The Golden Gate in Bhaktapur Darbar Square is dedicated to Taleju, the ancestral goddess of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/nation-bhaktapur,597">Malla kings</a>. The temple was built 271 years ago during the reign of Ranjit Malla, and serves as the entryway to the inner courtyard of the palace. The frame of the gilded copper pagoda-style gateway carries intricately carved deities that glint in the sunlight as thousands of visitors run their hands through the structure on their way into the World Heritage Site.&nbsp; Among them are the much-revered statues of goddess Bhagwati on the right and Bhairab on the left of the gate. But where their foreheads should be are two gaping holes, corroded by abrasion and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/un-holi-colours">chemical dyes</a> devotees have smeared on the statues over the centuries.&nbsp; Whereas previously, most offerings were vegetable-based dyes, these are being replaced with brightly coloured chemicals that corrode the stone and bronze of the idols.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729130716_e2fe90b1cc6e7d056fcb8ace2b52d7e011952eb9fcd853984c782137d772b571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250729130716_e2fe90b1cc6e7d056fcb8ace2b52d7e011952eb9fcd853984c782137d772b571" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="782" loading="lazy" alt="Offerings corrode Kathmandu’s gods"> </figure>  Chemical dyes have also eroded idols in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/painted-walls-and-pieces-of-history?%2F=">Bhaktapur Darbar,</a> and damaged stone inscriptions at their pedestals. Historian Purushottam Lochan Shrestha says: “It is interesting that idols and statues that are not worshipped as much have remained intact.”&nbsp; Examples are the Hanuman Bhairav and Narasimha stone idols that flank the entrance to Bhaktapur’s National Art Museum. The inscriptions at their base say both statues were commissioned by King Bhupatindra Malla in 1689 and placed at the entry in the belief that they would ward off disease and disaster, and grant victory in battles with enemy states.&nbsp; Today, the inscription on the lesser-worshipped Hanuman Bhairav retains much of its original form. But the etchings on the Narasimha — revered as the god who protects people from calamity and epidemics — have crumbled because of continuous contact over the decades.&nbsp; “The idols we have are sacred and rare, we will never create statues like these again. So, it is crucial that we stop touching and using chemical offerings in ways that damage them,” adds Shrestha. “We need to change our behaviour and express our faith with our hearts, not with our hands. What good does it do to light lamps that burn the faces of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-diaspora-helps-return-stolen-gods?trk=public_post_comment-text">our gods</a>?” While much of the focus in Nepal has rightly been on the repatriation of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-our-gods-home"> stolen artefacts, &nbsp;images and idols</a> being worshipped at home face rapid deterioration in other ways. It is not just idols, historians are also finding it difficult to decipher inscriptions on stones which contain vital cultural, socio-economic and linguistic documentation because they have been smeared with offerings for so long. &nbsp; An 11th century stone engraving in Bhaktapur Darbar Square that dates back to the Nirbhaya Dev has worn away because it was used as a stepping stone to draw water from a nearby well. The historically significant inscription documents the king gifting Aradhya Dev some land, and identifies Bhaktapur as श्री खोप्पु.&nbsp; In <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/a-thousand-sadhus-and-a-hanuman">Pashupati</a>, one of the four holiest sites in Hinduism, near the temple’s western gate is a Shivalinga of Bishwamitreswor holding a rudraksha necklace in one hand and a kamandalu on the other which have been completely eroded by daily worship, while more inaccessible idols are intact. &nbsp; Sushil Kumar Gautam, archaeological officer at the Pashupati Area Development Trust, told us that the statue’s features were clearly distinguishable until 50 years ago, but the accoutrements in Bishwamitreshwar’s hands are now just bare stumps.&nbsp; “The deterioration of the shivalinga is quite recent, perhaps due to the increasing use of chemical-laden dyes and incense lamps,” Gautam told us.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729130724_7bd719ce070efc1137c1819bfa08b7ab06dfbdecfe0659e5ccc20dc1bd74ca81.