<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbad9c7e80680e0a0b47jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photos: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>She towered over me like a lone poplar tree. She was four years older than I was at the time she came to live with us. Sita was the eldest of her siblings and her father had sent her to Kathmandu so she could contribute to the family income.Ten-year-old Sita’s job was to babysit for one of our relatives—two babies watching one another. When a bunch of grapes disappeared, the employers decided to dismiss the babysitter. Sita was just being a child picking and popping into her mouth something she liked the taste of, but she was supposed to be an ‘employee’ and expected to behave like an adult.Her father insisted that she stay in Kathmandu, and so the child remained, moving from one home to another, as employers tired of her antics. One of them had to yank her off the balcony railing, after which, she was sent to ours.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/welcome-to-suburbia/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Welcome to suburbia</a>, Pratibha TuladharWhen I asked my mother recently why she had accepted a child as helper, she said it was because she knew that she would be sent somewhere else if not to ours, and that she thought a house with two girls would be safer for her.Sita showed up one afternoon on the motorbike of her former employer at our home on the outskirts of Kathmandu. She was carrying a small bag of clothes. She was wearing a kurta with traces of lint—something I had seen my relative wear before, now altered to fit a 14-year-old.I had met Sita before when I had visited my relatives, a radiant face resting on tall, lean limbs. Her eyes were light brown and her hair the same colour, resting in an array of curls over her forehead and her temples. She did not look much different when she arrived at ours. And neither did she look nervous for someone coming to live in a new place.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/be-water/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">My mother</a> and Nini got busy after her arrival, making arrangements for a bedding of a single mattress, a pillow and a blanket. She would sleep in my room, on the floor. I couldn’t understand the arrangement, but I got used to it.She folded her bedding every morning, arranging it under my bookshelf which hung on the wall. If sometimes she saw me sitting on it with a book between my fingers, she would tell me to get off in fluent Newa: “Maicha! Ana makhu.”Sita made our home hers, quickly. She was expected to bring my sister and me to the bus stop everyday and help Mam run errands. But Mam complained that “the child” delayed her. Clearly, she also made her laugh.Mam, with wisps of gray sticking over her head would sit under a tree in the afternoons, smoking her beedi. On a hot day, she would fall asleep under the tree, and Sita would get to work, poking her ear with a leaf. Furious, Mam would clench her hand into a fist and threaten to hit Sita. “This girl has too much energy. Utauli, chakchaki!”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfbb09c7e80680e0a0b48jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="853">And as if to prove the point, Sita made sure to punctuate our days with events. One morning, as we waited for our school bus to arrive, Sita pointed at the pipal tree and said, “Nests!” And before we knew, she was climbing the tree.“Sita Didi!” we yelled from below, as she scrambled up like she knew the tree branch by branch. When we got into the school bus, I craned my neck to watch her from the window as the bus raced off with us inside. My heart pounding, I caught a glimpse of her stretching one arm to grab the nest.When we stepped off at the bus stand that afternoon, Mam was waiting for us. Sita had been grounded. Upon entering my room, I saw two weaver birds’ nests. One was over a foot long, the other one was smaller. Sita had nailed them to two corners of our room. I dumped my bag on the floor to touch them.“I saw you read about them in your sience book,” she beamed. My science book had a chapter on different kinds of bird nests, one of them had been the weaver bird’s nest.A couple of weeks later, Sita was allowed to go to the bus stand again. As we waited under the pipal tree, my sister wept. She hadn’t finished her homework. Sita pulled out her notebook and hurriedly wrote her homework for her. “There, your teacher won’t scold you now.” She whacked my sister’s head, “Badmass!”Coming home from school was also coming home to Sita’s radiant face. One time, she greeted us with bruises all over her limbs, spiky branches strewn over the front porch. She had climbed a thorny tree to gather firewood for Shivaratri, bringing down fresh branches that would not burn.When my mother exclaimed how terrified she had been that she might fall, Sita reminded her that she had “conquered” a pipal tree. I did not understand my mother’s patience with her.One afternoon, Sita locked herself in the kitchen for hours. When she unlocked the door, she had made aloo achar. She said it was her “especial” for us, the first time she had cooked. The potatoes were raw and I told her the achar was horrible. But my mother ate it, smiling as she did.When Sita turned 15, her father showed up. Mam found her hiding at the dhunge dhara by the hillside. It was time for her to go home. When we returned from school her bedclothes still sat under my bookshelf but the lightness of her presence was missing. It angered me that no one had told me she was leaving, but no one tells a child such things.Sita had been “<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/child-marriage-in-Nepal,3863" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">given away in marriage</a>” after she went back home, we heard. A decade later Sita visited my mother in our home in Maharajganj, when she brought a relative to the Teaching Hospital.“She leaned against the wall the entire time we talked. She was wearing a red cotton sari and had grown much taller and fuller. But she looked tired,” my mother recalls.We haven’t heard from her since, but my mother likes to punctuate our kitchen conversations with Sita anecdotes.Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

