Image: San Francisco Chronicle
Labour is Nepal’s biggest export. But who gets to leave and where they can go is now a class issue. People have always left because there aren’t enough chances here. What’s changed is where they end up. As routes open from the Gulf to the West, your destination has become a sign of your family’s money and status, rather than just your skill.
Nepalis leave in three main streams. First, the cheap, low-return move to India, easy because of location and politics. Second, the mid-tier flow to Gulf countries and Malaysia—more expensive but pays better. Third, the most desired leap: to wealthy Western, Pacific or East Asian nations like Australia, South Korea or Canada. The rewards are high, but so are the walls you have to break through. Your path is determined as much by resources as by ambition.
And the cost is brutal. Getting to Qatar costs a worker 1.14 times Nepal’s average yearly income per person. Saudi Arabia or Malaysia cost around 80% of that. Most migrants borrow at crushing interest rates—around 27%—just to get there. Nepal made a “free-visa, free-ticket” law in 2015 to stop price gouging, but in reality it’s barely working. Agencies still charge ten times the legal limit. About 85% of migrants use informal loans. In other words, their journey starts with debt.
That economic map shapes geography. In richer provinces like Bagmati and Gandaki, people are moving towards high-cost, high-return destinations. Between 2011 and 2021, these areas registered over 19 percentage points more migrants heading to wealthy Western and Asian countries. In the poorest provinces, like Lumbini and Karnali, India is still the main destination owing to pure affordability. Where you go shows who can buy a ticket to the world.
Money at home decides everything. Across all wealth levels, fewer are going to India now. But the biggest shift is in the middle. For the richest 10%, choosing a wealthy country is rising fast. For the bottom 30%, the Gulf is still the only real option. The idea that global movement gives everyone a fair shot? In Nepal it’s crushed by how much cash you have.
Yet cash isn’t the only thing that matters. Education, caste as well as family history decide the path, too. A home with a highly educated adult is far more likely to send someone to a premium destination. So are high-caste families, especially Brahmins and Chhetris, who tap into old networks and hidden privilege. Marginalised groups, like Terai Janajatis, leave less and have fewer places to go. History travels with you.
That split shows in how money sent home is used. About 70% goes to daily survival. Another fifth pays back loans. Education is a top secondary use, but real investment is rare. The government tried to steer remittances into savings bonds, but almost no one bit. For many migration is just survival.
Yes, the money flowing back is huge: a quarter of GDP. But the hidden cost is higher. When the only way up is to get out, the local economy suffers. Skills don’t grow. Businesses can’t find workers. Dreams detach from what the country can offer.
In theory migration can build a nation. But that depends on who leaves, where they go and what comes back. In Nepal it looks more like a class-based lottery. The poorest send their bodies to India. The middle class send their muscle to the Gulf. The rich send their talent to the West. Every path brings back money but only some bring back a future.
Where a Nepali lands abroad says more about the gap between rich and poor at home than about the promise of a foreign shore. The cruel joke is that Nepalis have never been more mobile—but the rewards are still for the few. The poor go far. The rich go farther. ■
