<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/6369339f9c7e80680e03dfacjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"/><figcaption>A ghost bicycle is tied to a tree near where Shyam Sundar Shrestha died on 27 October. The open drain is now covered. On the night before the 13th day remembrance at the site, this ambulance swerved to avoid another pothole and hit a tree nearby. All photos: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Hundreds of children had been walking past the gaping open drain outside the gates of Laboratory School in Kirtipur every day for the past six months. Teachers had repeatedly asked the Kathmandu Valley water supply utility to cover the ditch. A parent who complained recently was told by workers: “Mind your own business.” A shopkeeper across road has lost count of the number of motorcyclists injured trying to avoid the gutter at night.On 27 October, yoga instructor Shyam Sundar Shrestha was spending the Saturday evening at his home in Chagal with his mother, Sabitri and sister, Shoba. He told them not to let his little nephews waste time playing with mobile phones.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933a39c7e80680e03dfadjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1125" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Shyam Sundar had dinner, checked his laptop, washed his face, and said he was bicycling out to Chobhar. His mother wondered why he had to go out into the dark streets, but did not say anything because her 41-year-old son had criss-crossed Nepal on his bicycle.Shyam Sundar was an introvert since childhood, his mother remembers. He lived frugally, ate little, dressed simply and had a passion for spiritualism and bicycling. He loved the great outdoors, and had followed his guru on a walking pilgrimage from Kathmandu to Kanya Kumari on the southern tip of India, a distance of 4,000km.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933a69c7e80680e03dfaejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="762" height="540"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When he did not return till late that night, Sabitri Shrestha tried unsuccessfully to call her son on his mobile. Even though she was not unduly worried, she called around to relatives who reported a missing person to the Police.The call from the Police came early on Sunday morning: a pedestrian had found Shyam Sundar’s body inside an open drain on the road to Chobhar. The family was in complete shock, as weeping neighbours gathered around. At the site, Police extricated Shyam Sundar’s red bicycle and shoes, and sent his body to hospital for an autopsy.It was just the latest tragedy that brought into sharp focus the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19147#.W-e3dqcQ0Wo" target="_blank" rel="noopener">death trap</a> that Kathmandu’s road have become, with open manholes and drains, gaping ditches on dark streets without pedestrian sidewalks, and the lack of warning signs.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933a89c7e80680e03dfafjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="880"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Shyam Sundar’s death occurred down the road from where renowned conservationist <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2012/03/25/killer-on-the-run/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Pralhad Yonzon</a> was killed almost exactly six years ago. Both were avid bicyclists, and their deaths have exposed criminal state negligence about road safety and the lack of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18714#.W-e3h6cQ0Wo" target="_blank" rel="noopener">bicycle lanes</a> that the city promised.Friends, relatives, colleagues and bicycle enthusiasts gathered on 10 November at the spot where Shyam Sundar Shrestha died for his 13th day remembrance. They paid tribute to a quiet, spiritual man dedicated to helping others. Away from crowd, weeping silently was Sabitri Shrestha.“I cannot describe to you what a decent man and devoted son he is,” she sobbed, still speaking in the present tense about her son. “He never says an unkind word to anyone, never raises his voice. He does not take sugar or white rice, eating only fruit and buckwheat, and has few cravings.”After his two sisters got married, Shyam Sundar was taking care of his mother in their Chagal home, his father having died when he was young. He worked as an English tutor and a yoga instructor, but never felt the need to make much money.Shyam Sundar’s five-year-old nephew points at a photo of him and says, “Pau.” Carrying him on her arms, Shobha Shrestha says tearfully: “He had just started recognising his uncle, and has been asking where he is. What do I tell him?”The ditch where Shyam Sundar died has now been covered with concrete slabs. But the night before the commemoration, an ambulance that had tried to avoid another pothole had rammed into the side of the road, just next to the white ghost bicycle chained to a tree that serves as a memorial to Shyam Sundar.As the small gathering observed a two-minute silence, Nepal Sambat revellers on pickups roared past, there was the sound of fire crackers going off nearby. An ambulance rushed past siren blazing.Advocate Sunil Ranjan Singh’s son goes to Laboratory School, and he had complained many times to the authorities about the dangerous open drain. He said: “This is a failure at all three levels of government. They are all guilty, and