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Sita

One Friday night last month, we were swapping stories about Vipassana, a rigorous <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/practicing-mindfulness-in-schools?fbclid=IwAR2X1T9SNG1tWe61UPqMUgHjOWNZ4U1foJyURLJMrjYAsUdr4u_mz1rmC1U">meditation</a> technique of silent observation, over dinner. We spoke of its ten days of noble silence, of respiration, observation, and sensation.&nbsp; I told them about my first retreat in Lumbini last year when my mind kept getting distracted: ‘What is happening in the outside world? Is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-were-the-days-knea0341">K P Oli still prime minister</a>? When I emerged ten days later, he was still PM. During my second Vipassana in February this year, I reassured my mind that nothing dramatic could unfold in ten days. Still, my gut knew this country was always one headline away from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trial-by-fire">revolution</a>. By my third retreat, I was confident, even cocky.&nbsp; At that dinner, I joked: “What could possibly change? If Oli survived my first two meditation retreats, the world can hold steady for a third.” I should’ve known better. On 1 September, I was back at Shivapuri for the second time, my third retreat, with no expectations — only hope that ten days of noble silence would peel yet another layer from my mind.&nbsp; Vipassana is a paradox: brutally difficult, yet infinitely generous. It is the tool needed to tame and know your unconscious mind, and to know yourself even a little through it is a profound achievement. My room at Z House had the best view of the Kathmandu Valley. I developed a ritual: press my hands against my cheeks and stare down at the city. The city below looks chaotic, but somehow beautiful in its stubbornness, where pollution and pride coexist. From up there, it looked like no one was free, trapped in their egos, pettiness and misery.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1300" loading="lazy" alt="Vipassana during Nepal revolution"> <figcaption>Those undergoing Vipassana in Sundarijal had no idea of the chaos and mayhem the country was undergoing. Photos: AARSALA ADHIKARI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Then, softer thoughts of Metta and compassion would emerge. If only every single person could sit in silence and know their breath, just once. Blessed with ten days of Dhamma teachings on universal law, I imagined our 334 patriarchal parliamentarians and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/house-of-cards?%2F">Oli, Deuba, Prachanda trinity</a>. UNSEEN CHAOS On the seventh and the eighth days of Vipassana (8–9 September) there was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">black smoke rising from the Valley </a>below. Why were people burning all that garbage? There was no traffic on the straight road down from Budanilkantha. There were gunshots, and I assumed locals were shooting at marauding monkeys. I mistook the sound of helicopters at night for flights circling after takeoff.&nbsp; On the ninth day and in the morning of the tenth, it rained heavily. I tried to spot Dharara like I did every day, but the city was shrouded in a blanket of thick black smog. Even after two days of heavy rain, the smoke had not been washed down. This did not make sense, but my mind had returned to the safe harbour of my meditation. Nothing to see here. On the morning of 9/11, the tenth day, as we emerged from silence, the hall outside filled with chatter. Many people left, weeping, overwhelmed by the experience of the past ten days. We joked about our hardships and dreamt of delicious food, feeling a wave of accomplishment after a documentary about how Vipassana had transformed Tihar Jail in New Delhi.&nbsp; The hall radiated with inspiration and hope. Then, as the film ended an assistant teacher made an announcement: “There are serious protests going on in the Valley. K P Oli has resigned as prime minister. There are no cabinet ministers. The military has taken over, and a curfew has been imposed.”&nbsp; The news hit like a lightning bolt. Mental tranquility gave way to gasps of “What the f**k?” In the main Dhamma Hall, some women erupted in applause. We had spent ten days cultivating Metta, only to step out and realise the world had erupted into chaos. We huddled, trying to piece together fragments of what was happening. The Valley was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-turmoil-will-hit-tourism">still covered in black smoke</a>, the main road was still quiet. A neighbour turned up the radio, reporting deaths, destruction and curfew.