I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until my grandmother left this world. Now she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom.

Some interesting stories I came across during documentation of Tharu Indigenous folklore Originally published on Global Voices A Tharu woman from Kailali District of Western Nepal with tattoos on her legs. Photo by Indu Tharu, used with permission. This post is part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” This series offers insight into the lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples to build connections across regions, center Indigenous experiences, and share the stories of leaders, activists, community members, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here . As a child, I used to sit with my grandmother near a borais ( a small earthen pot used to make fire) during the harsh winter days. I would listen to her stories of benevolent and malevolent characters — djinns, spirits, ghosts, witches and wizards, trees, birds and animals that had special significance in the Tharu culture and tradition. She used to sing folk songs and then explain their meaning. I never thought of documenting the Indigenous Tharu folklore until she left this world. Now that she is no more with us, I yearn for those priceless words of wisdom. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to join hands with Amrit Sufi and Subhasish Panigrahi , who have not only been documenting oral culture in India but have also inspired and helped many culture and tradition lovers document their own cultures. Documenting Indigenous folklore is time-consuming work. One needs to spend time with the communities before they are comfortable enough to open up and share their folktales, songs, phrases and idioms, not to mention their personal experiences. While documenting Tharu oral culture in eastern Nepal, I came across many interesting facts that would reveal untold facets of Indigenous stories if researched further. A tattoo has many stories to tell. A fish tattoo on the hand of Bhuti Devi from Nepal's Sunsari District. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. Morangsair: A song of seasonal migration When I recorded a folk song called “Morangsair” or “Morangesari,” which is still sung in the eastern part of Nepal’s southern plains, I learned about the seasonal migration of young men from the Saptari District , in the easternmost part of Madhesh Province to Morang District of Koshi Province in eastern Nepal where it was more fertile and provided work for men wanting to earn some extra money. Sunsari District , named after the Sursair River (nowadays called “Sunsari River”), was part of the Morang District before 1962. Now, we have to cross two rivers, the Koshi River and Sunsari River, to get to Sunsari (earlier Morang) from Saptari. The journey used to be much more difficult in those times, before bridges were built. The folk song is the lament of a young woman who is pleading with her husband not to go to Morang. She talks about the dense forest, the hot climate and the Sursair River, which he would need to cross to get to Morang. However, the song doesn’t mention the Koshi River, which is the biggest river in Nepal and lies ahead of the Sunsari River on the way to Morang. In the video below, Chandrakala Chaudhary from Itahari, Sunsari District, sings “Morangsair”, also called “Morangesari”: Researching further, I learned that the current Koshi River had been flowing many kilometres east of where it is now. In the Indian part, the river has shifted almost 100 kilometres west. Also, the Ganges River is called “Sursuri” or “Sursari” in the Guru Granth Sahib , a sacred Hindu scripture. The Sursair and Koshi Rivers eventually terminate in the Ganges. Biyahi: When a river is named after a married woman Talking with a Tharu elder, Mahabir Chaudhary, in Nepal’s Saptari District, I came across an interesting fact: A river and its tributary have been named after the Tharu words for a married woman. The river has been renamed “Behai” by the Nepali-speaking administrators. However, according to Tharu elders, the river’s original name is “Biyahi,” meaning the “first wife” in Kochila Tharu or Eastern Tharu language. A tributary called “Samdahi” feeds the river. Samdahi is the word for “second wife” in Eastern Tharu. The Samdahi River and Biyahi River, after the confluence, continue flowing as the Biyahi River. Sabudana ke gachhi: The tattoo motif that tells the story of sago pearls Kashia Chaudhary from Nepal's Sunsari District with a sago palm and marigold tattoos on her lower arms. Photo by Sanjib Chaudhary, used with permission. These days, sabudana or sago found in the markets is made mainly from cassava root starch. However, traditionally sago pearls were also made from the pith of sago palms. I came to find out about this process of making sago pearls during an interview with elderly Eastern Tharu-speaking women. One of them showed a tattoo that looked like a palm tree and said that it was sabudana ke gachhi . “Gachhi” is a Tharu word for a tree. She also told me that sabudana used to be made from a palm tree. I then researched further and found that in the past they used to cut down the palm trees, scrape the starchy core from the trunk and process it further to make sago pearls. The tradition is still prevalent in some southeastern countries. There are many more stories I have heard while documenting Tharu oral culture that need to be told to a wider audience. But I still yearn to recall the stories told to me by my grandmother while sitting together by the fireside on chilly winter days. Written by Sanjib Chaudhary

“The breastfeeding room was always there. But there was no-one to bring my baby to me.” Originally published on Global Voices Workers at a garment factory in Gazipur, Bangladesh. Image via Flickr by Solidarity Center. CC BY 2.0 . In April 2026, Bangladesh’s Parliament amended the country’s labour law , extending maternity benefits for eligible workers from 112 to 120 days, or approximately four months. Yet for many women in the country’s garment factories, the harder question begins when that leave ends: Who cares for their babies while they return to shifts that may last 10 to 14 hours? The pressure is not limited to garment workers. Across Bangladesh, working mothers often depend on relatives or informal care networks, while affordable, quality childcare remains limited . The International Labour Organization (ILO) has noted that Bangladesh’s traditional family-dependent care system is under pressure as patterns of work and migration change. For low-income workers with long or unpredictable hours, that gap can be especially difficult. International brands and factories increasingly point to maternity policies, breastfeeding rooms and on-site daycare facilities as signs of progress. The question is whether those facilities are adequately staffed, accessible during long shifts and genuinely usable. Morsheda, 33, originally from Narsingdi , has worked in the garment industry for 15 years and currently works at a factory in Gazipur. She was interviewed in person by Global Voices in Gazipur in July 2026 for this article. After four months of maternity leave, she returned to work while her