Wise and wrinkled grandmothers dressed in vividly patterned dresses lounge elegantly against Mughal backdrops, and are attended to by young women, lovers, and deities. The paintings depict traditional grandmoms in non-traditional settings, and Muna Bhadel in her ongoing exhibition Silent Whispers at Siddhartha Art Gallery forces us to do a double take.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240822120812_e941c14b423047b56a14cc8e4a20eae1005c99325c5a05532922ca8aa2178877.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240822120812_e941c14b423047b56a14cc8e4a20eae1005c99325c5a05532922ca8aa2178877" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Muna Bhadel NT"> </figure>  Bhadel, a recipient of the 2022 <a href="https://www.australianhimalayanfoundation.org.au/">Australian Himalayan Foundation </a>Art Award, explains: ‘This series is a tapestry woven with threads of emotional bonds, captures the poignant experiences of grandmothers as I have felt them. Their journeys through time are uniquely their own.’ In a painting titled Mute Melodies, an elderly woman reclines on a pillow with her hair down, frowning into the distance while surrounded by three young women. One fans her face, another presents her with a box of jewelry, and the third anoints her feet in a ‘sora singar’ wedding ceremony representing a bride’s transformation from girl to wife.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240822110840_e78e786aca3447be1b6583acc3ef6c26bf55befbacc4abf1b8fca4aa967578d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240822110840_e78e786aca3447be1b6583acc3ef6c26bf55befbacc4abf1b8fca4aa967578d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="2676" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Mute Melodies by Mona Bhadel NT 2"> </figure>  The juxtaposition of the grandmother’s wrinkled face and veined arms with the smooth-skinned attendants painted like a fantastical Mughal mural, is a recurrent motif in Bhadel’s exhibition. The paintings contrast images of youth and age, and explore the longing and unfulfilled dreams and the imagery blends memories with dreams of what look like nautch girls. Bhadel trained at the Lalitkala Academy of Fine Art, then joined the MFA program at Tribhuvan University while doing a residency at Taragaon Museum. Her works were also exhibited at the Himalayan Art Festival in 2022 and the Dalai-La gallery in 2023. The 2023 exhibition titled 'Co-Relation Between Us' featured subjects dressed in vibrant textiles, and she has carried this style to Silent Whispers as well. A painting titled Uncharted Desires features reclining woman clad in a dhaka-patterned cholo, a golden shawl, and a flowery black gunyo, while a turbaned young man combs her hair.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240822110844_fd5e920221af3d2613059a2e673aa1308c0eb78c601ddda661956b24f263ad52.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240822110844_fd5e920221af3d2613059a2e673aa1308c0eb78c601ddda661956b24f263ad52" data-rendition-name="original" width="2676" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="Uncharted Desires by Mona Bhadel NT 3"> </figure>  Many of the women in this series feature elderly women seemingly reminiscing romance, perhaps experiences or fantasies they had when younger. Sometimes, there is a doting man in attendance.&nbsp; Bhadel wants to leave a lot to the viewers’ imagination, and so as not to give it all away, just says, “This is how I imagined they would like to be with their past companions.”&nbsp; Most of the paintings at the exhibition are acrylic on canvas, but some are done in coloured pencils on the walls, perhaps studies or sketches before working on her final pieces. The drawings show two hands, one often visibly aged, and the other smooth and young.&nbsp; “These represent memories of my grandmother and how we are connected despite our difference in age,” says Bhadel. “It reminds me of a time when she pinched the skin on her hand and then the skin on mine.”&nbsp; Perhaps some of Bhadel’s reflections on the passage of time comes from the recent birth of her child, and the passing of her grandmothers who lived simple lives, nurturing their families, yet trapped by duty and society. While the women have aged physically in the paintings, their minds and spirits burn brightly and full of life in Bhadel’s works.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240822110848_a31931b41dbb24cbe9db3da768788613d13d560a855a58a99b5a40f5185e6e17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240822110848_a31931b41dbb24cbe9db3da768788613d13d560a855a58a99b5a40f5185e6e17" data-rendition-name="original" width="2129" height="3576" loading="lazy" alt="Custodian of Fate by Mona Bhadel NT 4"> </figure>  These bittersweet emotions are expressed in colours that are either bright and saturated, or dull and subdued, but both enveloped in warm vermillion. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/artistic-prayer-for-our-common-future">Artistic prayer for our common future</a>, Pinki Sris Rana Explains Sangeeta Thapa of Siddhartha Art Gallery: ‘Muna Bhadel’s paintings are an observation about the cycle of life -- of birth and death, youth with all its beauty and seductions, and about loss, ageing, nostalgia, and isolation.’ Silent Whispers Paintings by MunaBhadel Siddhartha Art Galley Baber Mahal Revisited 18 August – 18 September Kathmandu Triennale 2026 Although it is still almost two years away, the organisers of the Kathmandu Triennale are not waiting till the last moment to start preparations. Siddharth Art Gallery and Nepal Academy of Fine Arts are poised to unfurl a vibrant canvas in February 2026 with the theme ‘Coexistence, Kinship and Care’.