As a former company commander of the Maoist militia, Niraka Gharti Magar used to raid banks and government offices. But 18 years after the end of the conflict, she now has to work regularly with bankers and bureaucrats to expand her handicraft business. Despite being good in studies, Niraka dropped out of school and joined the Maoists to undergo guerrilla training, and soon saw action attacking police posts, army bases and government installations across Nepal. She firmly believed in the cause, and the Maoist goal of establishing a ‘New Nepal’. &nbsp; The supreme commander of Maoist guerrillas Pushpa Kamal Dahal is now prime minister for the third time in Kathmandu, and three decades after the start of the conflict, much has remained the same here in the rugged mountains of central Nepal.&nbsp; Niraka has found that perhaps peacetime struggles are more difficult than waging revolution. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/weaving-the-fabric-of-a-new-life">Weaving the fabric of a new life</a>, Sahina Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230808040856_b3109170f5cb7c1f4928ec8fc0ce7925a993a589dade44e8bbf38315bcd3b8a6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230808040856_b3109170f5cb7c1f4928ec8fc0ce7925a993a589dade44e8bbf38315bcd3b8a6" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="509" loading="lazy" alt="Ex-guerrilla’s revolution in rural Nepal NT"> </figure>  After the ceasefire in 2006, Niraka joined nearly 20,000 former guerrillas in UN-supervised demobilisation camps. The Maoists came down from the mountains to win elections. She could have been inducted into the national army, but stayed home to take care of her daughter and husband, also a former guerrilla who was wounded in battle. It was too late to resume where she had left off with her education, and returning to her husband’s ancestral village in Rukum she got involved with a community forest users group. But she found it difficult to get a job because of the stigma of her Maoist past. The family moved to Musikot of Rukum district for a fresh start in 2016, and Niraka enrolled to be trained as a weaver. Business grew, and soon she could not keep up with demand for handcrafted woollen mats and blankets, cloth bags and garments, some of which are exported to Singapore and elsewhere.&nbsp; Today, her Prem Dhaka Udyog in Musikot is not just a successful business but also provides income to hundreds of women in the district which in turn empowers them with financial independence. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/guerrilla-turned-member-of-parliament">Guerrilla-turned-Member of Parliament</a>, Anita Bhetwal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230808040856_9978eb1552ea07cf96ea19383b0e172431ba01280c7c76f2ab6da42da3ffb5af.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230808040856_9978eb1552ea07cf96ea19383b0e172431ba01280c7c76f2ab6da42da3ffb5af" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="509" loading="lazy" alt="Ex-guerrilla’s revolution in rural Nepal NT"> </figure>  “It was just one training to be a weaver that opened the door for me,” Niraka says. “It changed my life, and look at where I am today.”&nbsp; Niraka is not reluctant to share what she has learnt, and constantly trains and supports women who wish to learn handicraft skills. She often travels to surrounding districts to work with trainee weavers through her own cooperative. Women previously confined to domestic chores are now more self-reliant, many of them joined the trade and are supporting each other by sharing resources and collaborating on products. Weaving is a labour-intensive craft that demands patience and perseverance, a perfect fit for Niraka who has honed those qualities through war and peace. She sees a weaver’s job as not just a means of livelihood for herself and others, but as an effective way to challenge societal norms and provide freedom to fellow-women. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/from-heads-to-toes">From heads to toes</a>, Sanghamitra Subba  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230808040856_52bbe153535049bfc304ec8b98d5dd8f3d4932edc2801451236de879f451e33c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230808040856_52bbe153535049bfc304ec8b98d5dd8f3d4932edc2801451236de879f451e33c" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="509" loading="lazy" alt="Ex-guerrilla’s revolution in rural Nepal NT"> <figcaption>Woven handicrafts made by Niraka Gharti Magar’s Prem Dhaka Udyog.</figcaption> </figure>  Niraka herself is modest about her achievements, crediting the resilience and inner strength of Nepali women: “In rural areas, women are often confined to cooking and household chores. They have proved that they can achieve much more.”&nbsp; Niraka’s transformation from fighter to educator is a tale for the ages. Despite her tumultuous journey, it is a story that change is possible when determination meets opportunity and proof that empowerment does not always have to come out of a barrel of a gun. Niraka has carved a niche for herself in the handicraft industry while also paving the way for other women to become self-reliant, and has become a respected member of her community. She says: “Self-awareness is the first step, and with the government as &nbsp;guardian, we have shown we can provide confidence and support to Nepali women.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/feminising-farm-based-firms">Feminising farm-based firms</a>, Shristi Karki Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/137325?fbclid=IwAR0jk-2oKL9OEbDMkjTgTofrLUbc5aliFl4yUvXGwtT7UklmMcCOQjBI9uQ">Nepali original</a> by Aayusha Pokharel.

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“How can we argue that those victims whose loved ones disappeared should simply forget?”