the responsibility goes right up to the Prime Minister.”Singh wants to set a legal precedent by taking the matter to the courts so it will set a landmark decision on responsibility and compensation for such negligence in future.On Sunday after Shyam Sundar’s body was found, the Kathmandu Valley water utility (KUKL) covered up the open drain in half-an- hour. “If it was so simple to cover it and make it safe, why didn’t they do it earlier? Did someone have to be killed?” advocate Sunil Ranjan Singh asked.The police released the autopsy report over Tihar, it was as everyone had suspected: Shyam Sundar was knocked unconscious after falling off his bicycle and drowned in sewage half-a-metre deep.Despite the people consoling her, Sabitri Shrestha looked alone and forlorn. She joined her hands in prayer, and said softly: “I used to tell him don’t go where there are no roads, but he died on a road, right here in the capital. I hope no more Nepalis have to die like my son.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171132/636933ac9c7e80680e03dfb0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="591" height="1024"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>

Kunda Dixit

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Don’t go quietly into the night

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107111148/6368e2a39c7e80680e03333cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Bikram Rai</figcaption></figure>At personal, family, community or national levels, we Nepalis are generally not given to maintaining high hygienic standards. Waste management is not our forté. <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/recycle-reuse-reduce-garbage-kathmandu,1279" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Littering is a national trait</a>, we are genetically programmed to dump garbage at our own doorstep, we let household sewage flow into the drainage system which empties into the river we worship.Jesuit missionaries who were the first European travellers to pass through the Nepal Valley en route from Tibet to India in the 17th century described the towns here as the dirtiest they had seen in their journey. In those days, that was saying something.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/toilet-trained/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Toilet trained</a>, Sonia AwaleGranted, Kathmandu eradicated open defecation in the streets within one generation. But other than that, we have regressed in every other respect of urban management, acquiring an international reputation for polluting our rivers, poisoning the air, and tolerating squalour.Google <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/cleaning-up-everest,1408" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Mt Everest</a>, and the top news items will be about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/everest-garbage-caravan" target="_blank" rel="noopener">expedition garbage</a>. Search <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/incompetence-of-kathmandu-airport-magnified-during-shutdown,2086" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Kathmandu Airport</a> and this pops up: fetid toilets and a terminal building redolent with the odour of urine. Kathmandu is no longer known as a valley with historic temple towns, but a dust bowl with garbage landfills along a reeking river, and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Sick-city,108" target="_blank" rel="noopener">air so toxic it is unbreathable</a>.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nature-calls/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nature calls</a>, Sonia AwaleWe spoke to anthropologists, urban planners, ecologists and governance experts to get to the bottom of this chronic failure to pick up after ourselves. They said the problem is not confined to Nepal: disregard for waste management pervades the subcontinent from Peshawar to Chittagong.Flush toilets were invented during the Indus Valley civilisation, but today Pakistan’s rivers are sewers. Mass defecation by the tracks greets passengers on early-morning train rides in northern India. Plastic landfills are new topographical features on Dhaka’s outskirts.Are there cultural reasons that span religions, ethnicities and nationalities for this regional inability to recognise and handle waste? Is it the inherent fatalism in our societies? Does it have a gender angle in our patriarchies? Are individualism, greed and selfishness factors? Are we hardwired to wallow in our own waste?Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/where-to-take-a-dump/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Where to take a dump?</a>, Bhushan TuladharFinding an excuse in cultural determinism for unhygienic behaviour is a cop-out. The reasons lie instead in the failure of education, collapse of governance, lack of accountability, in corruption and impunity. It is <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Buzz-plastic-wars,612" target="_blank" rel="noopener">filthy politics</a> that force people to live in filth. Dirty streets are a metaphor for dirty politics.We are confronted with evidence of chronic state failure everywhere as we move around Nepal: the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/the-ecology-of-worship-bagmati,3380" target="_blank" rel="noopener">putrid Bagmati</a>, government hospitals which spread infections instead of curing them, vehicle emissions that have made Kathmandu so toxic the daily pollution average is five times higher than the WHO threshold.Nepal’s holiest temples are the dirtiest parts of its towns. Cremation sites, instead of evoking transcendence and spiritualism, feel like purgatory. Devotees throng festivals in uplifting mass displays of faith, but once the gods have been appeased, they go home leaving mountains of trash and the gory remains of sacrifices.