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024082212080_376592b1d0ce331e80f65820ea891b99d7e4b2bcdca9c51951f7eee9777965e5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2024082212080_376592b1d0ce331e80f65820ea891b99d7e4b2bcdca9c51951f7eee9777965e5" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="992" loading="lazy" alt="Triennale Siddhartha Art Gallery 2026 NT"> </figure>  Kathmandu will host a kaleidoscope of creativity, with shows at venues like the Siddhartha Art Galley, Patan Museum and Nepal Art Council. The triennale will be curated by Australian artist Natalie King and Sujan Chitrakar of the Kathmandu University School of Art, and will feature at least 40 Nepali and international artists.&nbsp; Outgoing Australian Ambassador Felicity Volk spoke at the event announcing the Triennale, saying: “In a world fragmented by politics, war, and geopolitical tensions, we seek unity—a shared canvas where we weave threads of solidarity and harmony.”&nbsp;

Vishad Raj Onta

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The unbearable lightness of being old

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f569c7e80680e0af45djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2046" height="1377"/><figcaption>Lambe. All photos: BHARAT RAI.</figcaption></figure>Bharat Rai's ongoing exhibition ‘Whistle Blower’ at Ekantakuna's <a href="https://windhorseartgallery.com">Wind Horse Gallery</a> is a quasi-surreal take on the world of tourism and mountaineering. His first solo show of 35 paintings do not show Himalayan peaks but the often-overlooked state of tourism, modernism and consumerism.You will find few mountains here. The white background in the canvases is the closest thing to snow and clouds. The real protagonists are the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Equus-in-brick-kilns-kathmandu,4085">mules, donkeys and the burden on their backs</a>. We can almost hear their rusty bells punctuating the silence of their unsung endurance.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f599c7e80680e0af45ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1420" height="1437"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One of the first paintings that comes into view as visitors climb the staircase to the vast gallery is called Lale: a brown mule leaping with its tail up in the air. Its dark, melancholic eyes gaze ahead as the blue sacks on its back weigh it down. A long rope attaches the mule to a sealed Coca Cola bottle with crystallised rocks inside.The artwork is striking, and whimsical — a leaping animal tied to the ground by an empty bottle of soda. The bells around the neck and shoulders in the colourful harness look harmless at first, and we instantly recognise that these are the beasts of burden that make trekking and mountaineering possible, allowing those selfies on Kala Patar and summit certificates.But what of Lale, frozen as it tries to jump and break free, despite being held fast to the ground? Another mule, Dhurbe, is leaping off the back of a blue pick-up truck. Yet another looks dolefully at a miniature version of itself lying on its back with legs flailing upwards.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f5d9c7e80680e0af45fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1786" height="1482"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It may not be immediately noticeable, but the atmosphere of the paintings is indeed that of a false levity, draped in a foreboding silence of suffering.Silence pervades Rai's art: silence not volunteered but forced, and silence caught in motion. Rai's muses are mules and donkeys — always in the act of moving, whether away, towards, or in circles. They are flying, rolling and dancing even. Their desired destination is up the trail, but they appear to be protesting through their contortions — and their silence.Rai grew up around these equine heroes, spending over a decade in their company. His family profession was moving cargo on mule trains up and down the Solu Khumbu trail before motor cars and jeeps took over. He has shared his feelings and worries more with mules than humans, and this very empathy influences his art.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f609c7e80680e0af460jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1863" height="1536"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>'Most visitors and strangers would tell me about the creatures', writes Rai in his statement, 'saying that they would cry if they did not get heavy loads!' But, as evidenced by his paintings, the mules do not look happy to be carrying all those sacks and cylinders.On the contrary, they are tired, beaten and eager to break free of their tethers. The animals have names, distinct characters and personalities. In a way these downtrodden animals are symbolic of the silent disenfranchised citizens of our country. Abused, exploited, excluded, collectively derided.The effect is twofold. While the animals are taken as symbols of simplicity and foolishness (and thus abused), by using them as metaphors Rai draws our attention also to the cruelty and micro-aggression directed towards the people living on the margins.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f649c7e80680e0af461jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1484" height="2048"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f689c7e80680e0af462jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1484" height="2048">Melody of Shovel (left) and Hero (right)Some paintings depict items scattered around mountaineering camps: steel plates, cylinders, rusty wheelbarrows, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-building-a-highway-to-everest/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a yellow excavator</a> and a sewing machine practically falling apart. One canvas has a rolled-up roti held together by a safety pin. There is a larger statement here against the recklessness, entitlement and egotism of mountain visitors.Despite these undercurrents, ‘Whistle Blowers’ is not a pessimistic show. It is more a call to action to be more mindful, more conscious. Our four-legged mountain friends are not indentured servants, but beings with dreams and hopes of their own.We are conditioned to imagine nobility in horses and ridicule donkeys. Rai subverts these notions by inviting us to look into the eyes of mules as muses.