At 11:56AM on 25 April 2015, the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/rebuilding-new-structures-using-old-traditions,2827">ancient Newa town of Bungamati </a>on the southern fringes of Kathmandu Valley suffered more damage than most-- it was completely razed.&nbsp; Some 700 buildings collapsed and at least seven people were killed. The iconic Bungadyo temple dedicated to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-red-god-rises-again-in-patan">the rain god Machindranath</a> collapsed in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/11-56-25-april-2015-wkc9q2an">7.8 magnitude quake</a>. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ten years later, Bungamati was rebuilt. But the original architecture of two-storey houses with tilted tile roofs have been replaced with modern concrete boxes, their façades still gleaming with fresh paint.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409040432_d7083d8b65119dd1f989c17eaab1f837a067e14d4a55a22fb67d4cbb2ceff138.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250409040432_d7083d8b65119dd1f989c17eaab1f837a067e14d4a55a22fb67d4cbb2ceff138" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>All photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  The Bungadyo complex at the heart of the town, however, is being restored to its original grandeur as it prepares for this year’s <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/delayed-machindranath-festival-resumes">Machindranath chariot festival.</a> For many residents here, the horror of that day is still fresh in their minds. They remember narrow escapes, losing loved ones and the numerous <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/after-the-aftershocks-the-survivors,3006">aftershocks</a>. The survivors took refuge in tents and had just started drifting back to their damaged homes when the 7 May aftershock hit. “We got exactly one tent,” says a local Kamala Tuladhar, 40, of the earthquake rescue and relief, recalling the financial strain of rebuilding. “We rebuilt everything by ourselves, that money could have gone to our children’s education.” Some families in Bungamati received financial aid of up to Rs50,000 for reconstruction but most families here say that they never got any help and rebuilt on their own. Jogmaya Maharjan, 52, received only Rs20,000 from the Red Cross despite<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/broken-promises-reconstruction,3627"> government promises of reconstruction grants</a>, and had to sell a plot of land to build a new house. “Everything is new now, which is good for progress, but it doesn’t feel the same,” she says, adding that she misses the cosy warmth of her old mud-mortar house.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409060416_3f2810530af9c5f1bbfd2e113485444e0ff1771e6f4cac04c089e2e46de92345.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250409060416_3f2810530af9c5f1bbfd2e113485444e0ff1771e6f4cac04c089e2e46de92345" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Kamala Tuladhar"> <figcaption>Kamala Tuladhar</figcaption> </figure>  Kamala currently runs a small eatery in the town and says almost everyone now has <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-concrete-future,2251">concrete houses</a>, as well as increased awareness about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/be-prepared">earthquake safety</a>. “We have a concrete house now, it is stronger but we lost our ancestral building,” she adds. Ratnaman Maharjan’s five-storey Bungamati Homestay offering a panoramic view of the Valley to the north is a popular lodging destination for tourists looking to stay over the weekend.&nbsp; “Without the earthquake, Bungamati would have remained a sleepy town that few people visited,” he says. “The earthquake was a tragedy, but it forced a much-needed change.” Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khokana-and-bungamati-strive-to-save-heritage">Khokana and Bungamati strive to save heritage</a>, Prabhas Pokharel Bungamati has always embodied a quintessential Newa ambience of the kind that had steadily disappeared from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/preserving-patan-post-earthquake">Patan</a> or Kathmandu. It is a compact and densely-packed town sitting on higher ground with vegetable and paddy terraces below.&nbsp; This <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1885">unique urban-rural symbiosis</a> was the hallmark of the Kathmandu Valley culturescape. Despite its proximity to Kathmandu, Bungamati was essentially a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/migrants-return-home-to-do-commercial-farming,3929">traditional farming village</a> — but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/rebuilding-kathmandu-after-the-1934-quake">after the earthquake </a>it has transitioned into a modern suburb.&nbsp; The rebuilding of the Machindranath temple has been a rather long and arduous journey, and is only now nearing completion. Unlike in Kathmandu, Patan and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/bhaktapur-2-0-d8m66qhb">Bhaktapur</a>, there were no aid agencies to help rebuild the temples here. The local chair of the reconstruction committee also died by suicide, further delaying the process.