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250729130724_7bd719ce070efc1137c1819bfa08b7ab06dfbdecfe0659e5ccc20dc1bd74ca81" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="Offerings corrode Kathmandu’s gods"> </figure>  Another sixth-century statue of a bull located in the courtyard of Pashupati remains intact because the public has been prohibited from touching the antiquity for the past 20 years. The nearby Bankali temple houses a Lichchhavi-era statue of the goddess, armed with a sword and dancing over the prone form of the deity Betal. The stone idol is painted in hues of yellows and purples, and the inscription on the base of the idol has faded, rendering the words unreadable. Luckily, the original text and translation of the valuable inscription was recorded in 1973 by historian Dhana Bajra Bajracharya in his book Licchavi Kaal ka Abhilekh. Other religious artefacts around the Chabahil and Jayabageshwari area are similarly buried underneath the weight of daily religious offerings of vermilion, flowers, fruits, sweets.&nbsp; “We have been called anti-religion when we pointed out that the dyes and offerings have damaged our idols,” says Gautam. &nbsp;“Devotees should be made more aware of the damage they inflict on the gods and goddesses they worship.”&nbsp; Many artefacts have been damaged so badly that they have had to be replaced multiple times, like the 16th century copper idol of a prone Betal on the main gate of the Maitidevi temple. The idol was replaced with a new one six months ago after constant contact with offerings corroded its mouth, forehead, and feet, says temple priest Tirtha Jyoti Bajracharya.&nbsp; Burning of incense inside the temple was banned as the statues were coated in thick layers of corrosive soot. He says: “We cannot tell people not to worship, but we have to do what we can to preserve our gods. Some devotees understand us, others do not.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729130720_f27539197496569ec143be8c758abffe9263c9f5a0deaafe5c1591319cd7e587.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250729130720_f27539197496569ec143be8c758abffe9263c9f5a0deaafe5c1591319cd7e587" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="750" loading="lazy" alt="Offerings corrode Kathmandu’s gods"> </figure>  Chemist Rajesh Prasad Singh of the Department of Archaeology confirms that offerings are the primary reason for the deterioration of religious artefacts. Vermilion is made from a mineral called cinnabar (mercury sulphide) and synthetic saffron corrodes stone and metal. Chemicals in processed milk and sweets offered to deities also damage the faces of idols, while oil from lamps contributes to discolouration.&nbsp; “There is also natural weathering at work, but most of the damage is from touching or materials used for worship,” adds Singh.&nbsp; Cultural expert Govinda Tandon agrees that deterioration of Nepal’s religious artefacts has accelerated in recent years because traditional organic dyes have been replaced with chemicals. Vermilion used to be made by mixing dried red sandalwood with pomegranate, rose, and rhododendron flowers, while henna, pine leaves or spinach were combined to make green dyes. Yellow was extracted from dried turmeric, and purple from beetroot. Coloured powders available in the market, which are used for festivals like Tihar and Holi, are also toxic to humans because they contain compounds of lead (Pb), chromium (Cr), cadmium (Cd) and even mercury (Hg). The Nepal government in 2015 set the maximum amount of lead allowed in colours and paints at 90 ppm (parts per million). But a 2021 study into 62 enamel paints currently sold in Nepal found that at least 30 contained more than the prescribed amount of lead.&nbsp; Distance Worship Meanwhile, the application of chemical-based paints and enamels on centuries-old woodcarvings across the city’s temples have also caused many to splinter.&nbsp; “Most wood carvings are so damaged that we can no longer restore them,” says Singh. In India authorities have designated alternative places of worship, only allowing visitors to observe the world heritage sites from a distance.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250729130724_f2b20062f421ced307323f0f08a4739ede71ce98f3116adfbd66a10d99c47c30.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250729130724_f2b20062f421ced307323f0f08a4739ede71ce98f3116adfbd66a10d99c47c30" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="750" loading="lazy" alt="Offerings corrode Kathmandu’s gods"> </figure>  Saubhagya Pradhananga, Director General of the Department of Archaeology, worships regularly at the feet of the reclining Vishnu at Budhanilkantha. Vermilion powder is no longer allowed on the main statue, and devotees have to worship from afar. &nbsp; “What we can do is ban chemical-based worship material, and create separate spaces for religious offerings,” she says. “For this we need extensive public awareness efforts. Besides temples and idols we also have the intangible heritage of ritual worship linked to our faith, so completely stopping this practice is neither possible, nor the appropriate solution.” &nbsp;