‘Whistle Blowers’ by Bharat RaiWind Horse Gallery, Bhanimandal-Ekantakuna Road, Lalitpur10am-6pm (closed on Mondays)Limited visitors in the hall. Masks mandatory.Till 17 January 2022.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/on-screen-mountains/">On-screen mountains</a>, Sahina Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-next-for-reinhold-messner/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">What next for Reinhald Messner?</a>, Kunda Dixit

Ashish Dhakal

Muses of the mountains

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368efcc9c7e80680e03599bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="850"/>Ask any Nepali about Ireland, and most have no idea where it is and some may mention the Irish pubs in Lukla, Thamel or Pokhara. Ask a person on the street what a ‘Guinness’ is and the answers will pertain more to a certain book of world records rather than the dark beer.Which is why the first-ever exhibition of Irish art in Nepal is such a landmark in Kathmandu’s cultural firmament. It is a small brief window that gives people here in Kathmandu a glimpse of the sensibilities of this gentle land on the edge of the north Atlantic.The artists, affiliated with Wexford Arts Center in Ireland, have brought to the Siddhartha Art Gallery an eclectic collection that includes landscapes, portraits, mixed media and photographs.Viewers are exposed not just to contemporary art themes but also techniques: some exhibits hang by clothes pegs on washing lines, tiny installations are framed in the style of miniatures, and there are renderings of the Irish landscape.Because the artists came from so far away and on such short notice, they mostly brought smaller pieces. The collection has landscapes which artists say is representative of contemporary Irish art trends.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368efcf9c7e80680e03599cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="888">“I do not paint exact representations of the landscape, what you see, are my emotional response to it,” explains Olivia O’Dywer (below, right) whose dreamy, almost pointillist series is called 'Between the Sky and the Sea'.Declan Cody looks for themes in the abstract, and ventures beyond landscapes to visuals like cow skin, groups of birds, or a close up of a patch of sand. He says: “I prefer to call my art abstracted rather than abstract, to differentiate it from traditional abstract art.”Oil and acrylic mediums and techniques of layering are popular among Irish artists, and they hope to foster a cultural exchange between Nepal and Ireland, learning from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/old-art-meets-new/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">each other’s art forms</a> through this exhibition. The Irish visitors are attending an art camp for Nepali artists in Kathmandu on Sunday.Also read: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/artivists-at-the-bank/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Artivists at the bank</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/under-kathmandus-spell-2/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Under Kathmandu's Spell</a>, Duksangh SherpaThe use of pastels, blue, white, gray, soft pink dominate the paintings. Bernadette Doolan’s impressionist portraits stand slightly apart from the trend of landscapes, capturing “emotions rather than persons”. Her titles like Determined, In Quiet Agreement, It’s My Party, I wish, are intense with emotional expression.“As adults we pretend to be strong, but in reality we all have a child in us,” explains Doolan (below, left). “And children are strong, but also vulnerable. My portraits remind us all to let the child out sometimes.”At the other end of the spectrum lie inert machines, which photographer Michael Duggan (top) foregrounds in his skillful compositions. Tools like a plough and a forge, which have now fallen into disuse, give us a glimpse of the transition in Ireland’s traditionally agrarian society.“I capture machines that were once beautiful in their efficiency, but today are just ornamental, and so, beautiful in another way,” says Duggan.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107121144/6368efd39c7e80680e03599djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="953">“Documentary photographers everywhere try to capture things used today that will disappear ten years later. Our work might not make sense at the moment, but it will be valued more as time passes.”The artists all agree that the scope of art as a career is limited and full of struggles in Ireland, just like everywhere else in the world.The exhibition hosts works by two other artists who could not make it to Nepal: Kate Murphy whose titles seem larger than her miniature mixed media frames, and Paddy Lennon’s elegantly inked Water Series.“Nepal and Ireland have completely different landscapes, one has mountains and the other has oceans and islands,” said Veronica Cody, European Union’s Ambassador to Nepal, who is herself Irish.Our landscapes affect how we see the world, and exchange of art is an opportunity to transcend that worldview and get a glimpse of another.”Cody hoped the exhibition could be an inspiration for Nepali artists, and that Ireland would be inspired to host them in future.Irish Artists in NepalAn Exhibition of Mixed Media Works (till July 20)Bernadette Doolan, Declan Cody, Kate Murphy, Michael Duggan, Olivia O’Dwyer, Paddy LennonSiddhartha Art Gallery, Baber Mahal RevisitedSunday to Friday 11 am – 5 pmSaturday 12 noon - 5 pmAlso read: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/planet-nepal-art-environment-festival,1738" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Art in the Planet</a>, Stéphane Huët<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/years-of-botanical-art,3222" target="_blank" rel="noopener">200 years of botanical art</a>