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/The-sewage-canal,1161" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Cleaning up the Bagmati </a>every Saturday is a valiant gesture, but alas, it is doomed because it does not address the structural root of the solid waste problem. Two weeks ago this newspaper printed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/industrial-scale-litter/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">an investigation into why plastic bag bans have been sabotage</a>d by successive governments: the manufacturers enjoy political protection.Plastic bottles are the new global scourge. We reported that Langtang Valley alone has 5 million discarded plastic water bottles, used once and thrown away. Yet, by placing a value on the bottles, they are now <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/virtuous-cycle/." target="_blank" rel="noopener">being collected for recycling</a>. To reduce single-use plastic trash, Nepal has to upscale such upcycling.This week, the world marks World Environment Day with the theme #BeatPlasticPollution. There is growing global awareness about ocean plastic that is killing marine life and contaminating seafood.Also in this issue we look at the government’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/%20jajarkot-open-defecation-free,2023" target="_blank" rel="noopener">open-defecation free campaign</a> which, although it has raised awareness and reduced child mortality, has concentrated on building latrines but not on sludge disposal and ensuring water supply. There is a danger they will spread the infections they were supposed to control.A civilisation is judged by the way it manages and disposes of its waste. Ministers sweeping streets for tv cameras, or donning masks to test vehicle exhausts are just for show. The government has to go far beyond tokenism with policy reform and its implementation.Smart cities are those which have learnt to generate energy, produce fertiliser and recycle raw materials from their waste. To be smart, Nepal’s municipalities do not have to reinvent the wheel. The solutions are all there. Just Google it.

Getting our shit together

Jazz as healing music

7:30pm Tuesday, 9 September.&nbsp; I was driving my daughter back from a relative’s house in Baneswar where she had taken refuge after a curfew was declared the previous day while she was in school. She was riding pillion on the back of my moped. We drove past Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">where 19 people had been killed by police </a>the previous day. We passed Thapathali, where the Kantipur highrise was on fire. The sky had gone dark, and the stinging smoke made it hard to breathe. A gas cylinder exploded, and the crowd dispersed briefly. The blast provided a moment to escape the raging mob. By myself I may not have been so scared, but my daughter’s safety made me more afraid. I had never been this frightened in my journalism career, even while covering the Maoist insurgency 20 years ago. At the Tripureswor intersection there were more angry crowds. The further we got from the epicentre of the GenZ demonstration, the more elderly the protesters looked. Many were muscular gentlemen with tattooed arms. Prime Minister K P Oli had just <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">resigned</a>, but the crowd was still chanting “के पी चोर, देश छोड”. Soon, we were surrounded by an enraged mob. &nbsp;My survival instinct took over, and I started shouting “के पी चोर” and my plucky daughter screamed from behind “देश छोड”. Father and daughter waved at the &nbsp;protesters, and gave them a thumbs up. &nbsp;We finally got home, scared and smelling of burning rubber and smoke.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251007031028_c5c04095cdb6f0b24cdc2cc60bf627f49c15e0cf9b509ad149df35a2e73e1d3f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September"> <figcaption>A building in Baneswar was damaged by protesters. </figcaption> </figure>  ARSON AND LOOTING I was born in the remote mountains of western Nepal in Rukum, the district that was the stronghold of the Maoist guerrillas after they launched an armed struggle in 1996. I moved to Kathmandu for higher studies, and as a student witnessed the popular uprising of 2006 against Gyanendra’s absolute monarchy. I have covered violence and chaos. I have been caught in the crossfire between the rebels and state security. I covered the violent <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus">street protests</a> of the 2006 People’s Movement that ended the war, the Madhes movement and the Indian blockade of 2015.&nbsp; But never was I more scared than during the 30-minute drive home through the city with my daughter at the back of my moped.