<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161144/636d1d0e9c7e80680e0af390jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>Photo: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>Tara wanted to understand why she had been so angry all the time. But she could make no sense of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/anger-management-for-nepali-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">her anger</a>—anger that burst from within her like an inferno.Most days, she would wake up in the morning and go back to sleep. She could not comprehend what made getting out of bed so hard. Maybe the fear of having to face the world. Or just having to step out of bed—the act of moving her feet from underneath layers of bedclothes to the floor. Just the act. She would sometimes replay it in her head in repeat before actually doing it.Most days, she had zero courage to move her feet. But by mid-morning, she would usually make do.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/no-direction/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">No direction</a>, Pratibha TuladharSome days Tara worried about having to talk to Ama. Ama was constantly angry, too. Either angry or afraid. When she wasn’t one of the two, she would only talk about her grief.Ama saw the strangest details in everything around her. Even in pigeons shitting. She would say they must be having a bad stomach. Now, how on earth could she know what was going inside a pigeon’s belly! But she vouched for it. The pigeon. Diarrhetic.She would scoop out details in everything.Whenever Ama met some new fabric for the first time, she would pull the garment up to her eyes, looking through her glasses like they would bleed into the details. Even as she was going blind. Ama!Ama is stuck in between times. She has her ideals, and little else. Most of all, she has no money. Without money, ideals aren’t easy to sell to others. You can only use it as dinner table rants with Tara, who she was brought up to be just like her-- moralistic, semi-arrogant, awkward and afraid at the same time. Yet, every day, Tara promised herself she would never allow herself to become anything like Ama!Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/sita/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sita</a>, Pratibha TuladharBut every day, Tara felt a part of her slide through the loophole of her promise. She was gradually turning out to be just like Ama. She had even started laughing like Ama and wheezing like her during asthmatic attacks.The change was so gradual, it did not escape either of them. Tara, now Ama’s spitting copy. Not in image. But in doing. That is who mothers and daughters are—they are each other. Without ever wanting to be.Some days, Tara is not so angry. And on those days, she reaches out with her hands to warm up Ama’s hands. Ama’s hands are a prettier, older version of Tara’s. But they are firm—calloused from years of caring.“Not a rupee for all the care work we do, us housewives!” yells Ama sometimes, after reading an article in the women’s column. After flinging the newspaper aside, off she goes and bends over the kitchen sink again.Ama.Some nights, when it rains, Tara is really cold. And she thinks it is the perfect excuse for her <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/the-republic-of-insomnia,3311" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">insomnia</a>. In the morning, she will tell Ama she did not sleep because it was too cold.Last night was cold. It rained like mad, like the rain would sweep away all of Kathmandu. Tara regretted not having enough bedclothes. Tara reminded herself that she must get her quilt out in the morning.When she woke up this morning, timorous rays of the sun had begun to steal into the house. Tara asked Ama where her quilt was. She said she had put it away.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/letter-to-a-nepali-aunty/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Letter to a Nepali aunty</a>, Anjana RajbhandaryIt irritated Tara to think she would have to go through the ordeal of digging up through a pile of bedclothes to find her quilt. Because Ama had the habit of stowing everything within sight, away. She thought of it as a way of cleaning up the house. And memory.It was a while before Tara dug up her quilt.“I hate the sight of that thing,” Ama said, when her daughter finally managed to pull it out.The quilt, you see, was among the things Ama had bought Tara as her wedding presents. In those days, she was still young and strong so the two had walked through nooks and gallies of Ason, finally deciding on the quilt and then lugging it home all the way to Siuchatar, jumping on and off public vehicles.The cover had massive red and green floral prints. While Tara was married, it had kept her warm—in matrimony and in her loneliness. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/nepals-unequal-marriages/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Marriage can mean many things</a>. It can be a trail of sighs, hours of tears, punctuated by laughter. Who knows what stays with one when trials are actually over. Not the words, but the essence of experiences.So, when Tara’s marriage ended, bundles of things that belonged to her were sent back to Ama’s home. The quilt was one of the things.Tara wanted to carry it to the terrace and spread it out, so it could soak some sun. But when she carried it up to the terrace, Ama was already there.“I hate the sight of it,” Ama murmured.“It’s alright. It’s mine. You don’t need to deal with hating it.”Tara walked past Ama to the corner of the terrace where pansies and petunias were still in bloom. So unlike this time of the year, Tara thought. Ama’s flowers, just as mad as her. The overnight rain had tampered with them. But they were still there. Withering away, but swaying gently every time the softest, post-rain breeze gathered at their stems.And Tara thought, “We are in spring.”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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Of anger and love