Ocean to mountains

In 2003, the death by police firing of a student protesting a rise in fuel prices pushed Nepal’s student activists to join the प्रतिगमन विरोधी आन्दोलन (Movement Against Regression), which political parties had begun after king Gyanendra’s sacking an elected government a year before. The students’ participation elevated the movement and prompted more Nepalis to join in, leading to the People’s Movement that first sidelined the monarchy and then abolished it in 2008.&nbsp; That took five years to happen. But 12 years later, this month, a youth-led protest forced the prime minister to resign within 30 hours.&nbsp; Police massacred GenZ activists, many of them students, outside Parliament on 8 September. This intensified public anger, leading to targeted attacks, looting, and burning of the homes of political leaders, private businesses, and public buildings.&nbsp; Amid the smouldering ruins of state institutions, young Nepalis chose a new prime minister to lead an interim government and deliver a fresh mandate. All of this happened in five days.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250910140912_019d62de4b62a366299a27d1276e931a7dadefcc674441e7fb3acd503970efaf" data-rendition-name="original" width="8000" height="5760" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Parliament building up in flames during the GenZ protest on 9 September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  Students have been central to Nepal’s democratic and political process since the mid 20th century. In her 2018 book Making New Nepal, researcher Amanda Thérèse Snellinger traces the history of student activism and politics against a background of &nbsp;Nepal’s socio-political history and party politics.&nbsp; Snellinger examines the interplay of ideology and identity, explores how student activists fit into a political landscape continually occupied by the traditional elite, and details how student leaders have established themselves through relationships with influential actors on local, national, regional, and transnational levels. The Rana regime’s repression caused students to be politically aware. In 1947, students held the first organised protest against the Rana autocracy demanding educational reforms. The breadth of student activism expanded during the Panchayat era after king Mahendra banned political parties, which drove mainstream politicians and parties underground. &nbsp;Student activists then became proxies for multiparty democracy because they were still able to organise.&nbsp; Student politics was institutionalised, and unions emerged as vanguard sister organisations of political parties. Student activism, more so than mainstream political parties, played key roles during &nbsp;both major movements in 1990 and the 2000s, as they mobilised the citizenry to join the democratic process.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924130940_f94cf97fb7ed98b90b48736e1aa8a76466f50337dffc36ec78e9cd5e6927deea" data-rendition-name="original" width="1952" height="2928" loading="lazy" alt="1990 people's movement Nepal"> <figcaption>The iconic image of the 1990 People's Movement agaist the autocratic Panchyat regime of the king. Photo: MIN RATNA BAJRACHARYA</figcaption> </figure>  Through extensive ethnographic research between 2003 and 2015, Snellinger investigates the political coming of age of student activists during the final years of the armed insurgency and their role in and beyond the movement that ultimately abolished the monarchy. Her research revolves around the political journeys of five student activists: Akash and Rishi from the Nepali Congress (NC) student wing Nepal Student Union (NSU), Salini from the UML’s All Nepal National Free Students’ Union (ANNFSU-Akhil), Gyanu from ANNISU-Revolutionary of the Maoists, and Lagan, who began his political journey from Nepal Majdoor Kisan Party’s student wing Nepal Krantikari Bidyarthi Sangathan. The ‘movement against regression’ in 2003 served as the entry point &nbsp;for activists into national party politics. Indeed, it was their &nbsp;participation in the movement that elevated the profile of the main subjects of Snellinger’s research. In the years that followed, the paths of the five activists diverged. Some made it into mainstream politics, even becoming lawmakers. In doing so, they have had to trade idealism for pragmatism, and their attempts realise their previous vision for Nepal’s democracy have been overshadowed by their political opportunism and position. And even decades after they began their journey as student activists, the generation that the book focuses on are still considered &nbsp;‘youth’ leaders. Snellinger quotes a former student leader who joined mainstream politics as saying: “I am still a youth because &nbsp;my aspirations remain unfulfilled.