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Meme doing the rounds on social media"> <figcaption>Meme doing the rounds on social media. </figcaption> </figure>  A first-time meditator, Shivani Karn, overheard a neighbour from wall cross telling his son that people had been shot and that he should not go to school any more. She had wanted to flee the Centre, but stayed on. Stranded foreigners from Argentina to China were bewildered and terrified. Volunteers debriefed us, recounting the shocking details: buildings burning, ministers’ houses ransacked, Oli fleeing, Deuba and his wife beaten up. The leaders were all in the Shivapuri barracks up the mountain. Over 15,000 inmates had broken out of prison. It was a catastrophe unfolding in real time. The city felt ripped out from a nightmare. In the common space, people complained about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">corruption and the ban on social media</a>. But an understanding emerged: both those in power and those who grant it are bound by the law of cause and effect. Driving down from Shivapuri on the morning of 12 September, my heart sank. The smog I had seen was smoke from still smouldering buildings. It was not garbage burning, but the rage of the people. Those were not people scaring away monkeys, but guns that killed innocent lives. The sound of aircraft were actually helicopters rescuing politicians.&nbsp; We drove past Singha Darbar, a charred ruin. Another Vipassana meditator, Anjali Baidya, shared a chilling memory. She recalled being 12 years old in 1973, watching from her home in Makhan Tole as Singha Durbar first caught fire. History had repeated itself 52 years later.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29" data-rendition-name="original" width="8064" height="6048" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Singha Darba, the seat of the government, set ablaze on 9th September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  One Bhatbhateni supermarket after another were scorched, police stations, government offices, once symbols of everyday life. There were soldiers everywhere, not police. &nbsp;Amidst the devastation, a deeper truth settled in. This, too, was Anicca — impermanence. Anicca teaches us that all things are constantly changing, including our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations. Political systems, power structures, national crises are all transitory. This understanding is crucial for healing. When we cling to the idea that a leader, political system or ourselves are permanent, we set ourselves up for disappointment and anger when it inevitably changes. The Dhamma teaches that responsibility is shared. The anger and fear on the streets are similar to feelings many carry inside. We Nepalis have intergenerational trauma. What I saw was not an abstraction: the gunshots and chaos echoed the terrifying nights of 1 February 2005 in Panauti, a grim replay of the fear I knew as a child at Malpi school, huddling with friends for safety.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">What next, Nepal?</a>, Shristi Karki Our national history is a series of ruptures that become personal landmarks. I was nine years old at my aunt’s birthday party on 1 June 2001, when the celebration was abruptly called off and we were sent home into the silent shock of a royal massacre.&nbsp; This pattern must be broken, and it starts now. The path to national healing must begin with individual healing. We can learn from the story of Angulimala, a violent figure who was transformed by the Buddha’s compassion. The Buddha walked steadily toward him and said, “I have stopped, Angulimala. You must stop too.” Angulimala realised the truth, renounced violence, and was enlightened. Cycles of anger and conflict can be softened and transformed. Nepal’s long-term well-being depends on our ability to approach the Dhamma as a pragmatic tool. Inner calm can help us process collective trauma. By cultivating forgiveness and compassion, we can create a stability that begins within. True healing begins when we stop externalising our pain or intellectualising our emotions, and start nurturing our own inner peace. As the dust settles, the true noise begins: the roar within. We are left with a stark choice: remain trapped in this endless loop of rage, or we can deliberately choose to stop. The Dhamma is not some philosophy for a meditation centre; it is the raw truth of our applied wisdom. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female prime minister</a>, may have emerged as a new ‘messiah’ but we must begin to take responsibility and accountability. Change cannot come from chaos, it is a conscious effort we must make precisely when it feels most impossible.&nbsp; The path forward is not through the streets, but inward — into the ruins of our own self-righteousness. The disparity and deep-seated grudges are the quiet kindling that have brought this new revolution. The rage on the streets is about suppressed dignity, and a burning hunger for justice.&nbsp; It is time to check the recesses of our minds and hearts, sit down, breathe, and to ask: “When do we stop running, and when do we start healing?”&nbsp; Alisha Sijapati is a writer specialising in cultural heritage, and a former Nepali Times correspondent.

