In the dense forests of western Nepal, the Raute people once lived by a simple code: never settle, never farm. But the community that was called the king of the forest is now shrinking rapidly, just like the forest itself.
The Raute people, Nepal’s last nomadic hunter-gatherers, roamed the forests for centuries with a commitment to independence. They carved wooden bowls, hunted monkeys, and lived without banks, government IDs, or the trappings of modern life. They chose to be nomads, rejected farming, refused to sleep under tin roofs, and turned away every offer of permanent settlement.
Although the Rautes have no documented history, they are widely believed to be descendants of the Suryavanshi kings who abandoned monarchy to live in the forests. Some accounts, including those of the Raute Upliftment Foundation, suggest they trace their lineage to the Thakuri kings of Fukot.[i]
Eventually, constant wars and pressure to surrender to larger kingdoms pushed them toward a nomadic life, leaving behind homes, kingdoms, and property. To preserve their independence, they limited contact with settled communities and avoided disclosing their numbers, fearing it could expose their strength to enemies. Even today, they hold the belief that counting births and deaths is both unnecessary and disrespectful.
They worship natural elements, seeing the sun and moon as gods and stars, clouds, rocks, weather, plants, and animals as deities. Women are not allowed to participate in religious activities and typically avoid speaking to outsiders.
Men are responsible for providing food, primarily through hunting, while women build huts and raise children. They speak a type of Tibeto-Burman language with no written form. They maintain their cultural purity by orally passing down nomadic knowledge, hunting techniques, and religious practices through stories, legends, and rituals.
Following this lifestyle, the Rautes primarily reside in the jungle areas of Salyan and Karnali Province, particularly in the hills and caves of Salyan, Surkhet, Jajarkot, and Dailekh districts.
Their subsistence depends on the forest and barter. Men traditionally felled small trees to carve utensils (for example, madhu honey pots and wooden bowls), which women then exchanged for grains and cloth in nearby villages. Hunting langur and macaque monkeys is also a staple.
But all that is changing. They no longer make wooden bowls. Plastic utensils replace handmade wooden crafts. Their traditional economy, fragile as it was, is collapsing. The community must rely on government relief since they can’t find enough to eat in the dwindling forest and don’t know how to grow food or keep animals. They have now shifted from selling or bartering goods to simply asking for cash or relief.
Since 2015, the government has provided each Raute person with NPR 5,000 (around 38 US dollars) per month. But the rise in food prices, along with limited access to markets, has made this allowance barely enough. Their reliance on external help has become necessary for survival. And, of an estimated 620, only 150 continue to practise a nomadic lifestyle. The government has forcibly settled the rest.
Manmade Onslaught
The jungle is rapidly disappearing due to new roads fragmenting the habitat, heavy traffic displacing wildlife, expanding villages, dams, and logging.
Climate change, also manmade, is adding to the damage. It is disrupting the natural habitat with droughts and unpredictable weather, reducing edible plants, and driving down the numbers of langurs and macaques—a crucial part of the Raute diet.
“It is difficult to find wild tubers and herbs,” said the now deceased Raute leader Surya Narayan Shahi. He added that his people are also frequently confronted with landslides, drying water sources, and the inability to adapt to the changing climate.[ii]
External pressures threaten the Raute’s cultural values and traditions. Diminished access to forest resources undermines their hunter-gatherer lifestyle. This irreversible transition from self-sufficient carving and trading to dependence on handouts leaves the few remaining Raute with no viable path to preserve their traditional way of life.
Alarming Shift to Alcoholism
The most alarming shift in Raute’s life is the rise of alcohol addiction. Those who remain in the forest face hardship, while those dependent on government aid often struggle with alcohol addiction, endangering their health.
Ghanashyam Bhandari, a well-known politician in the Karnali province, flagged this crisis, warning against substance abuse and urging stakeholders to preserve the community’s cultural heritage.
