'We want to tell people what's happening in mainstream society in Hong Kong, as well as inform them of any changes in immigration and government policies that might affect them,' he says.

The attack on his office came from Nepalis who objected to his coverage of a beauty contest. Rai says everyone knew who the culprits were, and the paper no longer has anything to fear.

The Everest Weekly began as a business venture. Spurred by complaints about the lack of a local newspaper in Nepali, Rai and six friends decided they could make money by launching a daily. The men were all in construction jobs on the KCR West Rail line, and each invested $70,000 to buy a printing press, office equipment, and license their new business. None had journalism experience.

Two months after it launched, the newspaper was already heavily in debt. Two of the founders bailed. Six months later, the other four left. 'It became a one-man newspaper,' Rai says. 'I had to do it all myself.' For another 18 months, Rai struggled to put out a daily edition. When profits failed to rise, he turned it into a weekly.

Everest Weekly is still essentially a one-person show. Rai writes, does layout, translates articles from English to Nepali, solicits freelance pieces, edits, and handles the accounts, advertising and distribution. He has two volunteer writers in Hong Kong and two freelancers based in Nepal. To supplement the paper's income, he takes on small printing jobs such as business cards and pamphlets.

In an average week, Rai prints about 2,500 copies of the Everest Weekly on the old Heidelberg printing press at the back of his small office. Between subscribers and newsstands, he sells about 1,500 to 2,000 copies of the $3 paper. During periods of breaking news - such as in 2001, when Nepal's Crown Prince Dipendra gunned down his parents - the print run can reach 7,000 copies.

Laxmi Thapa, a 34-year-old event co-ordinator, is one of the volunteers who helps Rai. While her fellow volunteer Suresh Subba reports mainly on activities within the community, she writes a column on issues ranging from local events to the community's social concerns. It has received positive feedback from readers as well as Rai. 'He's like my brother,' Thapa says. 'We're from the same city in Nepal, and we're in the same city now. I enjoy writing for him.'

Pandey, whose organisation links expatriate Nepalis with their home country, reads the newspaper to keep up with local events. Many Nepalis in Hong Kong struggle to succeed because of the language barrier, he says, so the newspaper is a resource that makes them feel at home.

'They call this Asia's world city, but the minority groups aren't respected,' Rai says. 'The government encourages integration, but integration shouldn't mean losing your own values and culture. For integration to work, societies must respect minorities.'

According to the latest government statistics, there are 17,960 Nepalis living in Hong Kong. Rai puts the number at 25,000. Many are related to or descendants of Gurkha troops based in the city during British rule. A large number live in Yuen Long, where Rai has his office, and Kam Tin - areas close to the former British military base in Sek Kong.

The government has initiated a $500,000 pilot project, starting next month, that will include tutorials for ethnic minority children as well as family assistance and language training for the community.

Nonetheless, Nepalis in Hong Kong face a number of challenges, such as getting their children into good schools, finding adequate housing, and negotiating visa restrictions. Last May, the Hong Kong government imposed a blanket ban on visas for students and workers from Nepal, coinciding with an exodus of refugees after escalating Maoist rebel violence.

For all his gripes about neglect of minorities, Rai is thankful to be living in a city that's politically stable. He grew up in the eastern Nepali town of Dharan. After graduating from university, he became a social studies teacher and maintained his interest in current affairs. But he got a job in construction after moving here with his Hong Kong-born wife, with whom he has two young children.

He made good money as a foreman, but the work didn't satisfy him intellectually. 'Construction is physically hard,' he says. 'Putting out the paper is both physically and mentally challenging.'

Rai says the civil war in Nepal is disheartening, but not insurmountable. 'King Gyanendra has to give power to the people,' Rai says. 'I'm not saying the Maoists are ready to rule, but the people know what democracy is and they should decide who rules.'

Flipping through back issues of Everest Weekly, Rai is modest about his publication. There's room for improvement, he says. If there were more investors and advertisers, he could put out a better newspaper.

Despite the hurdles, he's not quitting. 'I'm still here,' he says, waving an arm at his paper-strewn desk. 'And I'm not leaving.'