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040904048_7adb77af2fad4d4f9b389649c20a945e5d2534fea02dc03c7a4c02a3d3f7791e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="2025040904048_7adb77af2fad4d4f9b389649c20a945e5d2534fea02dc03c7a4c02a3d3f7791e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>Amir Shakya</figcaption> </figure>  “In the immediate aftermath, it was all about survival, so gods and religion were the last thing on our minds,” recalls Amir Shakya, chair of the rebuilding committee for Rato Machindranath. But as the dust settled after the earthquake, it became clear that unless the community took charge, the temple would never be built. The National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) formed a rebuilding committee, officially putting efforts in motion. Restoring the temple was no easy feat, particularly during <a href="about:blank">the Covid-19 pandemic</a>. Even transporting construction material was a logistical nightmare while prices skyrocketed. The community had to arrange for highly specific materials and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-portal-into-patan-s-past-and-present?%27%22=">intricate craftsmanship</a>, both of which were not readily available in the market.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409040444_925c58caffe447f392818e75de7851c17d47db1461447bc2ccc7c18016c89de8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_19" data-image-id="20250409040444_925c58caffe447f392818e75de7851c17d47db1461447bc2ccc7c18016c89de8" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250409030456_163d1aeabf3918541f9196b91a0c85cf3a97ed0bb7c8015295543234b8c85e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_20" data-image-id="20250409030456_163d1aeabf3918541f9196b91a0c85cf3a97ed0bb7c8015295543234b8c85e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="563" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> </figure>  “Rebuilding had to be meticulous and precise to truly preserve the cultural essence of the old Machindranath temple,” adds Shakya. “We lost more than just structures, we lost the very heartbeat of our heritage. Even now, it feels like we are still struggling to recover, and despite the reconstruction, something is still missing.” Ward chair Sagar Tuladhar says that the situation remained dire until the 2017 local elections, when the elected municipal council finally stepped in. The European Union provided help for mapping and technical support. "Before the earthquake, most families lived in ancestral homes—structures built using raw bricks and mud. In hindsight, we realise this was a major reason why so many of them collapsed,” says Tuladhar.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025040904048_5eb476e0f3a722ae7c114e7d9f7a96abba44a85a8503cfe2dd7a993866280a6b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_21" data-image-id="2025040904048_5eb476e0f3a722ae7c114e7d9f7a96abba44a85a8503cfe2dd7a993866280a6b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="Bungamati builds back"> <figcaption>Sagar Tuladhar</figcaption> </figure>  But today, while houses are stronger and more reliable, the challenge of balancing structural resilience with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dapcha-s-old-world-charm-awaits?fbclid=IwAR0EtIozNL7a0xiKnQSpHSxsoCACXltEUQj1xd2Fo7dRLUiqPMKt4c029ik_aem_AYAPWpOme51Fm9ZIGgneMuZKanrc3Y1IwEfpKmg7oxGwFoxjp0So1_xDNzkuA1acRYc">the preservation of traditional settlements</a> remains. There is also a danger of substandard concrete buildings which will not be able to withstand<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lessons-not-learned-from-2015-o2etq6zu"> stronger earthquakes in the future</a>, becoming death traps. In response, regulations have been introduced to prevent haphazard building as well as to safeguard <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-history-of-heritage">cultural integrity</a>. &nbsp;The cultural resettlement map design was approved after the earthquake, and requires the maximum height of buildings to be no more than 35m.&nbsp; “Many resist restrictions on the number of floors and construction materials,” admits ward chair Tuladhar. “Despite <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16161">modern housing trends</a>, we have also made every effort to uphold the distinct Newa architectural identity. Residents are not allowed to install shutters, use iron reinforcements, or plaster over traditional façades.” He adds that nearly all the homes and heritage structures have now been rebuilt, with only a few remaining to be completed in the next two years. Concrete structures stand where mud-brick homes once did, yet the soul of Bungamati endures in its traditions and its people as it prepares for next month’s Machindranath festival. &nbsp;

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Bungamati builds back

