At Tribhuvan University (TU), where the ethos of academia is meant to shape the nation’s conscience, a quiet administrative anomaly has grown into a systemic financial strain. Professors and senior officials—some celebrated names in Nepal’s academic sphere—have turned unpaid leave into years of pensionable service, setting a precedent that now risks sinking the country’s oldest university deeper into fiscal burden.
It began with a section officer.
When Bimal Rimal walked into TU’s Employee Administration Division in early 2018 to process his retirement benefits, he didn’t expect a dispute. He had been in service since 1977, confirmed permanent in 1978, and believed his 40 years of employment would guarantee a full pension. But the administration deducted three years—unpaid leave he had taken during his tenure.
According to a 2011 amendment to TU’s rules, unpaid leave cannot be counted towards pension eligibility. That rule, like most institutional statutes, was clear on paper. Rimal challenged it anyway.
In a twist befitting a Kafkaesque drama, Rimal appealed to the very commission where he had served as a section officer. And the TU Appeals Commission—then led by Bishwanath Joshi—ruled in his favor. His three years of unpaid leave were counted, and his pension recalculated. A new precedent was born, and the doors flung open for many more to follow.
A precedent that paved the way
Among those closely watching was Professor Shankar Prasad Bhandari of Patan Multiple Campus. After retiring in 2019, he too sought to count over two years of unpaid leave in his pension computation. At first, the administration refused. But buoyed by legal advice and Rimal’s precedent, Bhandari applied to TU’s Executive Council.
On January 25, 2020, the Council approved it—adding unpaid leave to Bhandari’s pensionable service. The decision came under the leadership of then Vice-Chancellor Prof Dr Dharmakanta Baskota, who, ironically, would later do the same for himself.
“I don’t recall approving such a decision,” Baskota said when asked. Yet his own pension reflects an additional 2 years, 11 months, and 14 days—unpaid leave added to extend his service to over 40 years.
That oversight has now become an administrative norm.
Unwritten rules, unquestioned practices
Following Bhandari’s case, Tribhuvan University quietly began adding unpaid leave taken before April 21, 2011, to pension calculations. A circular from the Executive Council instructed the administration to include the leave without requiring individual petitions. Some professors weren’t even aware it was happening.
Registrar Prof Dr Kedar Prasad Rijal received credit for one year of unpaid leave in his pension processing—despite not requesting it. Vice-Chancellor Keshar Jung Baral had two separate leaves counted as service. Even Associate Professor Krishnamohan Shrestha of Pokhara, who didn’t meet the 20-year requirement for pension, crossed the threshold by adding 2 years of unpaid leave.
Across TU, the interpretation of rules became fluid—governed more by precedent than by policy.
“This is policy-level corruption,” said Basanta Dhakal, President of the TU Professors’ Association. “Professors are exploiting loopholes in the system they were supposed to uphold.”
The cost of compromise
What began as a favor for one employee has morphed into a financial strain of staggering proportions. In just 126 verified cases, TU is spending more than Rs 67.3 million annually in pensions, including years of service that were officially unpaid.
But TU has neither reversed the policy nor challenged it legally.
“It would have cost more to fight the decision,” said an official at the Vice-Chancellor’s Office. “So we implemented it—despite knowing it was unjust and financially harmful.”
The consequences may be long-term. Pensions in Nepal are lifelong, and half the amount is passed on to nominees after the pensioner’s death. TU now faces ballooning pension liabilities—money that could have been spent on infrastructure, scholarships, or research.
Professors who retired without exploiting the loophole feel betrayed.
“Extraordinary leave was never part of service calculation when I left,” said Professor Krishna Khanal. “How can it be now?”
A crisis of integrity
What makes this saga more troubling is the lack of accountability. TU’s rules—specifically Rule 32—clearly prohibit unpaid leave from being counted as service. Yet, the Appeals Commission’s interpretation has outstripped the rule itself, giving rise to a practice no law explicitly permits.
Rule 17 of the TU Staff Rules bars retroactive changes that affect an employee’s salary, benefits, or retirement. But Rimal’s case flipped that argument: since the unpaid leave predated the amendment, it must be counted.
That interpretation now acts as the cornerstone of a growing legal fiction—unpaid service, paid for life.
“What is the role of TU’s leadership in all of this?” asked Prof Dr Kusum Shakya, former Dean of Humanities and Social Sciences. “How were these decisions made? Who will take responsibility?”
There are no clear answers, only compounding consequences. As professors continue to benefit from a rule once dismissed as inapplicable, Tribhuvan University stands at the edge of a silent financial crisis—one enabled by its own intellectual elite.
Until the rules are rewritten, the precedent reversed, or the leadership held accountable, TU will continue to pay—not just in millions, but in institutional credibility.