Vipassana during a revolution

After prolonged negotiations over the weekend, Nepal’s new <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">Prime Minister Sushila Karki</a> on Monday appointed three members to her Council of Ministers, but the youth group that put her in power does not like her choice. The GenZ group that initiated the movement that toppled Nepal’s government accused Karki of not being consulted about the choice of Om Prakash Aryal, a lawyer who was helping with negotiating with the Army, as the Home and Law Minister.&nbsp; GenZ’s purported leader <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-or-what-is-hami-nepal">Sudan Gurung</a> led a group of his supporters and families of youth killed in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/raising-nepal-from-the-ashes">last week’s demonstration</a> at a midnight protest outside the prime minister’s residence, demanding Karki’s resignation unless she listened to them. Aryal is also a legal adviser to Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah, who has supported the GenZ movement but refused their offer to lead the interim government.&nbsp; The other two ministers include former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal as Finance Minister, and the popular former chief of the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) Kulman Ghising as the Energy Minister, Urban Development Minister, and Minister of Physical Infrastructure and Transport. They were sworn in on Monday. While Prime Minister Karki has said she wants competent and honest technocrats in the Council of Ministers, GenZ has been pushing for candidates that do not seem to meet her criteria — including a military officer and Mayor Balen Shah’s candidate.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091511090_f7db633bbf56c5e2a43b6cd248e522365f56cd34578d65cdeca243c65d807f6d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025091511090_f7db633bbf56c5e2a43b6cd248e522365f56cd34578d65cdeca243c65d807f6d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="new ministers being sworn in"> </figure>  Karki’s list is said to include retired Lt Gen Balananda Sharma, &nbsp;Magsaysay Award winner Mahabir Pun of the National Innovation Centre, former Education Minister Sumana Shrestha who quit RSP on Sunday and Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang. Karki met the government machinery on Sunday at her Singha Darbar office. Speaking without a prepared text, she admitted that there had been a “huge loss” not just to government buildings but also to official and court records during the 9 September arson attacks. “I am ashamed to say that there has been a systematic targeting of sensitive and essential government institutions, we will track down the perpetrators and investigate them,” she said. Karki also assured officials that she had no intention of staying on as prime minister beyond 5 March, the date she has set for early elections. She added: “The destruction by criminal elements has added to our challenges, but we have to choose but to unite and rebuild. This movement was about ending corruption, improving governance and equality. Help me achieve those goals.” <h2>KNOW YOUR MINISTERS</h2> Om Prakash Aryal Home Minister, Minister of Law  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915110916_6bbaa39c523979ea1a3e85bd496232fa0dcb6152718ede106078bb5f3d069c3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250915110916_6bbaa39c523979ea1a3e85bd496232fa0dcb6152718ede106078bb5f3d069c3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="955" loading="lazy" alt="Om Prakash Aryal"> <figcaption>Om Prakash Aryal</figcaption> </figure>  Back in 2016, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/do-gooders-to-watch-out-for,3435">Om Prakash Aryal</a> filed a writ petition against the appointment of all powerful Lokman Singh Karki to the Commission for the Investigation of Abuse of Authority (CIAA), paving way for the impeachment of the head of the anti-graft body together with Prime Minister Sushila Karki, who was then Chief Justice. An advocate at the Supreme Court, Aryal gained widespread fame for his work in Public Interest Litigation. Most recently, earlier this year he filed a petition against then Prime Minister K P Oli and Minister for Land Management Bala Ram Adhikari, among others, for their alleged role in the non-implementation of Supreme Court order in the Giribandhu tea estate land scam in eastern Nepal. Aryal came from Gulmi to Kathmandu to be a singer, but ended up pursuing a career in law instead. Aryal also served four years in the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), and was based in Geneva with the International Commission of Jurists (ICJ). Rameshore Khanal Finance Minister  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915110916_1655aeec3a17a048663b95c0dec3ab302300c51d61f6aed682b17fe5c1532c58.