they are often quietly judged for their morality by the Nepali community, which can seriously damage their reputations. The image credit for the White Pagoda of Miaoying Temple in Beijing, a structure designed and constructed by Anigo, goes to the Beijing Municipal Administration of Cultural Heritage.
One woman, whose Nepali husband had been missing for years, discovered that he had established another family in Nanshan and would never return to Lhasa. Forced to rebuild trust on her own, she had to raise their children alone—an example of the deceit and abandonment seen in such situations.
In the Nepali lyrical epic "Muna and Madan", Lakximi Prasad Devkota describes the customary practice of Nepali merchants forming opposite-sex relationships while trading between the northern and southern slopes, with some even potentially establishing families on both sides of the mountain range. Fortunately, the protagonist Madan stays faithful to his wife Muna. Meanwhile, the artwork "Radha and Krishna Walking in a Dense Forest of Flowers" measures 19.1 x 11.1 cm and is held at The Metropolitan Museum, London.
Of course, it was here as well that I uncovered a very delicate and subtle link: performers from Nepal’s northern highlands presenting Indian dance on stage. Yet in reality, how many Munas exist on the far side of the Himalayas, weeping as they wait for their Madans, caught in emotional distress and financial hardship? In May 2023, at Indrachok, Kathmandu, the author photographed a traditional Newar night market, where a wedding musician strolled past two women trading goods. Diet culture and national self-esteem.
At the Pashupatinath Temple in Kathmandu, the author photographed the silhouette of the Mahashivaratri night procession in February 2023. Meanwhile, backstage, once the dance finishes, both Nepali music and dance videos and Bollywood songs are played. In a corner, a Nepali bartender hums along to Hindi lyrics while mixing drinks—at that instant, the line between Nepal and India does not feel so urgent.
Typically, tourists in Lhasa tend to label Nepalese cuisine and culture as Indian, a mistake that often leaves the city’s Nepalese residents confused. Chefs and waiters at Nepalese restaurants in Lhasa, in particular, frequently voice this complaint to me—that tourists conflate Nepal with India, reflecting the strong national pride held by Nepalese people.
In July 2022, with a diplomat friend’s help and authorization, I managed to access the shrine housed in the Consulate General of Nepal in Lhasa, where the Sanskrit manuscript of the Bhagavad Gita had been transported to that high-altitude snowy setting. Yet during Holi, even as they try to set themselves apart from India, they seem to feel a stronger affinity with the shared language and cultural bonds linking them to that country—ties rooted in the civilization of the South Asian subcontinent.
In my art history class, I noticed works by two contemporary artists—Mr. Asha Dangol and Ms. Rajini Uphadhaya Grela—and that was the start of my understanding of Nepal. Their textbook presentations eventually pulled me into that chaotic and mystical South Asian country. One of those works, "Woman" by Rajini Uphadhaya Grela, dates from 1999 and is in the collection of the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, Japan, as catalog number no. 1718.
My encounters with the residents of the snowy highlands, in contrast to the spiritualized image of Nepal found in art and to my numerous travels across the country, offered a more distinct third-party viewpoint. Within that secular setting abroad, the suffering, pain, aspirations, and brief joys of these Nepalese individuals became more apparent to me—things that are seldom visible to outsiders.
Nepali newcomers will keep arriving in Lhasa, yet the familiar faces I once knew will no longer appear in Tibet. In December 2022, after the epidemic that had swept through Lhasa for more than four months finally came to an end, my closest Nepali friends there journeyed back to their homeland overland through the border regions. "Tantro's Dance", Asha Dangol, 2005.
Snowland Memories. In April 2023, the majestic Great Stupa was captured by the author in Kathmandu, Nepal. What has always sparked my curiosity is how these Nepalese people, moving constantly between the snow-covered mountains and Kathmandu, manage to record family connections found only there, digest memories tied to the snowy regions, ease the pain that foreign lands cannot comprehend, and sustain a love that is woven across both sides of the Himalayas.
At the foot of Red Mountain in Lhasa City, in April 2019, the author photographed the Potala Palace in the snow after the storm. To how many tears and smiles left on the plateau by these Nepalese people has that palace, which has historically held countless treasures created by Nepalese artisans, also responded? Like countless Tibetans and pilgrims to the Land of Law, these Nepalese have passed by the foot of Red Mountain and looked up at the Potala Palace countless times.
Turning back to the account of Muna and Madan, the same pure, fervent feeling that Devkota held toward the northern slope makes us conclude that for millennia, people of the southern slope's warm domain have had anticipation and love for Lhasa and the snowy peaks—just as pure and unwavering as the snow on the Himalayan summit. The line goes: “आखिर ठूलो सुनको छाना साँझमा मुहायो , मैदाननोर पोतालामनि हन्लासा नौ मुस्कायो । ” "The golden peak of Potala Palace shines brightly in the night, the majestic city of Lhasa lies at the foot of the Red Palace, smiling softly." It is a lovely, lush, shimmering Lhasa, placed at the plateau's center.