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11459c7e80680e0da4d1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1066" height="640"/><figcaption>Gaura Rokaya mourns eight family members killed by soldiers in Pandusen of Bajura in 2002 on suspicion of being maoists. Photo: MOHAN MAINALI/ A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption></figure>Mimamsha Dhungel was barely eight when Nepal’s decade-long armed conflict ended, and she has vague memories of clutching a packet of cheese balls in her hands on 24 April 2006 and being part of a victory rally from Thankot to Kalanki to celebrate the restoration of Parliament and the end of the war.“My grandfather was martyred in the war,” Dhungel, now a 22-year-old student, says. “The struggle is a part of history that we cannot forget.”Monday, 13 February marks 27 years since the Maoists took up arms against the state, and almost 17 years since Nepal’s current Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal of the Maoist and then Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala of the Nepali Congress (NC) signed the Comprehensive Peace Accord that marked the end of the conflict that left 17,000 Nepalis dead.Yet, even as relatives of victims demand justice Nepal’s political mechanism and leadership, which is made up of former enemies, has ensured that no side is held accountable for the atrocities committed during the conflict.Suman Adhikari’s father Muktinath Adhikari was a teacher at a school in Duradanda of Lamjung. In January 2002, he was taken away by Maoists while in class and later executed because he refused to donate a share of his salary to fund their cause.“To be reminded that it has been 27 years since the war began, and almost 17 years since the peace accord was signed is painful, but at the same time it is also worrying that the society at large has stopped talking about it,” says Suman Adhikari. “Whichever government it is, the strategy has been to delay, dilute, and deny victims truth and justice.”https://youtu.be/Rfj5t6dIiKcNot only have Nepalis begun to forget, but there is also now an entire generation of young people who were either not born or were too young to remember what it was like to live in fear of the soldiers, police or guerrillas.And just like the political leadership and governments have refused to ensure that Nepalis learn our history, they have also kept the conflict years out of the school textbooks.The Grade 10 textbook published by the Curriculum Development Centre (CDC) reduces the decade-long war into just a mention in a historical timeline. Textbooks put out by private publishers are better, but still offer few details: reducing the war to brief sentences that mention the start of the war, the massacre of King Birendra’s family, and the 12-point peace agreement.The Grade 12 textbook published by the CDC has dedicated just three sentences to the start of the war, and three sentences to the peace accord in its section about Nepal’s history.The textbooks make no mention of the cost and achievements of the conflict.Bhuwan Raj Shrestha, who teaches higher-secondary level Social Studies in Kathmandu says he tried to bridge the gap. “I try to provide context when I teach my students that particular chapter, and a few students who tend to rank higher in class show an interest and ask for details, but that’s about it,” he says.Shrestha himself used to be headmaster at a school in Nawalparasi during the conflict, and came to Kathmandu for safety after running afoul of the Maoists.Pranjal Pokharel grew up with a father who is a police officer. So he has some experience of the war, but he has little information.“Our political stability and impunity now is rooted in whatever happened back then, so it is important for us to learn about what happened,” says the 22-year-old student. “Whatever we have in the curriculum is just the tip of the iceberg, and doesn’t go in-depth at all.”Aarati Ray, 19, also admits she does not know much about the conflict because it is not taught very well in high school. “There was so much about World War I and World War II in our school textbooks, but there was nothing in-depth about the Maoist war,” says Ray.But veteran journalist Rajendra Dahal, editor of Sikshak monthly magazine for teachers, notes that the absence of information about the war is part of a larger problem with Nepal’s learning system and education sector.“Young people’s lack of knowledge is not limited to the armed conflict, most Nepali students are literate but do not have any real understanding that is applicable in the real world,” says Dahal. “As we have become modern and educated, we have also become ignorant and intolerant.”Journalist Mohan Mainali reported from across Nepal about the human cost of the war and is concerned that almost three decades later, the lack of awareness about Nepal’s recent history and how it could pose a great threat to the nation.“ A society that doesn’t know its history risks repeating it,” he says. “We are again seeing an obsession for newer parties because of disillusionment with the establishment. It could once more take a violent turn, it is a vicious cycle.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11489c7e80680e0da4d2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="579" height="711"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>While the younger generation must be aware of recent history it is not enough to rely solely on textbooks, he says. Indeed, students actually needed to answer questions about the conflict during exams before the peace accord was signed, but the curriculum changed over the decade, and even the exam paper doesn’t have questions specific to the armed conflict anymore.Conflict victim organisations have repeatedly submitted guidelines to political leaders pushing for the war to be included in the school curriculum. But those in power are reluctant because then they  will have to answer to the people about why they were made to suffer.Says Suman Adhikari: “The reality of the conflict is our history, and it must not be hidden. We as a nation need to acknowledge the mistakes of our past so that we might move on, and also so that Nepalis do not ever have to go through something like this ever again.”With additional reporting by Swapnil KC.