Earthquakes wreck lives, and destroy towns. And when they are rebuilt, nothing is the same again.Five years after the ancient Newa towns of Khokana and Bungamati were nearly razed to the ground in the 2015 earthquake, amidst new concrete pillars are still piles of bricks of collapsed buildings.Because most of the temples and homes collapsed and reinforced concrete buildings survived, there is a belief in Kathmandu Valley that cement is stronger and will withstand the next quake. Khokana and Bungamati wards tried to protect the urban ambience of the town by issuing guidelines about how even homes rebuilt with concrete beams should have brick facades, tile roofs and reflect traditional design elements.Alas, these guidelines have rarely been followed. The gradual destruction of the traditional silhouettes of Kathmandu Valley began long before the earthquake, but the disaster hastened the process. Pressure of urbanisation, the demand for rental rooms, and a quest for safety have forced families to build box-like concrete high rises.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8daf9c7e80680e06b35fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="252" height="128"/><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db09c7e80680e06b360jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2592" height="1456"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ironically, the town that protested the alignment of the Kathmandu-Tarai expressway construction because it destroyed the town’s heritage, has not been able to preserve the traditional architecture that gave Bungamati its uniqueness.“The rebuilding guidelines say houses should be made in traditional style with sloped tile roof and should not be more than 10 metres high,” explained Krishna Gopal Maharjan, junior engineer at Bungmati’s ward office. “If a house is made without following the guidelines we do not issue the construction completion certificate. But the rule has been flouted.”There is pressure from local families to rebuild damaged or destroyed homes in any way they see fit, since it is their property. “People have ignored the ward’s guideline because they think it is impractical, they believe a three-story house cannot accommodate the whole family hence they tend to build a four-story or even a five-story house,” explains Jay Krishna Maharjan, 35.The most contentious issue seems to be the height limitation. In both Khokana and Bungamati, a majority of the homes that have been rebuilt has traditional brick facades, but they say limiting homes to two floors is unrealistic.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db39c7e80680e06b361jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="480"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8db69c7e80680e06b362jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2592" height="1728"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“At first they were even unwilling to use bricks in outside walls, but at least they agreed to that,” says Chandra Shobha Dangol, social mobiliser at Khokana’s ward office who admits that the height limit has been difficult to enforce.To be sure, a house with traditional design is costlier to build than a cement house, and this is why many of the families have not even started rebuilding even five years after the earthquake.The house of 77-year-old Asta Maya Maharjan was completely destroyed by the earthquake, and she has been living in her relative’s house for the past five years. She says: “Those who have money build houses, we do not have enough money to build a house, let alone a house in the traditional style.”The government’s Rs300,000 grant does not pay for even a room, and this is why rubble from the earthquake five years ago still lies strewn across both towns. Those who can afford it, have built gleaming 5-6 storey buildings that dwarf nearby shrines. “People who have money are building homes, people without money cannot build them. It is just the way it is,” says Gyan Bahadur Maharjan, 81, in a tone of resignation as he basked in the sun in front of his family’s new house.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dba9c7e80680e06b363jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2664" height="2000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Ashakaji Shakya, 64, whose house in Bungmati was damaged in 2015 agrees that the guidelines are too rigid, and although he admits that saving the culture is important, a safe shelter is even more important. Indeed, it seems the older generation of these twin towns have made peace with the fact that the towns of their childhood can never be brought back.Shakya asks: “Say I have a family of five sons, each son would need at least one flat for himself, and on top of that if there is an old mother the house goes up to six floors. How can one accommodate such family in a three-storey house?”Bungamati also lost its most important temple, the shrine of Rato Machindranath from where the god of rain is transported in a chariot every year through the streets of Patan. Once in 12 years the chariot is taken from Bungamati itself, an event that draws devotees from all over the Valley.