The deep dive: How do Nepalis feel at Indian airports?
Last week, Shambhavi Adhikari took to social media to post about her distressing experience at Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi on October 10. Adhikari, who was en route to Berlin via Delhi to attend the World Health Summit, stated that she was stopped at the airport by immigration officials and questioned extensively about her trip. Despite having all of the required documentation – a visa, an invitation letter, return flight tickets, proof of accommodation – she was detained at the airport for over eight hours without her passport and without any food, drink or bathroom breaks, she claimed. Ultimately, she was deported back to Kathmandu after Nepal Airlines intervened and flew her back home.
On her return to Kathmandu, Adhikari visited the German Embassy and Qatar Airways. Adhikari had taken an Air India flight to Delhi, where a connecting Qatar Airways flight would’ve taken her to Berlin. Neither the German Embassy nor Qatar Airways reported any issues with her paperwork, she said on social media. She then flew to Berlin via Doha on Qatar Airways and entered Germany without problems.
With Adhikari’s initial post gaining traction on social media, the Indian authorities responded. The Indian Ministry of Home Affairs released a press statement on Saturday, November 1, stating that Indian immigration had no role in Adhikari’s deportation and that it was Qatar Airways officials who had decided not to allow her to board due to her “visa validity.” In a response to BBC Nepali, Qatar Airways confirmed that its officials had decided to disallow Adhikari from boarding her next flight. On Tuesday, November 4, Nepali ambassador to India Shankar Sharma met with Qatari Ambassador to India Mohammad Hassan Jabir Al-Jabir and inquired about Qatar Airways’ role in Adhikari’s ordeal in an effort to prevent such incidents from recurring in the future, according to The Kathmandu Post.
Adhikari’s social media post was widely shared, with dozens of Nepalis recounting similar experiences at Indian airports, primarily Indira Gandhi. Manisha Thapa, a public health professional, shared her own humiliating experience traveling from Delhi to Bogota, Colombia, to attend the International Conference on Family Planning. She, too, claimed that she was deported from India despite having all the necessary paperwork. Kusumsheela Bhatta, a public health officer with the government of Nepal, was also deported alongside Thapa. Neither of them was given any reason for their deportation. Many others recalled humiliating treatment at the hands of Indian authorities, including being spoken down to in Hindi and questions over how Nepalis could afford holidays in foreign lands.
I, too, have had similar experiences at Delhi Airport. In 2017, my Air India flight from Vienna to Delhi was delayed on the tarmac, and I missed my connecting flight to Kathmandu. When we arrived at Indira Gandhi Airport, officials, including Air India representatives, spoke to everyone else in English, except for us, the two or three Nepalis, who were immediately spoken to in Hindi. The first question they asked me was “tu Nepal se hai?” using the lower register “tu” rather than the more respectful “aap.” They told us to spend the night in the airport itself when all other (white) passengers with missed connecting flights were given hotel rooms. It was only after arguing with them in English, not Hindi, that they agreed to provide us with the hotel rooms we were entitled to.
My experience, though, pales in comparison to the humiliation that many others have faced. What happened to Adhikari might be attributed to Qatar Airways officials, but it does not discount the experiences of the many other Nepalis who reported similar harassment from Indian officials, whether they work at immigration or for one of the airlines. It wouldn’t be fair to chalk up their ordeals to individual bad apples or a misunderstanding of the rules; the sheer number of complaints suggests that the problem may be more political and socio-cultural.
At times, India takes the drastic step of stepping out from behind the curtain and openly flexing its political muscle. In 2015, India imposed an unofficial blockade on a country still reeling from devastating twin earthquakes. The Indian government has consistently denied being behind the blockade, but numerous media reports suggest otherwise. In 2019, Subramaniam Swamy, an influential politician from the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), stated that the blockade was a “foolish thing” done at the advice of bureaucrats. The blockade crippled Nepal, bringing life to a screeching halt. Critical medicines were in short supply. Suddenly, we were cooking on open fires because there was no cooking gas, and walking or cycling everywhere since there was no petroleum.
The 2015 blockade soured Nepal-India relations like never before. It didn’t help that politicians stoked anti-India sentiment to their own political advantage. KP Sharma Oli rose to power on a platform of strident anti-Indian nationalism and went on to become prime minister four times. Relations have never quite recovered. While people-to-people relations remain as strong as ever, Nepalis by and large are deeply suspicious of the Indian government. Despite cultural affinity, there is a large psychological distance between Nepal and India, where many Nepalis feel like India treats them with condescension.
On a more cultural level, Nepalis are familiar figures. We share phenotypes, religions, and cultures. But Nepalis also exist in the Indian imagination as stereotypes — security guards, domestic workers, prostitutes, momo wallahs. Nepalis are thus culturally close but structurally inferior, framed by servitude and dependence. These preconceptions are perhaps what linger in the unconscious minds of bureaucrats and immigration officials, leading to situations like those Nepalis recounted on social media this past week.
Last year, in the Indian state of Odisha, a young Nepali woman, Prakriti Lamsal, died by suicide after being harassed by her former boyfriend. When Nepali students at the same university protested, demanding an investigation into Lamsal’s death, they were hounded, berated, beaten, and humiliated by the university authorities. One staff member said that the philanthropy of the university’s founder was larger than Nepal’s budget, among other derogatory remarks. Eventually, the staff members apologized (or were made to apologize), and the state government itself ordered an investigation. However, this instance, too, was yet another manifestation of the condescension with which many ordinary Indians treat Nepalis.
India is contemptuous, and Nepal is resentful. Nepalis internalize the treatment they receive at Indian hands, leading to suspicion, fear, and resentment. This allows Nepali politicians to use those emotions to sway the public and use India as a bogeyman. Ultimately, neither India nor Nepal benefits; only unscrupulous politicians do.
Numerous postcolonial scholars have demonstrated how the empire perpetuates itself through everyday practices. Imperial power reinforces itself through domesticity, social norms, hierarchies, bureaucracy, and labor relations. The empire, to paraphrase Homi Bhabha, also requires the exercise of power through exclusion and surveillance to continually renew its authority. In South Asia, India has supplanted England as the empire. And it must assert itself through the everyday if it is to remain the hegemon. Nepalis at the airport, Nepalis at the land border, Nepalis in domestic work, Nepalis at the gates — we are all subject to this exercise.