Lately alcohol dependency is becoming a serious threat for the community. Most of them always seen drunk and this has been a social problem as even children are also seen drinking. © Kishor Sharma
Alcoholism is causing high infant mortality due to neglect. Women are drinking even during pregnancy, harming both their health and that of their babies. Alcoholism is also weakening leadership.
Earlier this year, Raute chief Surya Narayan Shahi died from alcohol poisoning, highlighting the detrimental effects of both excessive consumption and poor-quality liquor on the health of young Raute individuals.
This problem is not just self-inflicted. Politicians have been known to provide alcohol to Raute during election seasons in exchange for votes. Nepal’s National Human Rights Commission observes that political actors offer alcohol to the Raute people during elections in exchange for their votes.
From 2018 to 2025, at least 46 preventable Raute deaths occurred, frequently caused by alcohol, malnutrition, and disease.
Caught Between Survival and Dignity
Begging, in Raute tradition, was once a ritual, not a necessity. Known as ‘Chakri’, it was a practice bound by social codes. Raute people would visit local villages after crafting wooden bowls or tools and accept gifts of rice, salt, or millet in return, never demanding, never pleading.
But the new reality is harsher. Today, many Raute are found sitting outside shops or walking door-to-door in cities, asking directly for cash. Sometimes they bang on car windows; sometimes they follow pedestrians, palms open.
It is their survival strategy born out of desperation. The younger Raute, exposed to towns and technology, are adapting quickly to this new model. They know which politicians to approach before elections, and they understand that cameras often bring charity. But elders worry about what is being lost in the process.
The government provides a monthly stipend, as outlined above, but for the Raute, who now eat more rice from the market than roots from the forest, that money disappears quickly. Inflation has made the allowance nearly symbolic.
It has created a strange dependency cycle. While the Raute refuse offers of permanent housing or formal education, they accept cash. That money is often spent quickly on essentials or alcohol.
Anthropologist Dr Dambar Bahadur articulated the problem as follows: “Dependency on government handouts and begging is not just about poverty; it’s about cultural collapse. The Raute are caught between survival and dignity.”[iii]
The loss of livelihood has left them with few options. Some Raute youth briefly work in towns before returning to the forest, bringing smartphones but lacking plans for their future.
The Society for the Preservation of Raute and Other Marginalised Groups (SGP Nepal) asserts that the crisis is about meaning, not just money.[iv]
“They were never beggars,” said an SGP representative. “They were nomads. Now, society calls them beggars because we have taken away the forest and replaced it with cement.”
Yet, it would be unfair to say that modernisation alone is destroying their identity. For women like Gajali Sahi, 22, the real hardship exists within the community. She described how relocation and the chores that come with it, such as preparing new settlements, building houses, fetching water, and cooking, fall entirely on women’s shoulders. At times, she confessed, she wished she had been born outside the Raute community.[v]
Some Raute children have begun attending schools; a few young men have taken up short-term jobs. Once feared, hospitals are now occasionally visited. Women, once barred from makeup or store-bought clothes, now wear slippers and lipstick and carry bags from the market.
But for every step forward, there is resistance. Leaders block education, fearing angering the gods. Some youths, caught between two worlds, return from towns with smartphones in their pockets but no path for the future.
This tension between preserving identity and embracing change is the Raute dilemma. Modern life could bring health, dignity, and opportunity. In contrast, some believe that teaching the Raute to “modernise” risks destroying their identity. To leave them exactly as they are, in the name of identity, might mean honouring tradition but at the cost of their very survival.
External Links:
[i] Raute Upliftment Foundation
[ii] Climate change driving nomadic Rautes out of forests
[iii] The Human Rights Situation of Nomadic Raute Community 2024
[iv] RAUTES: THE LAST NOMADS OF NEPAL
[v] In Pictures: The last nomads of Nepal
Pratikshya Bhatta is a junior editor with Nepal Connect.