five-month-old baby remained with the child’s paternal grandmother. Before reaching the production floor, she prepares meals, cleans the house and gets her older child ready for school. “Buyers come and talk about different policies and workers’ rights. But our duty doesn’t get any shorter. We still work at least 10 hours a day, and with overtime it becomes 13 or 14 hours,” Morsheda said. “Sometimes I worked from eight in the morning until ten at night. My body was exhausted, my breast milk leaked, but I had to clean myself and continue working.” The factory had a breastfeeding room , but access was another matter. “The breastfeeding room was always there. But there was no one to bring my baby to me.” When her older child was an infant, Morsheda’s mother briefly stayed with her and brought the baby to the factory. Later, she relied on a paid caregiver who would not make repeated journeys for breastfeeding. Her five-month-old baby now stays with the child’s paternal grandmother, who brings the infant to the factory twice a day. “I have to finish the hourly production target before I go; otherwise, the supervisor gets angry.” Morsheda said. Her experience reflects a wider childcare problem documented in urban Bangladesh, where formal options can be limited or unaffordable and families piece together care around work. For garment workers, that can mean moving children between grandmothers, paid caregivers and older children. Mina, 38, originally from Rangpur, has worked in the garment industry for around 20 years and currently works in Savar. Global Voices interviewed her by phone call in July 2026. When her child, now five, was an infant, she received 56 days of maternity leave. “When my child was younger, I brought my mother from the village. She looked after my baby for around four or five months. Later, she went back to the village. Then I kept my child with another person by paying money. When I could no longer manage the cost, I kept my child at the factory daycare. But my child became sick there, and I had to take the baby to the hospital. After that, I stopped keeping my child at the daycare.” With no reliable option left, responsibility eventually passed to her elder son. “I knew it was affecting my elder son’s studies, but I had no other option.” Mina said. Both women described factories where women make up more than half of the workforce but daycare space is limited. At Morsheda’s factory, where around 3,000 people work and nearly 2,000 are women, the daycare accommodates only about 12 or 13 children and has two caregivers. Both women also raised concerns about hygiene and the quality of care. A national industry tied to global fashion Bangladesh’s ready-made garment industry generates more than USD 36 billion in exports and employs approximately 4.5 million workers, more than 57 percent of them women . In 2024, around 40 percent of garment exports went to the European Union and another 18 percent to the United States. Garment employment has expanded women’s access to paid work, but women still shoulder most unpaid care work at home. Bangladeshi women spend more than seven times as much time on unpaid care and domestic work as men, according to a national Time Use Survey cited by the ILO. An ILO-supported study found that 54 percent of working parents viewed inadequate childcare as a major barrier to women entering or remaining in employment, while 18 percent said they had left a job because of childcare responsibilities. Bangladesh’s labour law requires establishments with 40 or more women workers to maintain suitable rooms for their children under six, with trained or experienced female caregivers and access for mothers. But that requirement does not answer the practical questions raised by Morsheda and Mina about capacity, staffing and whether mothers can use the facilities during production hours. Beyond Bangladesh The ILO estimates that the global garment industry employs around 94 million workers, nearly 60 percent of them women. The legal protections differ. Bangladesh now provides 120 days (4 months) of maternity benefits for eligible workers and requires childcare rooms in establishments with 40 or more women. Vietnam provides six months of maternity leave; women nursing a child under 12 months are entitled to 60 minutes of paid breaks each working day, and employers are required to assist with daycare or kindergarten facilities or cover part of childcare costs. Cambodia provides 90 days of maternity leave , with half wages and benefits for workers with at least one year’s seniority. During a child’s first year, mothers are entitled to one hour of paid breastfeeding time each workday, while employers with 100 or more women must operate a nursing room and a daycare centre, or in some circumstances cover childcare costs. Yet legal provision does not remove the problem of access. In Vietnam, ILO research found that women made up 74.8 percent of the textile and garment workforce, while 40 percent of workers in the sector worked more than 49 hours a week in 2023. VnExpress reported that public nurseries around industrial zones were limited, private care could be expensive and many preschools closed before factory overtime ended. In Cambodia, World Bank reporting documented similar dependence on family care. Garment worker Srun Saren left two children with her 75-year-old grandmother and expected to leave her job after a third child because adequate care was unavailable. Another worker, Kang Somaly, left garment work after failing to find care for her four-month-old baby and seven-year-old child. Across Bangladesh, Vietnam and Cambodia, women sustain garment production while families absorb much of the childcare that makes their employment possible. From responsible sourcing to meaningful support The idea that support should extend beyond maternity leave is reflected in existing labour programmes. The ILO and UNICEF’s Mothers@Work initiative for Bangladesh’s garment sector identifies seven minimum standards, including paid maternity leave, breastfeeding and childcare facilities, flexible working arrangements, health protection, medical benefits, employment protection and non-discrimination. A 2022 ILO assessment found improvements in factory maternity and breastfeeding policies, while also highlighting women leaving and re-entering employment because of childcare responsibilities. The findings shift attention from the existence of childcare facilities to how they function in practice, including whether workers can use them during long shifts and while meeting production targets. Neither Morsheda nor Mina identified the international brands sourcing from their factories, and their experiences cannot be attributed to any particular company. Their accounts illustrate how childcare responsibilities may remain outside formal factory systems, relying instead on grandmothers, paid caregivers and, in some cases, older children. Bangladesh’s extension of maternity benefits to 120 days has expanded formal maternity protection for eligible workers. However, the experiences of Morsheda and Mina, together with findings from the ILO’s Mothers@Work qualitative assessment , point to continuing childcare challenges after workers return from maternity leave. Written by Maksuda Akter