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dbd9c7e80680e06b364jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5184" height="2912"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This year, the chariot festival has been scaled down to just worshipping at the shrine. Restoration of the temple was given to a construction company with the financial support from the Sri Lankan government. But after delays, the contract was dismissed by the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA) which then handed over the project to a local committee.Jit Bahadur Maharjan, 74, of Khokana remembers growing up as a little boy. Things were simpler then, he says, houses had thatch roofs, there was always the smell of mustard from the town famous for its oil presses. He says: “The word ‘culture’ exists, but no one knows what it means anymore. We are trying to save our culture, but if you look around, there is nothing left to save.”Indeed, the transformation of the architectural grammar of a town seems to change everything: its festivals, its traditional trade, craftsmanship, and the lifestyle of the inhabitants.Says Suresh Suras Shrestha at Department of Archaeology: “When the look of the houses along a street changes, a town loses its identity. Khokana no longer remains Khokana,”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dc19c7e80680e06b365jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="5328" height="4000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109121120/636b8dc59c7e80680e06b366jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="6000" height="3368"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h2 style="font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: 0.15px;">Mixing old with new</h2>Jaa Dangol’s ancestral home was destroyed by the 2015 earthquake, he decided to build back better. He wanted not just a home, but a source of income as well.At a time when his neighbours were moving away from traditional occupations and homes after the earthquake, Dangol saw an opportunity in going back to Newa cuisine, craftsmanship and restore his building into a traditional homestay that would give visitors an authentic experience.Indeed, until the coronavirus lockdown destroyed business, Dangol was providing tourists with local food in a traditional ambience in his restaurant called ‘Laachi’, which means a place for local foods and products. “I reused 70% of the traditional materials from the house that brought down by the earthquake,” says Dangol, who says that if others in Khokana were to follow the same model they would not just augment family income, but also protect the town’s heritage.Indeed, despite the destruction and the changes of the past five years, Khokana still retains its old world charm with a pervasive smell of the mustard oil presses, women spinning cotton and weaving carpets in sidewalk shops.

Khokana and Bungamati strive to save heritage

Know your Ministers

‘One early morning, we heard the ambassador’s wife cry out, “Ram, Ram, Ram!” A disaster has befallen Nepal!” She had heard on the radio that a fire had consumed Singha Durbar." This is not about the arson attack on 9 September 2025, but the one on 8 July, 1973. It started in the South Wing of the then single-largest building in all of Nepal. It took two days to bring the blaze under control, requiring the use of explosives to demolish one wing to protect the imposing western facade. As Bhekh Bahadur Thapa recalls in the English translation of his memoir A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy, he was then on leave from the Nepal government serving with the IDRC in Ottawa.&nbsp; He had already served as Nepal’s Finance Secretary at age 25, went on to be Finance Minister and Governor of Nepal Rastra Bank. He was already younger than some of the GenZ ministers in Nepal’s present RSP government. Thapa, now 89, was at the launch of the book in February which was attended by former diplomats and bureaucrats. After speeches by panelists, there was a question from the audience about how Thapa had managed to be the diplomat he was, managing Nepal’s international relations on the world stage.&nbsp; Writer and journalist Akhilesh Upadhyay, who was moderating the panel, responded by going into the section of the book where we see Thapa as an ambassador to the US, playing tennis with White House officials, cultivating a network of contacts to project the identity and welfare of Nepal, and making it possible for a state visit by King Birendra to Ronald Reagan’s America. The book is full of anecdotes that suggest Thapa was a clever and strategic diplomat, always calm and unruffled, easily making friends in high places with his maturity and engaging sense of humour. Thapa’s memoir is heavy on details about Nepal’s administrative history during the years he was active in public service, serving as minister and ambassador under three kings: Mahendra, Birendra and Gyanendra, and alongside five prime ministers.&nbsp; Aside from an insider look on how certain treaties, development deals and research projects in Nepal came into fruition, Thapa goes into great detail about his personal and professional relationships with the kings, ministers, ambassadors, foreign leaders and politicians.