Every monsoon, life across the Mechi river on Nepal’s eastern border with India comes to a standstill. For the 35 families living in three settlements—Gwalabasti, Sisaudangi and Jhadubasti—in ward 15 of Mechinagar Municipality in Jhapa district, the floods not only wash away crops and utility poles, but also close the only school for months.

The Mechi Primary School, set up in 2000 to extend education to this isolated area known as “Nepal across the Mechi,” runs classes up to grade two. But without a bridge over the river, the school closes as soon as the monsoon swells the current. This year, though schools across the district reopened after the summer vacation on August 10, Mechi Primary has yet to resume classes.

“Teachers and staff live on the other side of the river. When the Mechi is in full swing in the rainy season, it is impossible to cross,” said Lokendra Thapaliya, principal of the school. “Other schools are in session, but we cannot reopen until the water level recedes.”

Two teachers and an office assistant are posted to the school, but all of them stay on the other side of the river. Even in dry months, the river is difficult enough to wade across. During the rains, it turns into a furious torrent. Without a bridge, the teachers can only reach the school by taking a detour through Indian territory, either via Kakadbhitta in the north or Bhadrapur in the south, both of which involve hours-long journeys. “I managed to go to the school three times using Indian routes, just to complete administrative work. But it is not a daily solution,” Thapaliya said.

For over two decades, the story has been the same: every year, from mid-June until late September, the primary school across the river remains closed. Its eleven students, all from the local indigenous communities such as Satar, Rajbanshi, Yadav, Munda and Gwal, lose three to four months of lessons annually.

The problem doesn’t end at grade two. Children who wish to study beyond that must either cross the Mechi to reach a school on the western side or enroll in Indian schools. But the river cuts them off in the monsoon. “Two children from here ford the river in the dry months to continue their studies, but they too cannot go during the rains,” said Thapaliya.

The settlements across the river appear cut off not just from education but from development itself. Most families survive on farming and livestock. Few are literate. The communities still prefer to speak in their own indigenous tongues. Power supply is unreliable because the electricity poles are often damaged or swept away by flooding. “The poles don’t last long. We may get light for a few days, then the river carries it all away,” said local resident Amal Yadav. Drinking water facilities are also scarce.

Yadav said residents have repeatedly demanded a bridge over the Mechi river in the area. “Every election, candidates come asking for votes. Everyone promises a bridge, but once elected, no one returns. We feel abandoned,” he said. “Even a suspension bridge would change our lives, but the government’s assurances have never materialised.”

The plight of “Nepal across the Mechi,” as locals call the place, underscores how geography and state neglect trap entire communities in isolation. Despite multiple government plans and announcements for a suspension bridge, nothing has been built.

Each year, the same cycle repeats. As the river swells, classrooms remain closed. Teachers wait on the western bank, while children stay home, losing months of education. “We have been neglected by the state. The government is indifferent to our hardships and sufferings,” lamented Yadav.