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250924130944_7cca095d79fb5ce45cf92c61b77d72c31c5e0931aa744c73e264b6f91efdd29b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="2006 People's Movement of Nepal"> <figcaption>A student protester wearing a paper crown and ridiculing Gyanendra with an impersonation, a day after king stepped down and left his palace. Photo: AJAY JOSHI / A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption> </figure>  Meanwhile, the refusal of Nepal’s octogenarian leaders to retire (even after The upheaval this month) has created a surplus of younger adults waiting in the wings, making the word ‘youth’ relative in Nepal’s political trajectory. Other subjects of Snellinger's research have retreated from student and mainstream activism, either in disappointment over their mother party’s retreat from some of their more radical positions, or to &nbsp;continue their work at the community level through education and journalism. One of them has leveraged her political connections to further women-led initiatives after unsuccessful election bids. Nearing the end of her research in 2015, Snellinger observes the disappointment of Madhesi communities whose movement to demand more inclusive provisions of the draft Constitution had gone in vain, even after 45 lives were lost.&nbsp; As the Constitution was promulgated in 2015, TVs were switched off in the Tarai, and there were sighs of resignation. In Kathmandu, Snelllinger noted that the student leaders that entered mainstream politics protesting for inclusive democracy had little empathy for the struggles and similar demands of groups in the Madhes. Despite the students’ role in ending the monarchy, Nepal’s political status quo has remained. The institutions and people that replaced the &nbsp;monarchy have allowed one set of Kathmandu elites to be replaced with another.&nbsp; The socio-political benefits promised during the movement two &nbsp;decades ago have remained tightly controlled by leaders who refuse to give up their hold on power. The political system was overhauled, but without concrete reform. It was only a matter of time before public frustration would boil over. Indeed, Snellinger concludes her book by predicting the inevitability of future movements in Nepal.&nbsp; She writes: ‘Leaders emerge through the andolan … a new generation will emerge shaped by Nepal’s accumulated socio-political heritage, which they will mediate to shape a liveable present and future for themselves in their country, perhaps by continuing the movement.’&nbsp; And that is exactly what happened on 8-9 September. Students marched in the streets demanding an end to corruption and impunity, but this time not as proxies of political parties.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250908120948_8a9acceede487651487c2f15b65e40f900ee6cd390bbf98394eade6b95d05b28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Gen Z protest"> <figcaption>A student during the GenZ protest against acorruption on 8 September. Photo: SUDIKSHA TULADHAR</figcaption> </figure>  Their desire for socio-political reform was apolitical at a time in Nepal’s history when the nation’s student organisations have weakened and lost credibility, mirroring the erosion of trust in their parent parties. Along with party-based student unions, the Free Student Union (FSU)— the umbrella body all student unions—has lost its reputation due to corruption and embezzlement. That is not to say there are no similarities in movements past and present. Whether political or apolitical, protests have been overshadowed by a lack of unity within the groups that spearhead movements. They have led to destruction of public and private institutions.&nbsp; Leaders of youth and student movements have also had to bear the brunt of the frustration of the people they represent when there is no delivery on their demands. The academics of students have suffered because of frequent lockouts of university and college administration. Youth andolan, whether political or apolitical, has been a rite of passage into Nepali democratic politics — dissensus is an integral part of political regeneration. It remains to be see how the fall &nbsp;from grace of political parties after the GenZ movement will affect their affiliated student unions. As elections approach, student unions and youth collectives will find their own footing in Nepal’s &nbsp;newly emerging socio-political landscape. The youth who took to the streets are asking for a complete overhaul for political parties. Establishmentarian leaders still have not seen the writing on the wall.&nbsp; NextGen leaders in their parties have been waiting for years for their turn &nbsp;to break through the glass ceiling. These established political actors will not go down without a fight in the run-up to March elections.&nbsp; Amanda Thérèse Snellinger perhaps needs a post-script or even a sequel to her book to see how a new generation of leaders, forged by their student activism, will compete in Nepal's new political arena.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250923190928_98d53dd49d56c92950bc34642eaee51dea458fd64312d945a358ad70e5e994bb" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Making new Nepal book details NT"> </figure>

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