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Offerings corrode Kathmandu’s gods

Israel’s ongoing war of annihilation in Gaza has wiped out hospitals, schools, homes, water, and food, reducing the Palestinian territory to a wasteland and leaving a death toll of more than 53,000 people. But an equally lethal campaign has been unleashed against the foundations of Palestinian society and identity.
The Israeli Defense Force (IDF) has targeted libraries, repositories, and institutions of Palestinian culture and heritage in a mission to eradicate the history, literary accomplishments, and political and social existence of Palestine as a place and people.
“The losses in Gaza are vast, incalculable, as we are still in the throes of a genocidal war that has already destroyed 70% of the Gaza Strip and killed or maimed 10% of its embattled population,” says Raja Khalidi, Co-Administrator of the Khalidi Library, an Arab public library founded by the Khalidi family in East Jerusalem more than a century ago. “So has the Israeli war machine in Gaza and the West Bank wrought indiscriminate destruction that threatens erasure of Palestinian written, architectural, and archaeological cultural heritage.”
In a recent report on the destruction of libraries, archives, and museums in Gaza since the conflict erupted in 2023, the solidarity organisation <a href="https://librarianswithpalestine.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/LAP-Gaza-Report-2024.pdf">Librarians and Archivists with Palestine</a> (LAP) stated that “the destruction of cultural heritage in Gaza impoverishes the collective identity of the Palestinian people, irrevocably denies them their history, and violates their sovereignty.”
“The greatest loss remains the normalisation of the daily massacres of Gazans, including children. Every Palestinian life is a record, a history. The Zionist war machine realises this and the targeting of children, in particular, is an attempt at destroying the future narrative of Palestine,” says Ahmad Almallah, a Palestinian poet who grew up in Bethlehem and now lives in Philadelphia in the United States.
Bordered by Israel to the east and the Mediterranean Sea to the west, Gaza comprises 365 square kilometers of land that is home to about 2.1 million Muslim and Christian Palestinians who have lived under siege for more than half a century. Many Palestinians fled to Gaza following Israeli dispossession of their villages and homes during the Al-Nakba, or the ‘Catastrophe,’ in 1948. Then the territory was part of Egypt. Israel subsequently seized Gaza during the Six-Day War of 1967 until 1993, when the Oslo Accords made way for it to be administered by the Palestinian Authority.
The Islamic resistance organisation, Hamas, then took power in 2005. Its launching of a <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepalis-confirmed-killed-in-hamas-attack">raid and attack within Israel in October 2023</a>, which resulted in the death of 1,200 Israelis with 251 taken hostage, triggered the current Gaza war. Since then, the IDF has sustained a relentless military onslaught leading to the obliteration of every facility for human habitation in Gaza and the escalation of a <a href="https://apnews.com/article/hamas-israel-gaza-crisis-hunger-palestinians-war-9caf8f6eb19efe038c1fd50aa1d2d8ec">humanitarian crisis</a> due to lack of food, water, shelter, and medical services.
While a ceasefire began on 19 January, disputes between Israel and Hamas about progress in hostage and prisoner exchanges led to the <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cq6yp5d5v9jo">ceasefire fracturing on 18 March</a>. The IDF resumed its offensive with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu further threatening to <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/israel-gaza-hamas-katz-annex-idf-palestinian-witkoff-rcna197434">annex parts of Gaza</a>.
This month <a href="https://www.unesco.org/en/gaza/assessment">UNESCO</a> reported that Israel had destroyed 107 important cultural sites in the Palestinian enclave, including historic buildings, mosques, churches, and museums. And last year, LAP detailed the damage and destruction of <a href="https://librarianswithpalestine.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/LAP-Gaza-Report-2024.pdf">22 libraries and archives</a>, including Gaza’s Central Archives, which contained valuable documentation of the enclave’s 150-year history. 
The Diana Tamari Sabbagh Library, which held tens of thousands of books, was also destroyed, as was the Omari Mosque and Library, which was built in the 7th century and held a major collection of rare books dating to the 14th century. Four university libraries in Gaza also suffered damage, including the Al-Quds Open University Library and the Jawaharlal Nehru Library of Gaza’s Al-Azhar University. Historical records destroyed in Gaza include those that proved Palestinian land and property ownership.‘