Shristi Karki

Delay, dilute, deny

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11629c7e80680e0da4d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"/><figcaption>Folk-rock singer Amrit Gurung presenting a copy of A People War in 2007 to Hemanta Bista at the same spot where the photo was taken five years previously.</figcaption></figure>During the Maoist conflict, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-battered-future,3218">Hemanta Bista was an 8-year-old student</a> at a school in Motipur in Kailali District by the East-West Highway. A police station next to the school had been attacked by Maoist guerrillas in 2002, killing most of its 10 personnel.The building was in ruins, and the children never ventured close because they were told it was haunted. One afternoon, they saw a man with a ponytail and moustache, camera slung around his shoulder, taking pictures of the building.Read on: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ghosts-of-war/">Ghosts of war</a>, Sonia AwaleHe was none other than Amrit Gurung, Nepal’s popular folk-rock singer who was on a peace concert tour of western Nepal.Gurung is also an avid photographer, and specialises in portraits. He remembers: “I was taking some slides with an old-fashioned analog camera when I saw two boys peer out of a hole in the wall made by a mortar shell.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11659c7e80680e0da4dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="1138"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The colour slides had to be sent to a studio in Kathmandu to be processed, and when he got them back Gurung found one of them to be a striking image.“That photograph of Hemanta and Aman really touched me, the hole in the wall looked like an outline of Nepal, and it was symbolic of the kind of Nepal we are leaving for the next generation. A land in ruins.”In 2006, after the ceasefire, the photograph was chosen as the cover image for the first volume, A People War लडाईमा जनता , of Kunda Dixit’s trilogy of photo books on the conflict published by nepa~laya.When Amrit Gurung passed Motipur again in 2007 on another concert tour, he invited Hemanta, who was now 13, to present the boy with a copy of the book posing in front of the same hole in the wall of the police station.Hemanta now has an MBA and works as a customer relations officer in an automobile dealership in Kathmandu. Hemanta remembers the night of the raid on the police station, and helicopters arriving the next morning to take the bodies away.The war was always close during his childhood because his father was in the Nepal Police and several uncles and an aunt were Maoist guerrillas.Hemanta remembers his mother being worried all the time and fainting whenever she heard of a police station being attacked. Hemanta’s father rarely came home for holidays for fear of being found out, but when he did he used to sleep in the paddy fields nearby in case the Maoists targeted him.“We saw so much violence and death during our childhood, but today we see no big change for the better in Nepal, all those lives were lost in vain,” says Hemanta, now 28. “It is because of our parents that we got a good education, so now we can take care of them.”

Kunda Dixit

Photographic memory of war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe11359c7e80680e0da4cdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="654"/><figcaption>The Maoist conflict began 27 years ago this week. The former Maoist commander is Nepal's prime minister for the third time, and politics has been in disarray ever since the war ended 17 years ago. Photo: KIRAN PANDEY/NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption></figure>This week marks 27 years since the start of the Maoist conflict that claimed the lives of 17,000 Nepalis. A whole new generation has grown up without any memory or knowledge of the insurgency, and how it has shaped Nepali society and politics, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/armed-conflict-and-conflict-of-interest/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">for better or worse (mostly the latter)</a>.The fact that Chairman Prachanda who admitted to being responsible for “only” 5,000 of the deaths during his insurgency is now Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal for the third time has left many<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/guerrilla-turned-member-of-parliament/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> (including his own former guerrillas and comrades)</a> wondering what it was all for.When heinous war crimes including summary executions, torture, disappearances and war rape by both sides go <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">unaddressed and unpunished</a>, the sense of impunity makes Rabi Lamichhane’s citizenship debacle just a procedural lapse.“A society that doesn’t know its history or doesn’t learn from it is bound to repeat the same mistakes,” warns Mohan Mainali, a film-maker who documented the conflict. “As it is, we are already seeing public disenchantment with the established parties turning into support for newer parties and their populist leaders.”The question now is: are the new parties that emerged from the November federal elections really that different? The way Lamichhane got himself appointed Home Minister in the 7-party coalition showed a clear <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/conflicting-interests/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflict of interest</a>, where power trumped ethics. And the prolonged tirade against the media during his press conference was seen by many as a blatant attempt to divert attention from his transgressions by blaming the messenger.In a way, Lamichhane is latching on to a mass yearning for change, much in the same way that the Maoist parties swept the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14730#.Y-XHay8w1KM" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">2008 Constituent Assembly</a> elections by promising societal transformation through the democratic process. Overwhelming numbers of Nepalis voted for the Maoists then, not necessarily because they supported them, but because they did not want them to go back into the jungle.The peace process that followed the conflict may not have made Nepali society more egalitarian, but there is now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-local-election-gives-power-back-to-people/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">more inclusion in politics</a>, the job market, education, women, and excluded groups having found space they previously lacked.  Nepal went from a Hindu monarchy to being a secular federal republic, and the Madhes movement would likely not have happened without the insurgency making people aware of their rights.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/armed-conflict-and-conflict-of-interest/">Armed Conflict and Conflict of Interest</a>, Editorial<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe113a9c7e80680e0da4cejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“But the question is, did we need to kill a whole lot of people to achieve that?” asks Rajendra Dahal, editor of Shikshak monthly. “Sure, we have matured as a society, but just about everything else is worse than before the insurgency: development, economy, education, and most of all, our politics.”Even so, Nepal is considered a model for post-conflict reconciliation with the former rebels transitioning into mainstream politics in the past 17 years. Dahal is prime minister for the third time <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/oli-dahal-political-deja-vu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">with the UML in the coalition</a>, and Sher Bahadur Deuba of the Nepali Congress a close ally despite being in the opposition. The former enemies are no longer in government together, but Dahal incongruously heads a coalition made up of anti-secular, anti-federal and pro-monarchy forces.“Sure, the war led to notable political and social reforms but unfortunately the very political decline that led to the conflict is more evident, the fact that the behaviour and mentality of our leaders haven’t changed makes all other achievements of the revolution meaningless,” says Mainali.The former enemies do not want to rake up war crimes and want the atrocities their forces committed to be forgotten. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Commission on the Investigation of Enforced Disappearances (CIED) have<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/"> turned transitional justice into a farce</a>.“There is not much hope for transitional justice given the very perpetrators are now the state, but we as a society must remember to remember the insurgency and people who have blood on their hands, at the very least to prevent another war,” adds Mainali.The families of the victims or those who disappeared during the war continue to wait for the truth. On the 21th anniversary last week of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6369#.Y-XIii8w1KM" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the execution by the Maoists of Muktinath Adhikari</a>, a teacher in Lamjung, his daughter Sabita Adhikari pleaded for justice.She wrote: “We lost our father. Nothing will bring him back. If his murderers are not caught and punished, there is a danger of another conflict that will make more orphans like us.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/"> Nepal's unpunished war crimes</a>, Sabita Adhikari