&nbsp; As a reader, one is struck by the level of detail around the events that unfolded in Nepal over the years during Thapa’s tenure. Was Thapa recording a journal over the years of the events and the conversations that transpired, or were they committed to his phenomenal memory? Either way, the reader gets a glimpse of Nepal’s recent history from the early days of the Panchayat, through the People’s Movement and the democracy period, the Maoist insurgency, Royal Palace massacre of 2001, and Gyanendra’s coup of 2005.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041204048_125dc8ae300a1e33124f394abe724d42727f83e067b0201d2008b58d60c459a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1584" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How to win friends and influence nations NT"> </figure>  Not enough is said about the political parties of the time whose presence led to the way Nepal’s multiparty democracy came to be shaped. The book keeps its focus on the administration and the key figures around it, mostly those in the Panchayat era. Towards the second half of the book, we do start to hear about political parties, but not in great depth. Another figure whose presence in the book is conspicuously less prominent is that of his wife, Rita Thapa — the person who seems to have rescued him every time financial quandary or family care became a challenge. Yet, we do not see her as a full person. Perhaps because of the personal tragedies in his life, the children are also barely mentioned.&nbsp; The book is therefore less personal and more technical. Throughout, we learn about Thapa’s thinking as he navigated the world of diplomacy to win him the trust of those who mattered. There are tips here for a new generation of Nepali officials and diplomats about how much commitment and focus is needed to be good at one’s job and serve the national interest. This book adds to tomes that have been written on Nepal’s fragile relationship with India. ‘India has always wished for Nepal to remain dependent on it,’ writes Thapa, who served as Nepal’s ambassador to India and later in the Eminent Persons Group &nbsp;on Indo-Nepal relations that has been allowed to languish. The book has several insights into the Indo-Nepal trysts with diplomacy and agency.&nbsp; China’s role is also recorded, viewed through conversations during a visit to Beijing, but all that was before Nepal’s neighbour to the north emerged as a world economic and military power. The book also has such sudden instances of quirkiness and humour. For instance, we see a young Thapa in America explaining to a government official why he would like to return to Nepal instead of settling down in the US. “Because, Nepal is beautiful,” he said. The text is immaculate and does not read much like a translation, credit for which clearly goes to the team that put the edition together: translator Prawin Adhikari, &nbsp;Anagha Neelakanthan and Bhekh Thapa’s daughter, Manjushree. As Nepal enters a new era of governance and diplomacy, A Life in Public Service: Nepal from Autocracy to Democracy should be essential reading for students of political science, economics and foreign affairs who can gain a fresh perspective on the country’s trajectory.&nbsp; There are dozens of forgotten state secrets recorded in the book, but the reader must also remember this is a story told from one person’s perspective and there may be others.&nbsp; So, what really made Thapa the diplomat he was? I met him in 2004 at the Kantipur TV studio when he was serving as king Gyanendra’s foreign minister. He was there for a studio interview, and I was just done with my English newscast.&nbsp; He surprised me at the door: “Pratibha! I’ve been reading your articles in The Kathmandu Post. You must keep writing.” I thanked him, glad to have been noticed for my work by a stranger. That was perhaps one of the things that set Thapa apart — he excelled at staying close to those in power, while also noticing those who were not.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260412040412_213e706136a038ec9f5e2b8c6d7f7c1e9ceed9479e22fe2884872ad7bd20955f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

How to win friends and influence nations

In a classic arc of political sociology, a revolutionary figure takes several decades to complete their cycle: mobilisation, institutionalisation, and finally governance. 
However, the timeline of this trajectory has been telescoped in the case of Home Minister Sudan Gurung, who in 2025 described himself as a social activist and volunteer, has gone from the barricades of the GenZ protests to the mahogany desk of the Ministry of Home Affairs.
Gurung is a personal pick of Prime Minister Balendra Shah, and played a pivotal role in getting him to join the RSP by mediating with Rabi Lamichhane. His journey serves as a real test bed for the ‘Outsider-to-Insider Transition’, raising a fundamental question about someone who now leads the very apparatus that he once fought against: the police, intelligence service, and the bureaucracy.
Social capital can indeed be built during a crisis exacerbated by state failure, and that is where we first see Sudan Gurung — expediting relief delayed by systemic corruption and red tape. Gurung’s delivery aid through a social-media-driven volunteer network bypassed the government. 
Whether or not he really rushed a dying child to hospital after the 2015 earthquake does not matter, it has become an urban legend. 