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141132/636cfdb09c7e80680e0a0bfbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="910" height="607"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>A few months ago, a friend of mine finally left an unhappy marriage after years of struggle. Her husband was emotionally and mentally abusive, but she was expected to be patient and tolerant like a good Nepali wife and daughter-in-law. She also had to put up with his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Cheating,2375" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">wandering ways</a>.When she mustered up enough courage to tell her parents about it, they told her he would change if she worked on her marriage. When her in-laws found out about her son, they blamed her, saying she was not a good enough wife.But after years of working on her marriage unsuccessfully, and with support from her parents, she decided it was time to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/%20number-of-nepali-women-filing-for-divorce-rises,1513" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">call it quits</a>. But this decision was met with harsh criticism, people called her an “embarrassment to the family” for leaving her husband.How is her walking away from an unhappy union and an abusive husband a disgrace to our culture, but not <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/cheating-is-a-choice-not-a-mistake,2148" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">his cheating</a>? Why is she being called names, but her husband’s philandering does not even raise an eyebrow?Our society accepts these double standards with closed eyes. Men and boys get away with doing whatever they want, no one bats an eyelash. But if a woman or girl chooses to prioritise her well-being over ill-treatment in her own family, it is everyone’s business, she is labelled immoral and disrespectful of our culture or traditions.When her husband’s cheating and abuse of her was exposed, no one questioned him about disregarding the sanctity of the marriage or his lack of morality. But when she decided to pursue her happiness, she was called out for her lack of respect in ending a relationship after years of trying.How is this ethical or even logical? When men choose to stray, our society stays quiet and looks the other way, but when <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-goal-is-empowerment-and-independence-of-women/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women</a> try to stand up for themselves, they are met with societal threats and shamed.If it is strength and courage to tolerate injustice and abuse, why does anyone not talk about how wrong it is to cheat and mistreat others?What is more shocking is how some women choose to blame the woman instead of the man in these matters. How can they not feel the pain and suffering of women living in hell, but pretending to be happy?It was not easy for my friend to walk away, she knew her choosing to do so would be met with more obstacles and malicious rumours. So the least we can do if we do not support the women is to not make it harder for them.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/parodying-patriarchy-at-tij/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Tij festival</a> is approaching and soon, women will be fasting for the long lives of their husbands. They are taught to treat their husbands like gods. But this is not how a god would behave. If we give that level of respect to men, they need to live up to it.Men are raised like they can do no wrong, and from a young age are taught that they are better than women. This is not the Middle Ages, and men need to learn to act responsibly. They need to control their egos, and learn that their actions and choices have consequences.Men might have got away with mistakes in the past, but not anymore. The world is changing and women are speaking up.Of course, not all men are like that and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/coping-with-the-patriarchy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">our society</a> knows right from wrong, but the selective discrimination between men and women is hypocritical and shameful in today’s time and world.The foundation of a strong and respectful society is not based on lies or hidden truths. We have to go a long way in terms of equality for all genders, but acknowledging the person at fault for the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/long-distance-marriages-cheating,2408" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">breakdown of a marriage</a> instead of a default setting to blame a woman is a good start.Society must learn to be kind to the women who have suffered. Do not berate them in the name of culture and tradition, but support them. Stand by them when they are standing up for themselves. Encourage them to seek happiness instead of continuing to suffer in an abusive relationship.Every woman who suffers in these loveless marriages is someone's daughter, sister and friend. Everyone deserves to be happy, and it is their life to live.My friend left her husband, and her parents supported her decision. She is a strong woman, she continues to struggle with unkind treatment. But I am proud of her, for her courage. I know it has not been easy on her, but she is happier.Anjana Rajbhandary writes this fortnightly Nepali Times column Life Time about mental health, physical health and socio-cultural issues.