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250915110916_1655aeec3a17a048663b95c0dec3ab302300c51d61f6aed682b17fe5c1532c58" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="666" loading="lazy" alt="Finance Minister"> <figcaption>Rameshore Khanal</figcaption> </figure>  Former Finance Secretary Rameshore Khanal has over 30 years of experience in the civil service, and led reforms in government accounting and reporting, public procurements, tax policy and administration. He also served as Chair of the Board in Agricultural Development Bank and was Board Director in Nepal Rastra Bank, Rastriya Banijya Bank, Nepal Telecom Company, and Nepal Airlines. He also served as an economic adviser to Baburam Bhattarai when he was prime minister in 2013. In October last year, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-in-the-red">he led the government formed</a> the High Level Economic Reforms Recommendation Commission. The 440-page recommendation released last month included review of the fixed exchange rate with India and the provision for national political parties to receive grants so candidates did not have to depend on business donors at election time. He has announced that he is not going to take a salary, official residence, body guard or official car for himself. Kulman Ghising Energy, Water Resources and Irrigation Minister, Urban Development Minister, and Minister of Physical Infrastructure and Transport  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915110920_7704ba4dd27f06d423852bc9792610cc89acdbee6ff0b380904479c095d328ab.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250915110920_7704ba4dd27f06d423852bc9792610cc89acdbee6ff0b380904479c095d328ab" data-rendition-name="original" width="1057" height="769" loading="lazy" alt="Kulman Ghising"> <figcaption>Kulman Ghising</figcaption> </figure>  The man credited for ending 18-hour-a-day loadshedding in Nepal was also considered for the post of Prime Minister before Sushila Karki was chosen by the GenZ movement on Friday. Ghising is a two-time CEO of Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) before <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/sacking-of-nea-chief-exposes-cronyism">his tenure was cut short</a> by the Oli-led governing coalition earlier this year and replaced by Hitendra Dev Shakya. Ghising’s removal was seen as being politically motivated, and outraged the public and commentators. Many expected Ghising to open his own party ahead of the 2027 elections two years later, but is seen to be close to the Maoist-Centre party. After being appointed NEA chief in 2016, Ghising cut off the dedicated electricity feeds to industries, and redistributed the saved power to the public — ending long power cuts. But he also imported electricity from India to ensure 24-hour supply during the winter dry season to meet demand. Several new hydropower plants came into operation during his tenure, and today Nepal had an electricity surplus.&nbsp; OTHER APPOINTMENTS Elsewhere, Sabita Bhandari Baral has been appointed Nepal’s first female Attorney General.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250915110920_4d60704a1e69309fdfb49a195f538c32159f27748fd2be88693c609ddb98d380.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250915110920_4d60704a1e69309fdfb49a195f538c32159f27748fd2be88693c609ddb98d380" data-rendition-name="original" width="730" height="506" loading="lazy" alt="Female attorney general"> <figcaption>Sabita Bhandari Baral</figcaption> </figure>  By Sunday, total casualties of the nationwide GenZ protests has reached 72. Prime Minister Karki has declared that bereaved families of those killed in the protests will be compensated while hundreds of those still receiving treatment in hospitals will be treated for free. &nbsp;