&nbsp; Last month’s protests were initially led by youth groups which had loosely banded together as GenZ to protest corruption and impunity. On 8 September, I drove to the Mandala in my trusty moped to cover the rally, some protesters were in school uniform. There was singing and chanting. Just before noon, a slightly older group of protesters peeled off from the sit-in in front of Everest Hotel, broke through the half-hearted police cordon and moved towards the intersection outside Parliament. Most of the original young demonstrators remained at the sit-in, while the grownup protesters who were clearly not a part of the GenZ, started to break the perimeter wall of the Parliament complex. The young protesters looked a bit confused about what to do next as they also neared the Parliament gates. Violence was not a part of their plan, and the infiltration had begun in earnest. A group of organised older rioters broke through the western wall, even as police were concentrated along the main south gate. These agitators seemed focused on a single mission: to burn down the Parliament building, and they went about it purposefully.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251007031032_1fcd474774c8e110e833485cf54a7e63e8c8388ec78c2b4d3ae6e830c203c183" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>Blood seen in Baneswar.</figcaption> </figure>  Too late, the police used water cannons to disperse those by the south gate. I went closer, my press card dangling from my neck. A tear gas canister whizzed past my head. I was not able to see clearly, and backed away to safety. The police opened fire at point blank range, killing 19 protesters. Hundreds of injured were carried to the nearby Civil Hospital. There are many video clips on social media of task force police kneeling, taking aim with SLR rifles and shooting, they show protesters being hit and falling. The riot police fled, and the Armed Police Force and Nepal Army soldiers came out, but remained close to the trucks that had transported them to the intersection. Seeing that the security forces were not stopping them, the crowd then went on an arson rampage — it became a free-for-all as government buildings were set on fire one after another. Most of the arsonists were not GenZ, they were in the mid-30s, and I heard many shouting slogans for the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/why-the-monarchy-still-sways-nepal-s-republic"> restoration of the monarchy</a>. Others were there simply to vandalise and loot. After having chased the police away from the Parliament building, they posted pictures and videos, having the run of the premises, instigating new arrivals to continue with the arson, and also brandishing looted automatic weapons. A curfew was declared, but this did not stop the rampage throughout that evening and into the night. Unable to return home, I spent the night in a friend’s office, and returned to the Parliament area the next morning. The black asphalt was dyed red with blood. Shoes, slippers and pieces of clothing littered the street. The next day, 9 September the much-feared and expected revenge attacks ignited. There was hope that the Army would be able to protect government buildings and provide public security, but the arson, vandalism and looting went unchecked — even when the seats of government were set on fire. The military did make an appearance, but only after 10pm to enforce the curfew, but by then the mob had already gone home.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251007031032_578cfa7c9e56f6ffcf1ca9b148e114a87b5332268cf97720584b70906823c074" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Reporter's diary of 8-9 September NT"> <figcaption>A protester receiving treatment at Civil Hospital.</figcaption> </figure>  That was the moment I asked myself: Where have the students gone? Has the GenZ movement been hijacked? I could not see any of the GenZ-ers anywhere on 9 September. It was around midday of 9 September that millennials, including from groups like Hami Nepal came forward to the media, claiming to speak for the GenZ. They claimed to have led the protests. Others claiming to be GenZ said they were for the restoration of the monarchy, but they did not look the age.&nbsp; Mobs were out of control, burning down the prime minister’s office, the Supreme Court, the CIAA and the official and private residences of ministers. Within 27 hours Nepal became a country without a government, and leaders without homes. Important official documents went up in flames with the buildings that housed them. PM Oli resigned, too late to save the day. The Army occupied itself airlifting ministers from their official residences. Former prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba and his wife foreign minister Arzu Rana Deuba were dragged out, beaten up and their home set on fire. They were rescued and taken to an army base. It became hard to tell over the next few days if the Army was providing them security, or keeping them incommunicado in detention. The Army was negotiating with GenZ as well as pro-monarchists at its headquarters, but moved the talks to President Ram Chandra Paudel’s office on 11 September.&nbsp; Former chief justice Sushila Karki was nominated interim head of government by GenZ delegates voting on Discord, and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/march-to-5-march">mandated to hold elections</a> on 5 March.&nbsp; Will that happen? Things are too fluid at the moment. And my mind is still reeling from the fear and panic of that moped ride with my daughter through rampaging mobs. Did all that really happen in front of my eyes, or was it just a nightmare?&nbsp; Bhadra Sharma is a reporter for The New York Times based in Kathmandu.