What does a journalist do when young protesters are shot in front of her? Does she do her job and stay neutral? Can you stay neutral?&nbsp; As protests engulfed Kathmandu, Nepal's journalists found themselves reporting a story that was personal. While doing their job, some of them were even targeted by mobs.&nbsp; Dart Asia Pacific Fellow <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/arunkarki/" target="_blank">Arun Karki</a> visited their newsrooms and spoke with his colleagues on their experience of reporting the GenZ protests that erupted on 8 September. These are the first-hand accounts of journalists who witnessed the turmoil in the city they call home. Sunita Karki was at a workshop in a hotel on 8 September. She saw the first waves of protests through hotel windows. Curfew alerts flooded her phone, a vehicle belonging to a human rights group sat burning across the road, young boys were taking their wounded friends on motorbikes to the Everest Hospital, and police were beating a teenager with hands raised up.&nbsp; “I cried a lot,” she said, but the tears were not out of fear -- they were because she felt guilt. “I couldn’t write the news. We were witnessing these scenes from a five-star hotel.” By evening, the death toll had reached 19. On 9 September at about 3:35 p.m. &nbsp;her outlet, the Annapurna Post's office in Tinkune, Kathmandu, was set on fire. Staff had to leave the building as parts of the newsroom burnt down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250924040948_e1cc49c9e4fcc4bd4cd3c0163c782fc4e9956bf633cff7b53a63cf8e2dd74cff" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dart Centre Asia Pacific"> </figure>  When she knew her office was burning, she anxiously told her husband that she would resign from the job: "If we have to hide our identification cards in every protest, what kind of journalist am I?" she asked herself. She filed a story the next day, but her emotions kept bouncing between that of a journalist’s duty and shock. She said that in moments like this, it’s hard to feel truly neutral. After watching the police beat people, she felt a strong urge to step in, not just stand back and report. The first real calm came later, when people came to the street and lit small candles together. “This was a sort of victory procession. I felt some relief after brutal days,” she said. <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/angaddhakal/" target="_blank">Angad Dhakal</a> a photojournalist who works at Kantipur National Daily, was standing outside his office building when protesters stormed in and set parts of it on fire. He had already been informed that protesters were planning to torch his office building and &nbsp;rushed to his office hoping to save his hard drives containing ten years of photography work. He failed. He raised his camera and "forcefully" pressed the shutter - more to document the scene than out of "professional enthusiasm or duty".&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250924040948_ebafaacb85c4ea045c41f2c63f1eff06fee9a4ddb5fbf419724e1a5d533781fa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  “My office was burning. What should I photograph?” he recalled. A few moments later, a protester noticed the “PHOTO” label on his yellow Press jacket. Dhakal deflected it by saying he was an early career freelancer and YouTuber. So that protesters wouldn't find out, he went to one corner and took his jacket off. When it comes to covering street protests, &nbsp;Angad usually stands near the police because it feels safer. But on 8 September, fire and gunshots made even that area unsafe. A rubber bullet hit his friend Dipendra Dhungana that badly injured him.&nbsp; He thought, “Where do we go now? If we stay here, we’ll be hit.” After witnessing two days of protests, violence, and killings, and seeing his own office burning, he couldn't sleep for days. The same afternoon that government buildings burned and Kantipur was attacked, a message in a protest Discord forum talked openly of 'attacking Kantipur'.&nbsp; Rumours spread to other outlets. Outside OnlineKhabar's office, where <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/article/edit/7376157229248528384/?author=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_company%3A79132377#" target="_blank">Gaurav Pokharel</a> works, the newsroom manager saw “very suspicious people were walking around”. They lowered blinds, avoided windows, locked the front gate and dispersed staff to other places across the city. The outlet was threatened and effectively locked down, but not torched. Pokharel hid his press ID. “ I never showed the ID card. Sometimes I had to enter the crowd shouting slogans, just to blend in among the protesters,” he said. He watched people fall under gunfire, he helped pull one surrounded journalist out of a hostile crowd.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250924040948_3b335eee57280373cb51f460534ca4476df23f89c787ba9e4a66d116a537b1a3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="It is hard to feel neutral NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GAURAV POKHAREL</figcaption> </figure>  As a freelancer, Gaurav also contributed articles for international outlets. Later, while transcribing an interview of a young protest organiser, he wrote to his editor at an international outlet : “This was very hard to write. I cried many times while doing it.” He had been working at a stretch for days battling bouts of exhaustion and low blood pressure.&nbsp; Protesters vandalised and set fire within the Singha Darbar complex housing Nepal Television and Radio Nepal. They tried to disrupt public broadcasting.&nbsp; Surendra Paudyal began the day with his press ID hanging on his neck, thinking it would let him move freely. But when he reached Singha Darbar around 3:30PM, the situation felt dangerous.&nbsp; He put the ID in his pocket. When asked what mattered most, he answered without pause: life comes first. In that moment, he felt real fear and a strong duty to protect his team.&nbsp; His focus narrowed to basic things: stay calm, find exits, get everyone out safely. Later, they were able to keep the 8 pm news on air through a regional link. He felt mixed emotions and a sense of relief that the broadcast continued, but also sadness and anger that their own studio had come under attack. Reprinted with permission from the Dart Centre Asia Pacific, a regional hub that provides trauma-informed support and advice to journalists.