Several years ago, the occupation destroyed the National Library in Gaza, razing its towering structure to the ground. With its destruction, the dream of creating a repository for both ancient and modern Palestinian works was obliterated. The site that once promised to preserve a rich cultural heritage became little more than a platform for displaying political party flags and leaders’ portraits,’ Palestinian novelist <a href="https://internationaleonline.org/contributions/the-library-and-the-massacre-a-novelists-testimony-on-the-destruction-of-libraries-in-the-gaza-strip/">Yousri al-Ghoul</a> wrote in January.
The current conflict continues attempts to erase Palestinian history and identity that began during the <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-nakba-how-the-palestinians-were-expelled-from-israel-205151">Al-Nakba</a> when Palestinian homes and their contents were looted and destroyed.
“As a child of the first intifada in Palestine, even words, the raw material for books, were very dangerous toys to play with. The Israeli occupation banned using the word ‘Palestine,’ and children and teenagers caught inscribing the word on a wall were either shot dead or arrested and subjected to torture. But that didn’t stop Palestinians from writing the word and piling on it poems, literature, and personal and natural history,” adds Almallah.
Together with this loss, Palestinian writers, intellectuals, artists, and journalists have been killed, putting in jeopardy the continuity of knowledge and culture within society and its transmission to the next generation. Those who have lost their lives since 2023 include the writer <a href="https://www.all4palestine.org/ModelDetails.aspx?gid=7&amp;mid=121099&amp;lang=en">Abdul Karim Hashash</a>, who has written many books on Palestinian poetry and culture, and <a href="https://madisonrafah.org/meca-colleague-and-friend-doaa-al-masri-killed-in-gaza/">Doaa Al-Masri</a>, Librarian at Gaza’s Edward Said Library.
In 2016 the International Criminal Court identified the desecration of a people’s cultural heritage as a <a href="https://news.un.org/en/story/2016/09/541172">war crime</a> in a case about Islamist attacks on UNESCO-protected monuments in Timbuktu in Mali. Subsequently, in 1954, <a href="https://www.unesco.org/en/heritage-armed-conflicts/1954-convention">the Hague Convention</a>, an international treaty stipulating the protection of cultural property in armed conflicts, was established and has now been signed by 136 countries.
More recently, <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-67922346">South Africa</a> included allegations of cultural dispossession in the case it launched in 2023 of genocide by Israel in Gaza in the International Court of Justice (ICJ). It will likely take the court years to reach a ruling. But in January last year, it issued initial orders to Israel to prevent and punish acts and public incitement to commit genocide by its military, an order that Israel continues to ignore.
“The international community has failed Palestinians, it has failed Gaza now. It has not done anything to stop the genocide and the massacring of children. I don’t expect they will do anything to save our books. But despite all Zionist attempts to silence them, we are witnessing Palestine becoming part of world heritage; Palestine is now everywhere,” says Almallah.
In the meantime, there are important institutions in the region taking action to ensure the tactics of erasure will not succeed. In Jerusalem, the <a href="https://www.khalidilibrary.org/en">Khalidi Library</a>, which is home to a rich collection of thousands of books and Islamic manuscripts representing an Arab literary heritage over many centuries, is a testament to cultural resilience. It also conducts extensive manuscript conservation, restoration, and digitization work and has been a pillar of vibrant Palestinian scholarship, thought, and writing since the early 20th century.
Khalidi emphasised that, looking ahead, in any reconstruction plan for post-war Gaza, “the first task will be for competent organisations, such as UNESCO, to launch a proper survey of the destruction of cultural heritage in Gaza… then ensure the future preservation and restoration or digitisation of salvaged collections.”
<a href="https://www.ipsnews.net/2025/05/palestinians-call-out-israels-mission-to-destroy-their-history-and-cultural-heritage-in-gaza/">Republished</a> under an arrangement with Inter Press Service (IPS).