Nepal interim government faces first hiccups

While protesters were torching the Special Government Attorney Office at Mandala on Tuesday, they shouted slogans <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">denouncing government corruption</a>. They did not seem to know that in reality the Government Attorney’s office was carrying out active investigations and prosecuting multiple cases of government corruption. Their case files have now been reduced to ashes. While attackers ransacked the building room by room and and burnt it down, they said they were protesting the government’s inability to catch the person who raped and murdered of 13-year-old <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/justice-delayed-and-denied">Nirmala Panta </a>in Kanchanpur seven years ago.&nbsp; In reality, the District Government Attorney’s Office has been carrying out and directing<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/justice-eludes-many-rape-survivors"> investigations against rapists and abusers</a> whose victims were even younger than Nirmala. As an ordinary Nepali citizen before joining the Government Attorney’s Office, I had read about &nbsp;Nirmala’s story in the media. It was a major case that shook the nation, and the biggest rape case I had heard about.&nbsp; But once I was behind my desk as a Government Attorney myself, not a day went by when there was at least one new rape investigation file. This was a serial horror on a nationwide scale. The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/incest-sex-abuse,2547">rapists were not faceless strangers</a>: many were fathers, brothers, stepfathers, teachers, drivers who knew the survivors. I found all age groups from all parts of Nepal on those charge sheets. And every file I carried to the courtroom was in the hope of at least someone who wanted the crime against them recognised and the perpetrator punished. Now, all those files are gone. The news from Singha Darbar that the government’s data centre was saved from arsonists this week was a relief. But we lost all our records. The evidence was never digitised, there were no backup files. They lived only on paper, in ink, in fragile white file folders with green strings.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914120920_353c6e03fa2f4cea8992c5c02ede101b4ad9ccc102f5af8407f333f518ef7200.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250914120920_353c6e03fa2f4cea8992c5c02ede101b4ad9ccc102f5af8407f333f518ef7200" data-rendition-name="original" width="5000" height="3333" loading="lazy" alt="The day justice died"> <figcaption>Photo: HEMANTA SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>  When the building burned, so did the only record of those crimes and the identity of the criminals.&nbsp; Imagine entire basements filled with such files: each representing a victim, a face, a life. More than 10,000 such cases are now smouldering heaps of ash. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">Kathmandu burns despite PM resignation</a> Singha Durbar can be rebuilt brick by brick, just as it was after the earthquake. Who is going to rebuild these case files?&nbsp; The social media is cruel: it shows homes of politicians stashed with cash and charred dollar bills. But the media did not show an entire building full of criminal case files going up in flames. The smoke that filled Kathmandu’s sky on Tuesday carried away with it the hopes of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-chance-on-transitional-justice"> justice of thousands of victims</a>, mostly young women. Our duty as Government Attorneys is to direct criminal investigations, prosecute criminal cases, plead in courtrooms, make appeals. On a normal busy day we prosecute at least five criminal cases involving survivors and perpetrators. THAT DAY On <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">8 September</a>, when the GenZ protesters were gathering at the Mandala outside, we were at the Police Club, attending the first ever Women Government Attorneys’ Conference. We wore our brightest blue sari uniforms and pressed blouses. Our heads held high, we celebrated our success as government attorneys who had led the prosecution of the highest number of cases involving <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/not-just-16-days-against-gender-based-violence">violence against women</a>. But the day had other plans for us. By 4 pm the program was halted after protesters were shot outside Parliament. The Attorney General directed us to go home immediately. As the hall emptied, a small group of us young women officers and one senior female advocate walked together through Bhadrakali towards our office. There was an angry mob approaching us. The moment they saw us in our official dress, they turned on us with verbal abuses — words so horrendous that it would have been enough to prosecute a slander suit.&nbsp; Heads and eyes lowered we walked on. They started spitting on us. Obviously, they were pouring out their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/genz-and-aragalaya?amp=1">anger against the government</a> on us civil servants. But they had no idea that the senior female advocate on whose coat they spat had pioneered the law granting Nepali women equal property rights. To us, she was not just a lawyer, she was a hero and a figure we had worshipped in our law books. Her name appears across Supreme Court documents for setting a precedent.&nbsp; We ran to save ourselves from their wrath and reached our Special Government Attorney Office. The mob stayed outside. We waited two hours in silence, praying fervently until the street was calm enough for us to slip away and find our way home. The next day, 9 September, was much worse. The protesters had already torched Parliament, Singha Durbar and the nearby Supreme Court. Then they came to set the Government Attorney Office alight. As a Nepali, I can understand the anger. But as a Government Attorney, I carry a deep scar. There is an immense void and sorrow. This is not about the loss of a building, or being spat at. It is about the silent victims whose stories were stored in all those thousands of files. Many of the survivors do not even know that their <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/hunger-for-justice">struggle for justice</a> has ended.&nbsp; We are government employees never affiliated with any political party, doing our work honestly and independently. In the name of demanding justice, they destroyed the very place that delivered it. Mamata Shrestha is an Assistant District Government Attorney.