Sonia Awale

Ghosts of war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10e59c7e80680e0da4b6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2048" height="1364"/><figcaption>Photo: RSP</figcaption></figure>This week marks 27 years since the Maoists launched their armed struggle. Three decades later, and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/20-years-wasted-in-war,2850">17 years after the war ended</a>, the leader of the revolution is prime minister of Nepal for the third time.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/">Maoists waged war</a> to end the monarchy, and turn Nepal into a federal, secular republic. But Prime Minister <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/pushpa-kamal-dahal-is-still-prachanda/">Pushpa Kamal Dahal</a> (aka Prachanda) shares power in a coalition with openly anti-secular, royalist and anti-federal parties.Former enemies are now the state. And while this may be a model for post-conflict reconciliation, it also means that neither the security forces and their civilian leaders, nor the Maoist leadership and their guerrilla commanders, have had to answer for <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/">heinous crimes</a> committed during the insurgency.The former antagonists have made sure that the two commissions mandated to deliver transitional justice remain toothless. Social science and history text books make no mention of the violent conflict that left 17,000 Nepalis dead. A whole generation of Nepalis has grown up with no knowledge of what happened between 1996 and 2006.Many of the survivors and families of victims have lost faith in ever getting justice, and have moved on because of the pressures of day-to-day survival. Time is erasing memories, and that suits the perpetrators of war crimes fine, since they want us to forget what happened.As they watch at the way the country has been run, however, the hundreds of thousands of Nepali civilians and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/ex-guerrillas-regret-the-war/">fighters who suffered</a>, were tortured, wounded, displaced or bereaved, are thinking: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/revisiting-maoist-demands,2860">what was it all for</a>?On 4 February 1996 at Singha Darbar, Maoist ideologue <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/nepals-maoist-revolution-from-the-inside/">Baburam Bhattarai</a> presented to Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba (yes, his first of five tenures in office) 40 demands. His party did not even wait for the government’s response, and on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february/">13 Feburary 1996</a> launched simultaneous attacks on police stations across the country.The conflict was never about a ‘revolution’. The war was just politics by other (violent) means. The behaviour of their leaders in government today probably <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870">gives little comfort</a> to former guerrillas and comrades. In fact, like in any other party, Pushpa Kamal Dahal has purged all potential rivals from the Maoist Centre.Just like K P Oli of the UML, and to a certain extent the NC’s Sher Bahadur Deuba, Dahal’s conduct is based on the principle of ‘I am the party, the party is me.’The tragedy is that the leader of the brand new alternative party professing integrity and good governance which came out of nowhere to be the fourth largest entity in Parliament after the November election, showed himself this week to be of the same ilk.Having the coalition appoint himself Home Minister, in charge of the very Police that was investigating his citizenship, showed poor judgement and elastic ethics. Lamichhane was behaving like the very politicians he was rebelling against.His RSP won 20 seats in the House because of protest votes – a rejection by many young Nepalis of same old politics by same old politicians. But Rabi Lamichhane’s stream of consciousness rant the other day after he was refused to be reinstated as Home Minister was reminiscent of Trumpian populism – the same ‘drain the swamp’ and anti-media whataboutery.Lamichhane served as tv anchor in the established media after returning from the United States and later renouncing his citizenship, but understood the true power of social media after tens of thousands of followers showed up at a support rally in Chitwan when he was arrested after being accused to abetting the suicide of someone investigated by his tv program.His press conference on 5 February, therefore, was a demonstration of the clash between new and old media, between new and old politics.Of course, Nepal’s media is not spotless. It would be surprising if it was an island of uprightness when there is rot all around. Most tycoons who also own media are in cahoots with politicians and contractors. If we are honest with ourselves, some of Lamichhane’s supporters have a valid reason for calling journalists पत्रुकार, loosely translated as ‘presstitutes’.But it is easy to see why Lamichhane came out with all guns blazing against the media, and not the prime minister who had just refused to hand him back the home ministership. It was to divert attention from the investigation into his dual citizenship that is like a sword hanging over his head.But let who is without sin cast the first stone. Most leaders in the established parties either have dirt, or blood in their hands for which they have never faced justice. Lamichhane’s citizenship transgression was procedural – not murder or corruption which is what many in power have gotten away with.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/rsp-quits-nepal-coalition/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">RSP quits Nepal coalition</a>, Nepali Times