The loss of an identity

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd7699c7e80680e092dd9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1955" height="1304"/><figcaption>The US Ambassador to Nepal, Randy Berry. Photo: US EMBASSY IN NEPAL</figcaption></figure>T<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/us-museum-returns-stolen-nepal-god/">he figure of Laxmi-Narayan</a>, stolen from a shrine in Patan’s Patko Tole in 1984 and recently traced to the Dallas Museum of Art, US, is to be returned to Nepal. The US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) has taken possession of the 70kg figure and will deliver it to the Nepal Embassy in Washington on 5 March. The holy androgynous composite of the two deities had been worshipped for 800 years before it disappeared, and the local people had replaced it with a replica. The image of the 15th-century deity was first published in Indian historian Krishna Deva’s book, Images of Nepal in 1984, followed by Nepal’s art historian <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/lain-singh-bangdels-legacy-lives-on/">Lain Singh Bangdel</a>’s book, Stolen Images of Nepal.  On the sidelines of the handover of the Lakshmi-Narayan statue Nepali Times spoke to the US Ambassador to Nepal, Randy Berry about the US government’s role in supporting Nepal to protect its cultural heritage and art. Excerpts:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJNecZPPyVUNepali Times: What is the role of US Embassy in repatriating stolen arts?In this case, our Regional Security Office – staffed with special agents from the Bureau of Diplomatic Security – played a critical liaison role between the Nepal Police and the US Federal Bureau of Investigation, which was conducting the investigation in Texas. Being able to bridge the communication gap between Nepal and American law enforcement agencies and ensuring harmony in the efforts of all involved in the recovery of the Lakshmi-Narayan statue are key strengths of our Regional Security Officers.Overall, helping to protect cultural heritage is an important and unique aspect of our foreign policy. For more than 50 years, the US Department of State has had a Bureau dedicated to education and cultural affairs. Its mission is to foster mutual understanding between Americans and the people of other countries through people-to people exchanges, such as the Fulbright and IVLP programs, and through sports, arts, and cultural programs.One of the programs which I am most proud of is our Ambassador’s Fund for Cultural Preservation (AFCP). This is a US government program that provides direct grants for preserving cultural heritage by enlisting community members and local and federal governments in partner countries. Since 2003, there have been 25 AFCP projects just in Nepal, including Kathmandu’s Gaddi Baithak, investing more than $3.8 million. That’s incredible. Even more so, as part of our AFCP projects, our grantees also ensure artisan training to transfer knowledge and job skills to younger generations. So it is not just a program that ends when the work on a particular project is complete.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd76c9c7e80680e092ddajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1002"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd76e9c7e80680e092ddbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="428"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd76f9c7e80680e092ddcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="428">How important of a precedent is the homecoming of Lakshmi-Narayan statue? It has huge importance. First, this is an idol that dates back to between the 12th and 15th  centuries, and it speaks to Nepal’s rich cultural heritage. The homecoming also reflects the unique friendship between Nepal and the United States. It is a collective effort of the Dallas Museum of Art, the Embassy of Nepal in the United States, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m thrilled the Laxmi-Narayana will finally be back where it belongs – in the hands of Nepalis.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepals-gods-return-from-exile/">Nepal's gods return from exile</a>, Alisha SijapatiThere are thousands of Nepali artifacts in the United States, will the Embassy help in identifying them and cooperate with the Nepal government in the future?Whenever possible, we intend to collaborate with the concerned stakeholders to identify the artifacts and facilitate their return. I hope that this is the beginning of these pieces coming back to Nepal. They are not only in the United States, but in many places around the world.  I hope other governments and museums follow suit.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd7719c7e80680e092dddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1554" height="954"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>What are America’s policies on restoration of antiquities of Greece, Italy, Egypt, and Cambodia?I can’t speak to a broad policy for those pieces from those countries. However, the Department of State has incredible programs that demonstrate the United States’ commitment to art and cultural preservation as I discussed above.To my knowledge, we are one of the few foreign affairs ministries that has an entire bureau that is in part dedicated to the art and culture of our diplomatic partners. That is because we consider cultural heritage vitally important – not only as a matter of foreign policy, but because we recognise the commonality in wanting to preserve cultural and historical pieces, art, and property for future generations.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/replicating-nepals-stolen-gods/">Replicating Nepal's stolen gods</a>, Alisha Sijapati<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111148/636cd7739c7e80680e092ddejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="4096" height="2663"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>How can the US Embassy help Nepal in restoring it cultural heritage and idols?The US Embassy in Nepal has been promoting the conservation of cultural heritage for a long time. A recent example is the restoration of Gaddi Baithak of Basantapur, which was damaged by the 2015 earthquake. We feel honoured that we were able to help restore it to its original grandeur. We also support preservation of Nepal’s temples and monasteries through the Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation, as I’ve just mentioned.Could you tell us something about your personal interest in preserving art?I’ve had an enduring interest in art as a means of communication, art history, and art preservation throughout my life, and my Masters’ level studies focused on Art History. I also had the opportunity as a young man to live and work in North Africa, and study the ancient architecture, statuary, and hieroglyphs from Cairo (in Egypt) to Meroe (in Sudan) and all points in-between. Art has been a vital form of human communication since prehistoric times. It is a reflection of who we were, what we believed, and how we lived. When we preserve historic art, we embrace and conserve history, and honor those ancient storytellers who used form and texture, rather than words, to express cultural value.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/bringing-our-gods-home/">Bringing our gods home</a>, Sahina Shrestha