The day justice died

Nepal is gradually returning to normal after curfews were officially lifted on Saturday following Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s appointment as temporary executive head following this week’s violent unrest that toppled the government.&nbsp;
Karki dissolved Parliament on Friday night immediately after she was sworn-in as per the demand of youth activists who staged the nation-wide anti-corruption demonstrations this week. The date of the election has been set for 5 March 2026.
Karki made the rounds of Kathmandu’s hospitals to meet with demonstrators who were injured during the protests on 8 and 9 September in which 52 people were killed. Karki is also drawing up a list of candidates to join the Council of Ministers to be announced on Sunday.&nbsp;
Meanwhile, the four main political parties in Parliament and their leaders have been self-reflecting, admitting their mistakes and expressing the need for reform and internal democracy.&nbsp;
But they have also issued near-unanimous denouncements of the decision by the interim government to dissolve Parliament, calling for the Lower House to be restored immediately.
‘The government formed from the streets in an undemocratic and unconstitutional manner bypassing Parliament is contrary to the spirit of the movement that has demanded good governance in accordance with Nepal’s Constitution prevailing laws,’ read a joint press statement issued by eight political parties on Saturday.
The leaders of the UML, including Prime Minister K P Oli who resigned on Tuesday, the Maoists and the Nepali Congress are still in the Shivapuri National Park military base, and appear to be incommunicado.
The parties continued: ‘We strongly demand the immediate convening of Parliament to create an environment where the demands of the people and agitating groups can be addressed through an elected institution.’
The Nepal Bar Council, the country’s legal body, joined the political parties in calling the dissolution of Parliament unconstitutional. Legal experts had expressed concern about the constitutional processes to ensure PM Karki’s appointment as executive head in the lead-up to her taking office.
‘Nepal’s Constitution is the result of a broad national consensus and reflects the aspirations of its citizens,’ the Bar’s press statement read. ‘Such acts erode public trust in democratic institutions and threaten the very foundation of our constitutional system.’
The President’s move to dissolve the House of Representatives is also contrary to the Supreme Court’s previous decision on the restoration of parliament, the Bar’s stated, referring to the top court’s verdict after former PM Oli dismissed Parliament in 2021.&nbsp;
The Federation of Nepalese Journalists echoed similar sentiments in its own statement on Saturday which read, ‘The Federation believes that the unconstitutional appointment of the Prime Minister against the Constitution and the dissolution of the House of Representatives, which is contrary to the previous precedent set by the Supreme Court, show ill will towards democracy.’&nbsp;
Meanwhile, the GenZ youth who had voted in favour of Karki to lead the transitional government welcomed the dissolution of Parliament, and continue to demand that the interim government investigate the shooting of demonstrators this week. They also want mechanisms to ensure accountability and zero-tolerance against corruption.
‘We call for an open, sustained, and participatory national dialogue with the Interim Government and all political actors, one that ensures the meaningful presence of indigenous youth and structurally marginalised communities whose voices are not only heard, respected, and embedded but are also actively consulted in the shaping of the policies, institutions, and decisions that will define Nepal’s democratic future envisioned by us,’ read a statement issued by the Indigenous GenZ collective on Saturday.&nbsp;
Across the country, authorities have also begun to launch investigations into the vandalism and looting during the protests, urging citizens to return stolen goods. A former lawmaker from the Nepali Congress, which was a part of the coalition with the UML has filed a complaint against Oli alleging that he personally issued the order to security forces to fire at protestors on 8 September.

child-bride

Sita

Vipassana during a revolution

Nepal interim government faces first hiccups

The day justice died

Nepal’s new normal