His work evolved into the non-profit Hami Nepal in 2020, serving as a ‘parallel state’ mechanism that would later become central to his public identity. Later, his group sprang into action during the Covid crisis, organising oxygen cylinders and beds . He was there after flood disasters in Manang and Sidhupalchok, and even organised Rs15m worth of aid to Turkey after the 2023 earthquake. 
Moral Legitimacy became his primary source of power, and he strategically positioned himself as an alternative emergency response system. But the real rupture happened on 8 September 2025 when years of frustration, corruption scandals, lack of transparency and state accountability culminated in a rally that the next day descended into anarchy. 
There was no single leader. The movement was fully decentralised, but as elsewhere such upheavals produces a recognisable face. Among them was Sudan Gurung. Who despite being a millennial himself, became the most visible interlocutor of the GenZ movement. 
He negotiated with the state’s key actors, including the president and the Chief of Army staff, during the period of uncertainty When the country was on the brink. This led to the dissolution of parliament and the formation of the interim government under Sushila Karki, paving the way for the election on 5 March.
Since then, Sudan Gurung’s role has become contradictory. Within days of touching Prime Minister Karki’s feet after her swearing in, he was at the gates of Baluwatar spearheading midnight demonstrations calling for her resignation. He accused her and Home Minister Om Prakash Aryal of not consulting the youth over Cabinet appointments and not arresting the previous government officials.
This oscillation became a hallmark of Gurung’s own version of the ‘Radical Flank Effect’ — erratic behaviour to force the establishment to make concessions. 
On 18 January Gurung formally joined the RSP, and started campaigning from his home constituency of Gorkha-1. He won decisively and was appointed home minister by Balendra Shah. The transition was complete. 
As minister his role spans core security areas: overseeing internal security through the Nepal Police, Armed Police Force and the intelligence bureau. The man who took part in anti-government rallies is now in charge of the riot police that aresupposed control anti-government protests.
His portfolio also handles state administration matters such as citizenship, immigration, and border security, coordinates with the judicial system on prisons, detention, and policies related to punishment and clemency. For example will be overseeing the fraud case against his own party’s chair, Lamichhane.
In his book Power in Movement, political scientist Sidney Tarrow observes that social movement leaders encounter ‘institutional capture’ upon entering government. In a sociological paradox, the man who previously denounced the police for killing youth protesters is now the person who issues directives to those same forces.
Preventive detention, surveillance, and the control of public festivals are the same instruments that the former old guard employed to stifle his movement. The activist who demanded transparency at the B P Koirala Institute now manages the state’s most secretive security apparatus.
In this arc, Gurung is not alone, there are parallels around the world for leaders emerging from the ashes of revolt. It is not so much a prediction, but for Gurung the challenge is even more acute because youth expectations are so high.
The bar for performance has been raised by citizens demanding change and quicker, more efficient service delivery. He is under constant public scrutiny, which is why he has to take YouTubers every time he goes on inspections of the airport, the BP Highway, police stations, picking trash on the sidewalks or meeting the Swiss ambassador to ask about repatriating the ill-gotten wealth of politicians.
Sudan Gurung is facing intense public glare. There have been calls to reveal the truth behind Hami Nepal’s finances, the alleged links to Free Tibet, and lately not paying five years of rent for an illegal lakefront property in Pokhara. 
As minister, he will find that moral legitimacy alone is no longer sufficient, it must be reinforced by transparent and consistent institutional accountability. Sudan Gurung’s ascent is evidence that the public mostly trusts ‘outsiders’ during times of crisis. However, history also cautions us that the state only permits ‘insiders’ to operate. 
Gurung will have to organise systemic reform to inject the transparency of his volunteer days to the Home Ministry’s traditionally secretive disbursements. If he fails, he runs the risk of validating Michels’ Iron Law of Oligarchy, which would serve as a warning about how revolutionary energy is dissipated by the very structures it was intended to overthrow.
Nepal is watching the man who said he once held a dying child in his arms after an earthquake. The volunteer has become the Warden.
Nischal Raj Gautam is a student of Media Studies and Mass Communication at St. Xavier's College, Maitighar. He is a member of the EU Delegation's Youth Sounding Board (YSB), and a journalist for TheirWorld's The Education Issue 2026.

He said no to politics. Now he runs it.

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

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