US support to restore stolen Nepal gods

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

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

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

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

"It is hard to feel neutral"

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

The accidental journalist

From the echo chambers of social media to neighborhood tea shops, the hot topic two weeks after the GenZ revolt toppled Nepal’s government is whether the country should now have a directly elected prime minister. Although this has been proposed before as a way to end the instability in heads of government chosen by the biggest party or coalition in Parliament, it has found supporters and critics in the aftermath of the protests. As democratic as it sounds, a directly elected executive is not that simple.&nbsp; Nepal’s 2015 Constitution does not allow it, but for a young generation impatient for change, this demand raises critical social, political and constitutional questions. Nepal has seen a multiplicity of systems in the past 45 years: from a partyless absolute monarchy to a constitutional one, a parliamentary democracy and then a federal republic. But they have repeatedly failed to bring stability, good governance or an end to corruption in Nepal. But even though lately they have ensured civil liberties, the public was losing hope for the future, especially the young who could air and amplify their outrage on social media. Unbridled corruption and ideologically mismatched fragile coalitions acting with impunity, led many to conclude that a directly elected prime minister would ensure stability and accountability. ‘We have repeatedly trusted the same political parties, but they have repeatedly broken that trust, so it is no longer possible to trust that system anymore,’ says Miraj Dhungana, popular for the TikTok videos asking young people to go out into the streets to rally against corruption, and seen by many as the ‘original’ representative of Gen Z.&nbsp; In interviews he has stated that it has become necessary for Nepal to have a directly elected executive head through constitutional amendment. Dhungana himself did not participate in the protests after his meeting with pro-monarchist businessman Durga Prasai on 7 September sparked controversy that he as a lackey. Binod Deuba Thakuri of the Nepal Student Union who also participated in the GenZ protests thinks Nepal is institutionally not ready for directly elected prime minister: “Our democracy is not mature yet, our institutions are not strong, and we are vulnerable to social media induced populism.”&nbsp; CONSTITUTION AMENDMENT Amending the Constitution would also open a pandora’s box, with other demands, and should be left to the next legislative body, he adds. In her address to the nation on Friday, Prime Minister Sushila Karki who is a former chief justice also clarified that her interim government does not have the mandate to amend the Constitution to make way for a directly elected head of government, and it should be up to the new legislature and government after the 5 March election.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250919130956_799b2d43dccca73b3bff96e435efc0752203117b2cb219d0073994c0e6f2ee25" data-rendition-name="original" width="4160" height="2774" loading="lazy" alt="Constitution Day NT"> <figcaption>Constitution Day address by Prime Minister Sushila Karki on 19th September earlier this month.</figcaption> </figure>  The demand for a directly elected executive head was first raised by Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal after the 2006 ceasefire. He proposed himself as Nepal’s first executive president ahead of the 2008 Constituent Assembly elections. While the UML did not strongly oppose the idea, the Nepali Congress (NC) stuck to a parliamentary framework. The 2015 Constitution ultimately clinched it for the current parliamentary system. The Constitution stipulates that the process of selecting a prime minister is based on parliamentary strength: the President appoints the leader of the party with a majority in the House of Representatives, or, in the absence of such a majority, a member who can demonstrate majority support. If these efforts fail, provisions exist for coalition or minority governments, and ultimately for the dissolution of the House and fresh elections. The Constitution currently makes no provision for a directly elected prime minister, which means that any attempt to introduce a directly elected executive would first require the careful design of a democratic mechanism to amend the Constitution and set out the procedures for such an election.&nbsp; “There is no legal legitimacy to have the directly elected executive head of the country in the March election, except if political legitimacy surpasses legality but that would mean a new constitution,” explains senior advocate Surendra Kumar Mahato. “Many other institutional arrangements like the appointment of the judiciary, the role of the president, and other check and balance mechanisms would need to be restructured.” Mahato says: “Nepal’s Constitution itself is not at fault — it is the political actors, who have failed to uphold good governance within its framework. Changing systems does not ensure better governance.”