Armed Conflict and Conflict of Interest

<img width="800" height="451" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131132/637235539c7e80680e0c497djpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Nepali human rights activists and survivors of the 1996-2006 Maoist insurgency have written to United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres alerting him to ‘multiple flaws’ in a transitional justice amendment bill before Nepal’s Parliament.The letter was handed over to the UN Resident Coordinator in Nepal Richard Howard on Monday in Kathmandu, one day before the International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances on 30 August. A copy of the letter was also given to Michelle Bachelet Jeria, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights.The Comprehensive Peace Accord of 2006 envisaged setting up a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-closure-after-nepals-insurgency/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-closure-after-nepals-insurgency/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1661934213834000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0gT_QRHglKZGU7wjxZeoZm">transitional justice mechanism</a> with the formation of a Commission for the Investigation of Enforced Disappeared Persons and a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The commissions were finally formed in 2014, but have <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/stop-stalling-transitional-justice-global-human-rights-bodies/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/stop-stalling-transitional-justice-global-human-rights-bodies/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1661934213834000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3BQNmw2JY2EtTKZ9hfL2bK">lacked teeth</a> because former enemies have served together in coalition governments that have tried to brush war-time atrocities under the carpet. Read  also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/dead-and-dying,3955">The dead, and the dying</a>, Om Astha RaiThe Commission on Enforced Disappearances did draw up a list of 1,334 people who have been missing since the conflict ended in 2006. Less than half of the families of those disappeared by both sides have received compensation.But, more importantly, most have not been told the truth about whether their relatives are dead or alive, why they were taken away, or where their bodies are. Most families have been living for the past 16 years without closure.The government had been stalling on implementing a Supreme Court ruling to amend the 2014 transitional justice law, but got the human rights activist turned Minister for Law and Constitutional Affairs Govinda Sharma Bandi last month to present an amendment bill in Parliament.Human rights activists and conflict groups have held street demonstrations against the proposed bill, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1661934213834000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3yY1dq5VJPT-IyGX1Pigr2">which they say is perpetrator-friendly</a>, and would grant amnesty to those responsible for war crimes by both sides during the conflict. Minister Bandi serves in a government led by the Nepali Congress which was in power for most of the conflict years, their coalition partners from the Maoist party which was waging an armed struggle. <img width="1554" height="1468" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131132/637235559c7e80680e0c497ejpeg.jpg" alt="">Both parties now find themselves on the same side, and appear to have colluded to ensure that the draft bill will allow state security forces and guerrilla commanders who are now in government to not be answerable for torture and disappearances, summary executions, rape and other heinous crimes.The letter to the UN Secretary-General seeks his good offices to ensure that changes be made to the draft bill so that families and victims receive truth and justice. It reminds the Secretary-General that the United Nations has been a meaningful partner in Nepal’s peace process, which makes it surprising that the respective Special Rapporteurs, the OHCHR and other UN entities have not publicly reacted to the transitional justice bill.The letter states that the transitional justice bill does not follow the ruling of Nepal’s Supreme Court and goes against international law. It draws attention to the re-definition and distinction between ‘murder’ and ‘cruelly conducted murder’ in the bill, as well as the issues of child soldiers, torture and wartime rape.‘The amendment bill is designed to provide de facto immunity to perpetrators of both sides,’ the letter states, adding, “we hope that the United Nations will remain engaged on the matter.’UN Resident Coordinator Richard Howard assured the meeting of human rights conflict victims’ groups (pictured) that the United Nations remained committed to values inherent in the transitional justice process.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/forgetting-to-remember/">Forgetting to remember</a>, Sahina ShresthaThe letter was signed by Gauri Sankhar Lal Das and Sushil Pyakurel (former commissioners of National Human Rights Commission), Kul Chandra Gautam (Former Assistant Secretary General of the United Nations, Min Bahadur Shahi (Human Rights Alliance), Nani Maya Thapa (NGO Federation of Nepal), Suman Adhikari (Conflict Victim Orphan Society Nepal) and Maina Karki (Conflict Victims’ Common Platform), among others.It also included victims’ groups, including the Army Single Women and Injured Families Group, Conflict Victims’ Society for Justice, Amar Prahari Pariwar, Conflict Victims’ National Alliance, Discharged People’s Liberation Army Nepal.Read more: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/">Transitional injustice in Nepal</a>, Kanak Mani Dixit