"It is hard to feel neutral"

Harry Jackson was on an epic adventure ‘from Thailand to the UK on 2 wheels’ when he ran into the ultimate sidequest. Having just visited Zangla in Ladakh, Jackson had only landed in Kathmandu when he found himself in the middle of GenZ protests earlier this month. ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w">Arriving in Nepal - Chaos, Protest &amp; Curfews</a>’ is the title of his first video (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@wehatethecold/videos">wehatethecold on YouTube</a>) about the protest. He shoots police as they shoot at protesters outside Parliament. Jackson is riding a Honda CT125, a retro lightweight motorbike with off-road capabilities. Strapped to the bike is his sparse luggage, flute, and a faded Union Jack. People are rioting on the streets and there is a heavy armed police presence as he makes his way to his hostel in Thamel. His vlog the day after on 9 September has 29 million views. In ‘<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyxSqeFrlp0">The side of Nepal the media won’t show you</a>’, Jackson rides his bike straight at the crowd just past the Parliament building into Old Baneswar.&nbsp; He parks it and walks among the protestors, documenting it all: from the police firing capsules of tear gas into the crowd to the burning Parliament building as well as the jubilant, victorious crowd in the premises as they destroy police vehicles and dance. “I’m shocked at the scenes I’ve witnessed here today. I have truly witnessed history on a stupid trip from Thailand to England on a f***ing moped!” exclaims Jackson as he leaves the scene for the day, heading back to his hostel to edit the footage. The hostel is in direct contrast to the raucous scenes of the protest, as tourists and Nepalis sit and lounge at tables. ‘KUIRE VLOGGER’ Nepalis quickly called him the ‘kuire vlogger’, and attribute his skin colour to his popularity. Objectively, the videos are well made. Jackson goes full gonzo journalist, putting himself right in the heart of the action, talking directly to the people, all while narrating the events as they unfold. Despite being cut together in an entertaining way, the footage retains a raw, unpolished quality that outdoes what most professional journalists with a heavy duty camera crew could do. At a time when legacy media has been seen to be pushing biased narratives, Jackson wants to see for himself what happened, and make up his own mind.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250925120956_f7141e06c72655502fc4b2e56120d084b0f5ae111078d66df4fd0415adf8d376" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1604" loading="lazy" alt="WehateTheCold"> </figure>  This kind of video journalism takes a lot of skill and a certain personality. Many people, almost everybody, had their phones out at the protests, but only a handful were like Jackson. He interviewed people firsthand, edited the clips and uploaded them the same day. Jackson continued his vlogging over the next few days as the curfew was first put in place and then lifted. He explores the city as the Valley rebounds. By this time, Nepalis recognise him everywhere he goes. Jackson had achieved moderate fame as a 23-year old DJ in Birmingham, but what he has done in Nepal is something else. Almost everyone he talks to has already seen his vlog, and they are all eager to interact. He has been on multiple podcasts in Nepal too, and most videos online on the protests reference his vlogs. Before his Nepal blogs, Jackson had a modest 16k subcribers on YouTube, but after Nepal figure is now almost 700k, gaining over 100k each through 11-13 September. Most of them are Nepali viewers. “I’m just a regular dude who just did what he wanted to do,” says Jackson on a podcast. “I wanted to go on an adventure, learn about history, and learn languages. And I wanted to film it, document it, and have a wicked film for my life to show future generations.” &nbsp;

The accidental journalist

Nepal is still reeling from the short but violent GenZ moment, and the reverberations are being felt around the world.&nbsp;
As news from the killings and rampage from Nepal on 8-9 September spread through the wire services and social media, in the Philippines, East Timor and even faraway Peru, banners on the streets last week referred to ‘learning lessons from Nepal’. In Ladakh last week, <a href="https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/9/25/bloodiest-day-how-gen-z-protest-wave-hit-indias-ladakh-killing-four">protesters set fire to the ruling BJP party office</a> and four people were killed in police firing.&nbsp;
Nepal’s GenZ was praised by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/19/opinion/asia-protest-youth-nepal-bangladesh.html">international commentators</a> for rising up against chronic corruption and impunity, and for achieving the fastest regime change in history. But the youth were also blamed for the arson and vandalism even though the groups said they had no part in it — most &nbsp;foreign media also did not highlight enough the infiltration by radical groups.
“We were not expecting the protests to turn so violent and deadly. On the second day, things escalated so quickly it became difficult to keep track. We were rushing on the groud and making calls to confirm what was happening,” recalls Paavan Mathema of Agence France-Presse (AFP) in Nepal.
The GenZ protest this month was a lesson on the mechanics of social media. Hashtags like #youthagainstcorruption and #nepobaby from Indonesia inspired Nepal’s youth to take to the streets, but events here in turn triggered protests elsewhere. The international news agencies and mainstream global tv channels were not as important in this information cross-pollination.
The movement was organised online and spread quickly in no time, but it was disinformation and fake news that spread faster than facts. The over-simplification by international media was because it had to explain 30 years of political evolution in a country that they mostly ignored in the past, this sometimes tended to be misleading.&nbsp;
While the Oli government’s social media ban of 26 platforms starting 5 September poured oil on the fire that had already been lit by a disparate group of desperate youth, their outrage over decades of corruption and impunity was reaching a breaking point. There was extreme disenchantment with serial politicians recycling themselves in power.&nbsp;
“The ban on social media definitely triggered the protest, but we put a high priority on accuracy and speed during reporting in such times,” explains the Nepal correspondent for Associated Press (AP) news agency in Nepal Binaj Gurubacharya. “Our own safety also becomes a prime concern in times like these, but should not be at an expense of accuracy.”