Anjana Rajbhandary

Nepal’s unequal marriages

<figure><img width="1500" height="926" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108181148/636a96c89c7e80680e05dc89jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Rinadevi Mahara from Dhanusha, abandoned at Godavari Modern Hospital in Janakpur for lack of money to pay hospital charges</figcaption></figure>Ajaya Anuragi in Himal Khabarpatrika, 24-30 NovemberBrutality against women exists in families across Nepal, but nowhere more so than in Province 2, police figures show. What is not so clear is whether gender-based violence is becoming more common in this plains province, or that better educated women are now taking complaints to the police.The number of complaints of violence against women in the eight districts of Province 2 surged dramatically from 602 three years ago to 10,243 in the past year. Most of the complaints involved dowry-related violence, polygamy, physical domestic violence against women, trafficking, rape and attempted rape. There were 125 murders of women in the past three years, mostly by drunk husbands or in-laws.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/using-numbers-to-fight-gender-based-violence/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Using numbers to fight gender-based violence</a>, Lisa HonanProvince 2 police statistics show women are more unsafe outside of homes than inside. In the past five months, 50 women who were driven out of their homes due to domestic violence sought refuge in a shelter run by the Women’s Rehabilitation Centre (WOREC) in Janakpur. “Women are unsafe everywhere, but the statistics for Province 2 look alarming,” says Gyankumar Mahato of the provincial police office. However, DIG Pradyumna Karki, chief of Province 2 police, thinks the number of crimes has increased because more people are reporting them. “Previously, people used to try and hush up crimes like rapes. But now more people are aware of the presence of the police, and we get all sorts of complaints,” Karki says. Advocate Rekha Jha agrees: “Women have tried to hide these incidents in the past but are now coming forward with their testimonies. That is the reason the numbers look higher.”Others, however, say that while there may be an increase in complaints, the number of incidents has also shot up because of new factors like the spread of social media, unregulated sale of alcohol, drugs and entrenched patriarchy in the still largely conservative region.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Here-We-Go/2013-jun-21-here-we-go-gender-violence,122" target="_blank" rel="noopener">#Genderviolence</a>, Trishna Rana “The misuse of social media is contributing to violence against women,” says Rekha Dutt of the National Human Rights Council, Janakpur Office. “Weak implementation of laws further encourages criminal tendencies. When perpetrators go free because of political pressure, it raises the confidence of those who prey on women.”Yagya Prasad Acharya of the district court in Dhanusha district has a different take on the problem: “Now, men also have the right to file for divorce. In the past when only women could file for divorce, men hesitated to commit violence. Now that fear is gone.” Court records show that abuse of social media was a cause in increasing numbers of violence against women in the province. With the rise in female literacy, young women are now also more assertive, refusing to get married early, or if they do, brides are not as submissive towards in-laws as in the past.Another reason for the rise in violence against women is mismatched marriages, activists say. Poor families still try to marry their daughters into rich families by offering dowry, even by incurring large debts. Dowry-related violence against young women is still a major cause of domestic violence -- police records show that the number of incidents rose from 3,609 last year to 4,671 this year. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/corrosive-conduct/" target="_blank" rel="noopener"> Corrosive Conduct</a>, EditorialIn the past three years the highest number of complaints about gender-based violence was from Bara and Parsa districts, and rape cases were most prevalent in Siraha, Saptari and Sarlahi.  Politicians at all three levels of government underline that ending violence against women and establishing gender equality is their priority. Province 2 Chief Minister Lalbabu Raut had even announced the ‘Chief Minister Educate Daughter, Save Daughter’ campaign amidst much fanfare. Padam Prasad Pokharel, information officer in the province’s cabinet office, says the campaign is mainly focused on education. “The campaign aims to end child marriage through education -- it is also working on women's safety,” he says. The province's Ministry of Social Development is imparting self-defence training to girl students of public schools, aiming to protect them from abuse, violence, and rape. “The schools wrote to us saying the program was effective, so we are continuing it this year,” Pokharel says. In the past year the ministry spent Rs11 million on self-defence training at schools, but it has taken no other initiative to reduce violence and crimes against women. At the provincial level, the ministry of internal affairs and law is in charge of these matters. “We are drafting a bill about controlling domestic violence and violence against women,” says Surendra Mahato of the ministry.  Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/four-fold-increase-in-reported-rape-in-10-years/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Four-fold increase in reported rape in 10 years,</a> Sewa Bhattarai		
			<h2>Violence against women in Province 2</h2>		
		<ul><li>Usha Devi Das of Janakpur has been enduring torture and abuse from her in-laws for not delivering enough dowry when she got married. She complained to the police twice, but law enforcement only forced the couple to sign a pledge and sent them home. The abuse did not stop. Das complained again, but her in-laws got a stay order from the district court. </li></ul><ul><li>Rita Devi Yadav of Bhangaha of Mahottari district registered a complaint against her husband and his family at the District Police Office, Dhanusha on 4 September, accusing them of physical and mental torture and of throwing her out of the house. Yadav then started living with her parents. She accuses her father-in-law and brothers-in-law of mistreatment. Yadav's husband has gone into hiding after the complaint was filed. The couple has a 21/2 –year-old son. </li></ul><ul><li>Shyam Mahara of Shahidnagar of Dhanusha beat his pregnant wife Rinadevi until she fainted, and left her alone at the provincial hospital in Janakpur. Mahara filed a complaint against her husband 5 days later on 8 September. Her father-in-law then took her home a week later. Mahara was again admitted to the hospital this month when her baby was due. The baby was delivered with a caesarean section, but was in poor health. Her in-laws disappeared after they admitted her, leaving her with Rs1,700 in hospital charges per day. She begs for food from other patients.</li></ul>Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rape-rulings-in-nepal-follow-letter-not-spirit-of-the-law/">Rape rulings in Nepal follow letter, not spirit of the law</a>, Sewa Bhattarai

Alarming rise in violence against women

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.