&nbsp; Changing the Constitution also needs a broad political consensus, the institutional capacity of the state must be carefully considered to ensure such a new system can function effectively in practice and not simply in theory. Empowering an executive head through direct elections should not come at the expense of accountability or parliamentary oversight, and there should be checks and balances in place. LESSONS FROM ABROAD Sri Lanka’s 2022 Agralaya was fuelled by the anger that the directly executive head turned out to be an authoritarian who backslides on democracy. Under Sri Lanka’s 1978 Constitution, the country adopted a directly elected executive presidency with sweeping powers over the cabinet, appointments, dismissal of parliament, and control over key institutions.&nbsp; Over the years, President Mahinda Rajapaksa removed term limits via the 18th Amendment in 2010, centralised appointment powers, including judges and heads of independent commissions, and used constitutional changes such as the 20th Amendment (2020) to reverse safeguards that limited presidential authority, thereby subordinating the legislature, weakening oversight, and enabling authoritarian control.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250914060932_a96e1046d0b148982b33f2dcbe56f349dc0c20a087e358360eb2dddcfe0b5072" data-rendition-name="original" width="4640" height="2610" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ and Aragalaya"> <figcaption>Anti-government protest in Sri Lanka on 13 April 2022 in front of the Presidential Secretariat. Photo: WIKIPEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  Nepal’s multiparty framework upholds an institutional balance where both the governing party and the opposition have defined roles. This parliamentary setup prevents power from being overly concentrated in one individual and ensures accountability through parliament and competing parties. Beyond the neighbourhood, the United States has a directly elected executive system. Donald Trump exemplifies how direct electoral mandate can fracture institutional check mechanisms. He has leveraged his power to attack judges, frame political opponents, turn legal defeats into rallying points for his supporters, often using pliant media platforms to reinforce the idea that institutional checks impeded the popular will. In Nepal, there is a risk that a directly elected prime minister could bring up a populist media savvy messiah who could use public grievances to get to power and consolidate it. Social media can be mobilised and easily saturated with posts to fuel a political narrative of choice.&nbsp; In the past, former prime minister K P Oli’s ‘digital army’ has been lobbied on his behalf on social media. Even without an ‘IT sena’, it is not unusual for governments to collaborate with social media platforms as seen in the US and India.&nbsp; In Nepal, a directly elected prime minister would raise the stakes, turning the battle for votes into a battle for attention online, where a leader who wins the algorithm also wins the elections, just as Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah demonstrated in 2022 with support from groups like MRR and RONB. The Balen Phenomenon started in social media trickled to the ballot box.&nbsp; The digital space mas ensure that it is not trendy to dislike Balen. Comments that are critical of the Kathmandu Metropolitan City’s treatment of street vendors or of the mayor himself are met with backlash from supporters. Or, if the comments did not get any likes, the algorithms filtered them out as ‘not relevant’.&nbsp; The conversation of Shah often centred on his emotive responses and sentiments, generating strong engagement online. Meanwhile, policy debates received comparatively less attention.&nbsp; “Choosing a leader directly through an election means that we are vulnerable to populism and undermining of the democratic process, accountable institutions,” says Thaukri. Political activist Pradip Gyawali admits that the GenZ revolt was an example of how social media is a powerful tool to organise and disseminate information. But there are risks posed by disinformation and fake news online.&nbsp; “More media and political literacy among the people before the election in March is crucial to control the damage social media could do to influence voter behaviour,” he says.&nbsp; Beyond social media, online news increasingly relies on sensational, click-driven headlines to attract readers in a competitive digital market. A recent survey showed that 82.6% of GenZ (16- 24) rely on Facebook for news and 51.4% on YouTube.&nbsp; Nepali people with higher education seemed to engage with news more (99.1%) than illiterate individuals at 52.1%. Byte-sized headline-only journalism is leaving readers to their own devices, and vulnerable to media infiltration by IT cells.&nbsp; With social media actively shaping the course of elections, and news consumption, debates about changing the Constitution or the system of governance yet again may not ensure the demands for corruption free governance is met. Instead, strengthening media and political literacy among voters is key to prepare for the elections in March. Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

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