CRISIS REPORTING
But headlines everywhere including in The New York Times, The Guardian and others that used wire service content initially highlighted the social media ban as the main reason for the protest. They were soon called out by protesters, while <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en/ajr/article/3358" target="_blank">Al Jazeera</a> and its <a href="https://institute.aljazeera.net/en" target="_blank">Media Institute </a>were applauded for more nuanced coverage.
Another positive example of international media supplementing the stories by local journalists was <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/" target="_blank">France 24’</a>s detailed <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20250915-nepal-police-protests-violence-kathmandu" target="_blank">forensic analysis</a> of the security forces firing live ammunition at protesters at Parliament on 8 September.&nbsp;
What really went far and wide around the world were dramatic YouTube videos about the violence, and memes on social media. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-accidental-journalist" target="_blank">A British tourist</a> who filmed street protests did the work of an on-the-ground journalist and got millions of views globally for some of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Slq6zWu9o9w" target="_blank">his YouTube videos</a>.&nbsp;
But some of the misinformation or fake news on social media was also picked up by the mainstream press, like the <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/south-asia/nepal-violence-ex-pm-khanals-wife-dies-after-house-torched-president-urges-calm-dialogue/articleshow/123791004.cms">wrongly reported death of former Prime Minister Jhalanath Khanal’s wife</a> in an arson attack on their home. A video of the Finance Minister Bishnu Poudel being <a href="https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/video-nepal-finance-minister-chased-through-street-kicked-attacked-9243749">chased and beaten</a> by protesters also turned out to be someone else.&nbsp;
Some international outlets, mainly in India, also fell prey to a fake video that K P Oli had fled to Dubai. Even this newspaper’s online edition had to correct it after wrongly reporting it without verification.&nbsp;
Indian tv channels which did &nbsp;extensive coverage of events in Nepal, with many Nepalis relying on them and believing their content — especially during the protests when Nepal’s main channels went off air as they were being attacked.
All this got out of hand, and protesters in the week after the violence started ridiculing and harassing Indian tv correspondents as they tried to interview talking heads outside the charred Parliament building, or on the streets.
<a href="https://www.newslaundry.com/2025/09/09/foreign-hand-gen-z-data-addiction-5-ways-indian-media-missed-the-nepal-story">Indian media</a> were also the first to accuse US involvement in sparking a ‘colour revolution’ in Nepal. They later claimed that former Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) chief and now Energy Minister Kulman Ghising and even Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah have been appointed interim prime minister in Nepal. These were rumours in Nepal, but were reported as news.&nbsp;
“Fact checking is crucial while covering such movements, and since we are telling an important story about Nepal to the world, double checking becomes important as it sets the international narrative,” says Mathema. “We were constantly double checking with concerned authorities as so much misinformation was being spread.”
“We were constantly double checking numbers and information with concerned authorities and parties to make sure we were accurate, especially as misinformation was rampant,” she adds.
Apart from Indian media, international news agencies got reinforcements of reporters, photojournalists and editors from the region, and other foreign correspondents also flew in when Kathmandu airport was opened after 48 hours.
Adds Mathema: “Sometimes foreign reporters can give a fresh perspective or an angle which we could not see or cover. So their inputs are always helpful.”
In the aftermath of the violence, there were plenty of jokes and memes, clips of protesters dancing, in weird poses and performing martial arts, showcasing the light hearted side of the protests while also <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution">reaffirming the resilience</a> of people able to bounce back from something so traumatic.
The GenZ clean-up campaigns, neighbourhoods helping restore burnt out police stations and local people’s emotional reaction to the burnt out hulks of government buildings at the city centre also <a href="https://www.scmp.com/week-asia/people/article/3325635/nepals-gen-z-protesters-lead-clean-campaign-after-violent-clashes">made news</a>.
“After the protests, people were quick to gather and clean up public spaces and paint police stations. This is a scene which may not be so common in other countries with similar violence,” adds Gurubacharya. “So it became an important story to also tell the world.”&nbsp;
In less than two days, the world saw a dramatic toppling of a democratic government. With the interim government led by former chief justice Sushila Karki, there is much hope. She has expanded her ministerial cabinet, and the election has been announced for 5 March 2026 but between then and now, a lot remains uncertain.&nbsp;
And Nepal will continue to be watched by national and international media alike until then and after. AP’s Gurubacharya sums it up: “For now, we are taking it one day at a time.”