Nepali activists write to UN Secretary-General

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114131124/637233819c7e80680e0c48e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Illustration: SUBHASH RAI/NEPALI TIMES</figcaption></figure>Eighteen years after the end of Nepal's Maoist conflict, and eight years after the Supreme Court ruled that a law on transitional justice was inadequate, the coalition government last month finally registered a bill to amend it.But human rights experts say the draft fulfilled neither the aspirations of victims, nor international law. The proposed amendment to the Commission of Inquiry on Enforced Disappearances, Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act 2014 still provides amnesty to perpetrators.“Starting the amendment process after so long, and consultations held in the seven provinces were positive steps that gave victims and their families a ray of hope,” says Raju Prasad Chapagai, a constitutional and human rights lawyer. “But the draft bill fails to address their demands for truth and justice.”In its 2015 ruling, the Supreme Court ordered a revision of the Act to ensure that heinous crimes like rape, extrajudicial killings, torture and enforced disappearances could not be pardoned. Since then, successive governments have challenged that ruling and stalled the transitional justice process.The draft bill does include the right to reparation and interim relief for victims, and gives the two commissions truth-seeking mandates. But activists say it makes an absurd distinction between murder and brutal murder, and stipulates that the verdict of the Special Court cannot be appealed.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/">Nepal’s unpunished war crimes</a>, Sabita Adhikari“War crimes cannot be selectively categorised to bypass criminal accountability,” states Chapagai. “Also, the right to appeal is one of the minimum standards of human rights norms. The clause is arbitrary as accused from both sides may need to appeal their cases.”As per the draft bill, the transitional justice commissions will have to make recommendations to the Attorney General’s office to start prosecution, which will then forward the cases to a Special Court, which in turn is supposed to come to a decision within six months.Legal experts say that the six month interval is not enough for proper investigation. Apart from letting down families of victims and survivors, what surprised activists was the way the amendment bill was registered on 15 July.“It was wrong of Minister for Law and Constitutional Affairs to hurriedly register the bill in the middle of the night,” says Lily Thapa of the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC).“Violations should not have been categorised, and heinous crimes must be investigated and tried,” she adds.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-closure-after-nepals-insurgency/">No closure after Nepal’s insurgency</a>, Mandira Sharma and Mohna AnsariFamilies also worry that with the Maoists now in the governing coalition with their erstwhile enemies the Nepali Congress, justice may never be served. They are also surprised that the bill was registered by Minister Bandi, who was once a transitional justice activist and supported their cause.“What is the point of registering an amendment bill if the grievances and demands of the victims are not addressed?” asks Thapa.Former NHRC head Sushil Pyakurel says one has to take into account the intentions of the coalition leadership to understand the timing of the draft bill.“Even since entering politics in 2006, the Maoists have never had to admit to any wrongdoing or express remorse for their crimes. They have always thought of themselves as the victors,” Pyakurel says.In 2001, it was Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba’s government that declared a nation-wide emergency and mobilised the Royal Nepal Army to fight the Maoists led by Pushpa Kamal Dahal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/impunity-through-immunity/">Impunity through immunity</a>, Raju Prasad ChapagainToday, Deuba is prime minister again and his close coalition ally is Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal, a former nemesis. The Army and two police forces are also accused of numerous wartime atrocities.“Both Dahal and Deuba are trying to brush war crimes under the carpet, and that is what brings the two former enemies together,” explains Pyakurel. "Neither wants to express remorse and admit that atrocities were committed."Nepal’s transitional justice process was supported by the Europeans and Americans, but with the weakening of the West and the rise of next door India and China there is less pressure to follow through on transitional justice.Says Pyakurel, “Having two powerful countries as neighbours is both a blessing and a curse for Nepal. Neither are strong proponents of human rights, but Nepali victims of conflict need justice and closure.”Go <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/">online</a> for Kanak Mani Dixit's detailed analysis of the draft amendment, Transitional Injustice in Nepal.

Sahina Shrestha

Forgetting to remember

<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111413114/63722f1d9c7e80680e0c24fcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"/>Sixteen years after the war everyone in Nepal still needs Transitional Justice.In November October 2006, the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) promised us truth and justice about what had gone on in the previous decade. But nothing has happened.Perhaps most shocking, the promise that the whereabouts of the disappeared would be revealed within 60 days has been completely ignored, and their families have been badly betrayed.The only real outcome of the CPA has been the creation of myths and false promises around transitional justice for survivors.Certainly, the victims, survivors, families, and friends all are central to the process and they must be the first to be consulted. Their priorities and demands fit neatly into what is now an established international tradition of transitional justice after conflict. Four main elements are key: truth, justice, reparations and non-recurrence.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/">Nepal runs out of excuses to address war crimes</a>,Tufan NeupaneBut we must be clear that while reparations and memorialisation are primarily for victims, truth, justice and non-repetition affect every Nepali— all the people who lived through the conflict had their lives changed, mostly in a negative way, even if only at the basic economic level. Some lost land, others were badly treated, many lived in fear, were displaced, lost jobs, income and opportunities. Everyone has the right to know the truth, to know what happened, and why.As a society, we also need to know what it is to be like to wait for your loved one for years not knowing their fate. What is to suffer in silence following a gang rape? How does it feel to live without a limb and with the trauma of witnessing the beheading of your near and dear people? What is it like to not have closure?As a nation, we all need to know what led to the war that cost so many lives to prevent a similar situation in future.All of those old enough to remember the period before conflict will recall how badly the state served them. How awful the police and army were, how hopeless, expensive and slow the justice system was, how the political patronage destroyed the public institution. Finding the truth of the conflict, unpacking the basis of such conflicts, and the experiences of survivors will help us understand how it affects our daily life today and what needs to be done.Not many people feel that the police force protects and serves us all as it claims. Not many understand why the army is still so big, and why it is such an important economic actor.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/toothless-commissions/">Toothless Commissions</a>, EditorialNot many people realise why law does not treat everyone equally, why they still have very limited access to justice unless they are rich or have good connections. A truth process about the conflict will shed a lot of light on these issues and our system which is often difficult to understand and analyse.Sexual violence against women is among the biggest societal issues today, as it was during the conflict. If we understand sexual violence in the conflict, we will be better informed about its nature. This in turn will provide us with a much clearer picture of how we must deal with them at present time.Many of the young women protesting against recent rape cases including that of Nirmala and Sushmita were not even of school age when the conflict ended. They need to know the history to better campaign today.It is clear that young people are not satisfied with the political set up today, 16 years after the CPA. And they have a right to know the history of their country, the events that made it what it is.This is not really surprising. We are living in a post-conflict period. Those who make decisions for us in 2022 are the same people who did so during the conflict years, whose decisions cost lives of many people and forced many more to suffer silently, including women raped and tortured. These women are not recognised as conflict victims. They are deprived of interim relief offered to other conflict victims.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/rocky-transition-to-justice/">Rocky transition to justice</a>, EditorialIt's tragic we have learnt very little from the conflict which could have taught us so much.  Some of us remember the excitement and promise of Republic Day in May 2008, nearly 14 years ago.No one told us then that there would be no reformation of the police, why we still need the APF, a counterinsurgency force set up in the conflict which no longer has an insurgency to fight. No one told us that our taxes would be used up paying for an army of nearly 100,000, with no enemy to fight unless we decide to invade India or China. No one told us that the new Nepal would remain a place where the lives of women would continue to be hidden and misreported.Yes, we demand reparations and memorialisation for victims. But we also want truth and justice because this is the society we decided we wanted when the war started and when it ended.This week, around 30 women who suffered sexual violence and rape during conflict are coming to Kathmandu from different parts of country once again to demand what they want from the TJ process. Their demand for truth, justice and reparation is to help build a new Nepal, to unearth the past and learn from it.Let us hope the people who have previously claimed to campaign for human rights provide safe space for those open to sharing their pain and anguish, and deliver their promise to establish a credible TJ process in Nepal.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-struggle-for-transitional-justice/">The struggle for Transitional Justice</a>, Hari PhuyalMohna Ansari is Commissioner, National Human Rights Commission of Nepal. Mandira Sharma is a lawyer and human rights defender who co-founded Advocacy Forum in 2001.

