Nepal must look to the examples set by countries that have successfully reversed their brain drain, creating targeted programmes and incentives to bring their youth back
Every year, a growing wave of young Nepalese leaves the country, driven by the promise of better education, brighter career prospects and higher living standards abroad. This trend has become more than just a personal choice for individuals and families; it has evolved into a societal phenomenon reshaping Nepal's fabric. The allure of international education is undeniable. Studying at world-class universities exposes students to advanced knowledge, diverse cultures, technological innovation and global networks. These experiences help prepare well-rounded individuals to thrive in a rapidly changing world. For many families, having a child settle in countries like Canada, Australia, the United States or Japan is a point of pride, a symbol of success that is celebrated and admired.
But behind the excitement and pride, there is a deeper story unfolding. When our young workforce leaves, they don't just take their dreams and ambitions with them; they also take away the potential to contribute to Nepal's industries, innovation and economy. The skills and expertise they acquire, often after years of nurturing and investment at home, are too frequently used in foreign economies. The home country is left with little more than the memory of their promise, while other nations benefit from their talent and drive. This cycle is self-reinforcing; the more we celebrate those who make it abroad, the more we encourage others to follow, and the harder it becomes for local institutions and industries to retain or attract back the talent they desperately need.
Looking at our neighbours, we see a different story. India and China, for example, have found ways to turn the tide and bring their brightest minds back home. India's government has launched programmes like the Ramanujan Fellowship and INSPIRE, offering grants and prestigious positions to young scientists and researchers. China's Thousand Talents Plan goes even further, providing returning professionals with housing, research funding and other incentives. These countries have recognised the value of their human capital and have invested in creating opportunities that make coming home attractive. On the other hand, countries like Pakistan, Bangladesh and Nepal continue to struggle with retaining their young talent, unable to offer the same gravity that pulls their citizens back.
In Nepal, the numbers speak for themselves. Last year alone, over 112,000 students received permits to study abroad, heading to 66 different countries. Most choose destinations like Japan, Canada, Australia, the UK and the USA, with Japan recently becoming the most popular. South Korea, too, is rapidly rising in appeal. Despite these clear trends and the government's awareness of them, there is a sense of national amnesia, deliberate or unconscious neglect of the consequences of this mass migration. Why does this issue persist, seemingly ignored by those in power and society?
The answer lies in a complex web of interests and systemic shortcomings. First, educational consultancies have become influential players in this ecosystem. With deep ties to airlines and foreign colleges, they operate on a commission-based model that thrives on the outflow of students. Their lobbying power is significant, and their interests often align with those in government who benefit from maintaining the status quo. Efforts to reform the system are routinely stymied in other sectors plagued by corruption and vested interests.
Second, there is the economic factor. Remittances from Nepalis working and studying abroad now support more than a quarter of the country's GDP, acting as a crucial stabiliser for the economy. Rather than investing in strengthening the domestic education system, the government has found ways to profit from the exodus. Taxes on tuition fee transfers to foreign institutions have been raised, generating millions in revenue each year. Education, rather than being a sector for national development, has become a national revenue stream, with only a small fraction of the national budget allocated to improving it.
Third, and perhaps most troubling, is the state of Nepal's own education and job market. The quality of education remains low, with curricula often outdated and lacking in practical, skill-based training. The job market offers limited opportunities, leaving many young people frustrated and disillusioned. For them, migration is not just an attractive option; it is often seen as the only viable path to a better future. The country is not just failing to retain its talent; it is failing to create the conditions where talent can thrive.
Is there a way out of this collective amnesia? The answer is yes, but it requires a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths and make bold, sustained changes. Nepal must look to the examples set by countries that have successfully reversed their brain drain, creating targeted programmes and incentives to bring their youth back and give them reasons to stay. It must break the grip of vested interests that profit from the current system and invest seriously in transforming its education sector, making it relevant, practical, and connected to the job market's needs.
If we continue on the current path, the consequences will be dire. Nepal risks becoming a nation of older adults, with a shrinking workforce and a growing dependency burden. The exodus may not be stopped overnight, but it can be slowed and reversed if we act now. Our youth are our greatest asset. It's time to stop celebrating their departure and start building a country they want to call home. National amnesia is a luxury Nepal can no longer afford.
Verma is an entrepreneur and teaches management in Kathmandu