Reporter's diary of 8-9 September

The annual United Nations General Assembly is always an occasion for taking stock of the state of the world. But this year, on the 80th anniversary of the UN’s founding, it was also an occasion to take stock of the organisation itself.
By any measure, the UN’s situation is dire. While Russian aggression against Ukraine and mounting tensions between the United States and China cannot be blamed on the UN, they do highlight a fundamental problem. The UN Security Council – where China, Russia, and the US each wield a veto – is locked in a permanent confrontation over one issue or another, blocking the rest of the organisation from moving forward on almost anything.
Consider the situation in the Middle East, where the UN has played a central role in conflict resolution and peacemaking ever since the State of Israel was established (under a UN resolution). Numerous UN peacekeeping operations in the region have helped to alleviate tensions, and massive humanitarian efforts, primarily aimed at Palestinian refugee communities, have saved countless lives. While the UN has not forged a lasting peace, it has certainly helped prevent some wars and shorten others.
In recent years, however, the UN has increasingly been sidelined. The so-called Quartet – the UN, the US, the European Union, and Russia – is now a distant memory, and numerous UN operations have come under direct attack, primarily by Israel. The Israeli government not only questions the humanitarian efforts of UNRWA (the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees) but now also blocks the organisation’s work whenever it can.
Before Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack on Israel, the UN was essential to keeping the situation in Gaza relatively stable. Though it couldn’t overcome divisions among the Palestinians, especially after Hamas assumed power in Gaza in 2006, it could, and did, help provide the basic means of survival for the enclave’s two million people. But now Israel has questioned or attacked virtually every aspect of the UN’s work on this issue, and it could not have done so without America’s tacit support. US President Donald Trump, in particular, has proved willing to accept virtually everything that Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu’s extremist government does.
Meanwhile, the UN has struggled to mobilise an effective response in South Sudan, a semi-failed state, and in Sudan, where a devastating civil war is entering its third year. Similarly, from the Katanga secession in 1960-63 to the recent peace operations in northeastern Congo, Central Africa continues to preoccupy UN peacekeepers and mediators.
Around the world, there is no shortage of crises that demand UN engagement – from Gaza and Sudan to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, Myanmar, and Afghanistan, to name just a few. But with the larger powers fixated on their confrontations with one another, and with the Trump administration withdrawing not only active support but also funding, the outlook for the UN appears grim.
The US provides 25% of UN funding, but it has <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/united-nations-must-adapt-or-die-by-adekeye-adebajo-2025-09" target="_blank">stopped</a> sending its contributions. It also traditionally accounts for an even larger share of voluntary financing for humanitarian operations, but these funds, too, have been cut. Making matters worse, China, the UN’s second-largest contributor, is also behind on its payments.
With its financial situation growing desperate, UN Secretary-General <a href="https://www.project-syndicate.org/columnist/antonio-guterres" target="_blank">António Guterres</a> warns that staff across the organisation will need to be cut by <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/sep/18/united-nations-un-2026-budget-job-losses-us-funding-cuts" target="_blank">one-fifth</a>. Morale is said to be low, as is the prospect of a change for the better. With his recent address to the General Assembly, Trump made clear that he has nothing but contempt for the organisation. The only role he seems able to see for it is to help him get a Nobel Peace Prize. The Trump administration’s forthcoming review of America’s multilateral commitments is almost certain to deliver more bad news.
Does the UN have any future? While the demand for it is as great as ever, its ability to deliver has obviously been diminished. There is no way for it to survive without scaling back its ambitions and abilities; precisely how it goes about this will be a central issue over the next few years.