No closure after Nepal’s insurgency

<figure><img width="800" height="533" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209649c7e80680e0b553cjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nagma Mali holding a picture of her father Nandagopal Mali. Photo: BIKKIL STHAPIT/ VOICES OF WOMEN MEDIA</figcaption></figure>On 22 June 2004, Nandagopal Mali left home in Thecho, Lalitpur as usual for his workshop where he was casting a bronze statue for a customer. He hasn’t been seen since.His daughter Nagma, who was eight at the time, kept waiting for her dad. Seventeen years later, she is still waiting.Having already lost her mother three years previously, while giving birth to her younger sister, Nagma could never accept that her father was gone and with no official proof of his demise, held on to the hope that he would come back one day.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/351/Nation/13585#.Ygs50u5Bz0s">Disappeared, dead or alive</a>, Anagha NeelakantanSoon after Nandagopal went missing, Nagma’s grandfather Sanu Mali took charge of searching for his son but he passed away soon after.It was then Nagma’s grandmother who stepped up, relentlessly questioning Royal Nepal Army officials and holding protests every day in Maitighar.One day, after returning from daily protests, Nagma’s grandmother told her about two children who were also searching for their missing parents.Nagma was a quiet girl whose first instinct was to hide when someone visited her home, but she decided to join her grandmother on the streets. <figure><img width="585" height="444" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209679c7e80680e0b553djpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“It was my grandmother who made me the strong, independent person that I am today, fighting for justice,” says Nagma. “She also involved me in all important decision making, installing self-confidence in me.”She followed her grandmother to the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons and participated in every program advocating justice for crimes committed during the Maoist conflict. She met others like her with missing parents, but had not given up the search.By then Nagma had completed her secondary education and was trying to decide on her career. One day, Nagma’s grandmother was stopped at the Chauni army barrack and was not allowed in.This was when Nagma realised that you either had to be someone with influence or a journalist to gain access to important places and people.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16267#.Ygs5zu5Bz0s">Vanishing Hope</a>, Ram Kumar BhandariNagma enrolled at Ratna Rajya Campus for a degree in journalism. But before long her only remaining support, her grandmother, died leaving her in charge of raising younger sister Swastika. But Nagma persisted and kept looking for her father on her own.She tried to visit top-ranking officials, joined the ‘Martyrs and Disappeared Warrior Children’ foundation and submitted a memorandum to the government to reveal the whereabouts of her missing father. But as her questions went unanswered and the state failed to investigate the case, her faith in the Disparaged Persons Committee started to erode. <figure><img width="1050" height="735" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/637209699c7e80680e0b553ejpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>She then turned to the Central Bureau of Investigation and studied for the Civil Service Commission exam with the hopes of joining the police force and finding her father herself. But as the sole earner of the family paying for both her and Swastika’s studies, she wasn’t able to keep up and did not sit for the paper.“Over the years I have often questioned myself if he was still alive. More than 15 years have passed, it has been a painful wait,” says Nagma, who strengthened her resolve once again and demanded that the government disclose information on the disappeared persons regardless of their state.After the peace talks in 2006, the Maoists became part of the government. The country went from the war to peace but the families of the disappeared continued to wait. None of the agencies set up to investigate war crimes are working on the whereabouts of nearly 1,500 still missing. <figure><img width="1050" height="662" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101124/6372096c9c7e80680e0b553fjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“If we don’t fight, the disappeared will also be forgotten,” adds Nagma, who is now with the organisation Voices of Women Media and is also affiliated with the Conflict Victim Women National Network. “The truth is missing just like those who were made to disappear.” What worries Nagma most is the fate of children affected by the disappearances during the conflict and says the Maoist-led government has treated them unfairly. Children of those declared martyrs get free of cost education up to any level but for the children of the disappeared, it stops at 18 years of age. Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17395#.Ygs53e5Bz0s">The disappeared and disquiet of those left behind</a>, Robert Godden “Pushpa Kamal Dahal looked after only his people after his purpose was served. What about us, the children of the disappeared? When will the consequences of your action be addressed?” Nagma questions the top Maoist leadership. How long should one wait for the disappeared person to come back? A month? A year? A decade? For Nagma, the answer is as long as she lives. She says: “As long as there is a hope of my father’s return, my search will continue. I won’t ever give up.” Adapted from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/128303?fbclid=IwAR3c3furHehsMy3HMd7Yv8VVJ9Iuq_rCUTCYEW_0xNErEsmBc_e9Lb0DLv0">Nepali original</a> in <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/">himalkhabar.com</a>Read more:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/disappearance-of-justice/">Disappearance of Justice</a>, Sabrina Dangol<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-scars-of-war/">The scars of War</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Still looking for Dad missing in Nepal

