The closure of the southern transit points by India, in late March, brought unprecedented crisis to landlocked Nepal. The impact was severest in Kathmandu, where two kinds of lines were most obvious: those for kerosene and those of trucks bringing in what used to be left of the Tarai's jungles.
As the political stalemate between Kathmandu and New Delhi persisted, it was a time of uncertainty, a time to take stock. The relationship between the two neighbours was being redefined.
For a privileged few, the shortages meant merely the nuisance of not being able to drive to work. It was the urban poor, those in bazaars and towns, who were hardest hit: interminable waits at the depot to collect rationed kerosene or firewood, loss of business, reduced income and shortage of vital needs, including medicine. Hospitals were without essential supplies and only the severest cases were being treated.
The long-term effects on national economy were not yet apparent, but the immediate impact was clear: almost every economic activity ground to a halt. Industry was at standstill. Travel agencies around the world were warning tourists to stay away. What did this do to the ambitious plans to expand tourism as the mainstay of Nepal's economy? And what was the damage to the Nepali forests this time around? A Government study showed that about 200 hectares of additional forest area was being lost every day.