With Guterres’s tenure ending in 2026, the process of selecting his successor will also have to feature a debate about ensuring the UN’s long-term survival. Moving the headquarters out of the US is a natural step, owing not only to the withdrawal of US funding and the need for cost savings, but also to the US refusal to grant visas to those attending UN gatherings (as it did with the Palestinian leadership this year).
Yes, a UN that is no longer headquartered in New York would be different in many ways. But relocation also may be the only way for it to survive. Dag Hammarskjöld, the UN’s second secretary-general, famously <a href="https://ask.un.org/faq/14623" target="_blank">remarked</a> that the body was not created to deliver Heaven, but rather to spare us from Hell. That task remains as important as ever. But for things to stay the same, everything must change. © Project Syndicate
Carl Bildt is a former prime minister and foreign minister of Sweden.

To survive, the UN must leave the US

Already trying to balance youth demands with legal provisions in the Constitution, Prime Minister Sushila Karki’s interim government faced yet another challenge over Dasain: a receding monsoon dumped unseasonal rain unleashing floods and landslides that killed at least 60, mostly in eastern Nepal.&nbsp; The government was rated positively for its early warning and the ‘visibility’ of its disaster response, with many comparing it to the inaction of the NC-UML coalition during last year’s floods.&nbsp; Government agencies and police proactively closed off hazardous sections of highways as Kathmandu was marooned from the rest of the country in the peak holiday season. Stranded passengers were taken care of, with police, army and local governments in Ilam coordinating rescue and relief efforts. Many of the problems were structural and inherited from decades of neglect and corruption in highway contracts. Shoddy bridges and encroachment of settlements along river banks have increased risk from more frequent extreme weather caused by climate breakdown. With Dasain over Tihar around the corner and the worst of the disaster behind, the Karki administration is trying to balance the separate demands of GenZ movers and shakers who installed her in office with constitutional provisions. It has not helped that the badly-mauled political parties are spoiling for a fight, and the three top leaders show little signs of stepping down. “Nepal’s movement did not happen in a democratic vacuum, so this government walks a very fine line in political legitimacy," says Bidushi Dhungel of the National Democratic Institute in Nepal. "In this fragile space, whatever the work done — or not done— by the interim government within its limited mandate, it may open up avenues for further dissent from old and new actors. They are &nbsp;caught between a rock and a hard place.” Civil society activists issued a statement on Wednesday calling on the main political parties to heed the writing on the wall and reform themselves. Signed by professor Krishna Khanal and former ambassador Keshab Mathema, the statement said: 'The main leaders of the main parties should say sorry, and voluntarily resign ... they must respect public sentiments and work to reform and transform their parties to be more accountable to the public, or risk being irrelevant.'&nbsp; Complicating matters further are the sometimes contradictory demands of various GenZ factions on punishing those responsible for the carnage and rampage of 8-9 September, Constitution and elections. Karki faces calls to immediately detain former PM KP Oli and Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak for their involvement in the massacre outside Parliament. Under pressure from GenZ delegates, Home Minister Om Aryal fired off a letter to the police to arrest Oli and Lekhak. But later at a confrontational midnight meeting at the prime minister’s residence in Baluwatar, all four security chiefs advised Karki that arresting the UML and NC ex-ministers could unleash violent confrontation on the streets. The interim government is in a bind. It has formed a committee headed by Gauri Bahadur Karki to investigate the killings last month as well as the arson and vandalism that followed. The question is: should it wait for the committee to submit its report before punishing perpetrators, or let police arrest those who can easily be identified in social media posts setting fire to Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court and other sites.&nbsp; GenZ’s Sudan Gurung faction has gone beyond its original demand to submit an 8-point ultimatum that includes the sacking of the Chief Justice and officials of the anti-corruption bureau.&nbsp; The Prime Minister is caught in the crossfire between managing the expectations of a movement that appointed her, and working within the framework of her interim government’s mandate and Constitution. But it is not just the government that faces challenges. The lack of clear consensus among youth factions and their outspoken collectives is surfacing.