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com

What Nepal’s VIP prisoners do in jail

If you were raised in Nepal, you must have picked up its unique set of vocabulary: आन्दोलन, चक्का जाम, बन्द, राँके जुलुस, आफ्नो मान्छे, हाम्रो दल, कर्फु and many more words connoting political protest.
We became familiar with the acrid smell of burning tyres, and eyes smarting from tear gas. And yet, everyone speaks of another revolution in the making. Not by desire, but by suffocation.
We heard speeches about नयाँ नेपाल, but the New Nepal never arrived. The governance system changed, but it did not reflect on people’s lives — except for those close to centres of power. The state is still unreachable and is not bothered about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/matter-of-life-and-debt">victims of loan sharks</a>, cooperative scams and other injustices.
Politicians continue to speak in sound bites, but fail to deliver. They have mastered the game of pointing fingers towards an external enemy and convincing people that they are never at fault. The political narrative is so disconnected from the actual analysis of the problem that suffocation doesn’t go away after every revolution.
No genuine effort has been made to deliver at all, which is why there is a palpable sense of disillusionment in the air forcing us to seek another revolution, even if Nepal may not be able to afford it.
How has the current system successfully held power, even if the public is deeply frustrated? How is it that for three decades we continue to be led by the same faces, who have time and again, proved to us that they may be great politicians but not national leaders?
<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/improving-internet-governance-in-nepal">My experience at the epicentre of politics</a> has led me to identify three cultures that have enabled political parties to keep a tight hold on power: acceptance, silence and dependency.
We accept things the way they are. We use fatalistic phrases like “नेपालमा यस्तै हो” or “नेपालको कानुन दैब जानुन”. While this resilience enables us to rise back up from devastating calamities, it is also a reason for our compliance with the status quo.
Despite so many ‘revolutions’ that have led to significant reforms, these phrases keep getting reinforced, to the point that the upcoming generations have made it their lingo.&nbsp;
This acceptance is not a symbol of law-abiding citizens, but citizens living in fear of those in power, unable to ask the whys and why-nots.
Innovation suffocates in this culture of acceptance of the status quo. This is manifested in remarks like “but we don’t have any laws for this,” or “we don’t have the capacity to implement this”. An innovator or entrepreneur therefore has to spend that energy to become a political lobbyist, often educating and convincing the bureaucracy.&nbsp;
Remember when locally assembled <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/designed-and-made-in-nepal">Yatri motorbikes</a>, despite having willing customers, had to suffer to secure license numbers because of a lack of regulations? Instead of creating new laws, the government kept chanting the “We will promote Nepal-made goods” mantra, leaving entrepreneurs in a labyrinth of bureaucracy. The weight of acceptance of the law lies heavily on innovators. Fatalism is a tactic used by those in power to generate mass fear in society.
When we accept, we become silent. This is a pervasive phenomenon. We are trained to keep quiet, lest we ruffle feathers, burn bridges, or not get the help we need in future. We know, yet we don’t speak.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bureaucratic-hurdles-in-researching-nepals-bureaucracy">Bureaucratic hurdles in researching Nepal's bureaucracy</a>, Daniel W Edwards
Here is one example: the 2021 census shows that the number of baby boys born for every 100 baby girls is 112. This is a clear indication of female foeticide because of boy preference in society.
Despite such horrifying realities, there is finger-pointing within the government between the Ministry of Health and Population with the Ministry of Home Affairs. At the citizen level, we know those who are involved in killing girls. Yet, we don’t speak up. The Nepal Medical Council reports state that despite this gender imbalance at birth, there is no indication of any action.
But why would anyone speak against one's own fraternity, no matter how vile the act is?
When we accept and keep quiet, we become dependent on those who yield power. From getting our government procedure completed on time to getting transfers, to accessing any of our legally protected rights as well, we are forced to depend on our networks of चिनेको मान्छे people we know by blood, village, relations, political affiliation.
The culture of dependency has been the established way in Nepal. If you drive a two-wheeler or four-wheeler, and you get into a small accident, you will be asked to sort it yourself, dialing up the most powerful person you know. It becomes a competition of who knows who.
Recently I was told that there were calls from the Ministry of Health and Population and another from the Prime Minister's Office for just one medical position in a private hospital. Each was pushing its own candidate. Guess which candidate got the position.&nbsp;
The dependency of people is not on the laws or the state, it is with people in power, a reliance on the network of somebody who knows somebody, including those not officially in power.
These cultures are deeply ingrained in our heads, and in society. Collectively they form a vicious circle that helps those in power to retain power. This is not the society we want to live in.
Then, what do we do as a collective to break away from this? How do we break away from the cultures of acceptance and silence that have created this dependency? What can we do to ensure that our children do not have to learn the jargon of आन्दोलन before they learn about the state?
These are the cultures political parties need to shed rather than use them to perpetuate their power. This is what <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/an-alternative-to-alternative-politics-in-nepal">alternative politics</a> needs to be about.
Sumana Shrestha is a member of Parliament’s Education, Health and Information Technology parliamentary committee and represents the Rastriya Swatantara Party.

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