&nbsp; &nbsp;“This has been a leaderless and decentralised movement, and the traditional variables typically seen in a political revolt seem missing here," notes political scientist Sucheta Pyakuryal. “There is no organised structure, nor any ideological pull factor, therefore a big question is how much bargaining power does a movement like this have, and how sustainable will it be.” GenZ leaders seem to be in two main camps. Demands like the one for a directly elected prime minister, and the constitutional processes that can make for such an outcome, have emerged as a major point dividing the movement.&nbsp; Nepalis both within and outside the youth movement are watching Hami Nepal’s Sudan Gurung closely — especially after his recent interview with Al-Jazeera during which he expressed his interest to run for Prime Minister and seemed to not accept a win by political parties in the March elections.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251009201044_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251009201044_fcba7e92bb9a8812fd0ad4e9770d6f4d4189972de5229f91e9a832a26e388901" data-rendition-name="original" width="2916" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="One month on NT"> <figcaption>GROUND ZERO: The destroyed centre of Nepal's government with Singha Darbar (in green scaffolding), the Attorney General's Office, Supreme Court, and in the distance, Parliament building. Also seen are the nearly finished new Parliament Complex and the new Supreme Court buildings. Drone shot taken on Thursday morning. Photo: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Gurung’s participation in the NDRRMA’s disaster management meeting and manner of his interaction with officials at the event was met with both bouquets and brickbats. Interestingly, some of the criticism was youth activists themselves. &nbsp;“There's a lot of self-involvement and self-importance that seems to be guiding a fragmented young leadership, as opposed to constructively engaging in how to concretise reforms,” says Dhungel. “There seems to be very little stocktaking of what's happened in the past, and what's happened in other countries to try identify where lapses could be before they occur."&nbsp; In the absence of unified positions and level-headed leadership, the youth who spearheaded post-protest negotiations, as well as the GenZ movement in general, risk losing public goodwill already dented by the destruction of state property on 9 September. This also leaves an opening for political parties which are on the defensive and licking their wounds to capitalise on youth discord.&nbsp; Says Pyakuryal: “Post revolution, the political landscape becomes extremely unpredictable and therefore there is a risk of co-optation from several Machiavellian political actors including political parties, monarchists, as well as other forces, and that is concerning.” The immediate and visible transformation that Nepal’s youth expect will not manifest right away, and while there is a need for long-term political planning, the caretaker government must also undertake measures that have a palpable impact on the daily life of citizens. &nbsp;&nbsp; “While youth frustrations must be addressed urgently, statecraft isn’t just about fulfilling short-term goals,”says Pyakuryal. &nbsp; Many, including the youth themselves, now see the need for GenZ to have a more united stance and to move beyond making demands that the interim government cannot fulfil and start mobilising for elections — even by forming its own party.&nbsp; A strong showing in elections can enable them to enact the changes they want to strengthen Nepal’s democracy, and make future governments more accountable.&nbsp; This week, the Election Commission announced 16 November as the deadline to register new parties for the 5 March polls.&nbsp; Youth representatives have said that they want to be active participants in the political process, particularly in national-level politics. The Constitution defines ‘youth’ as being between the ages of 16-40. In the 2022 elections, the Election Commission stated that over 41% of locally-elected representatives were from ages 21-40 years.&nbsp; If young Nepalis are to contest the election outside the banner of mainstream parties, this leaves electoral aspirants little more than a month to decide whether to form a loose coalition with existing parties, a separate political party, or to contest elections independently. “This is first of a kind movement, where political language is digital, not ideological, where organising is done through online platforms and where there is no one leader spearheading the movement,”says Pyakuryal. “I don’t know if ‘anti-corruption’ or ‘political reform’ have a strong enough ideological pull to band people together in the long run.” Indeed, the RSP was formed only four months before the 2022 elections and cashed in on anti-incumbent and anti-corruption sentiments of voters — mainly driven by social media. But controversy and strife within their party means it has largely lost its public trust.&nbsp; Nepal’s September Uprising and its aftermath have shown that a majority of young people are entirely disillusioned with establishment parties and politicians, even using ‘ex-political parties’ as a phrase of reference. Any new young political figures that emerge from this movement and this election will have to work with mainstream parties in a multiparty democracy.&nbsp; &nbsp;“The reality of politics is that change is not possible without engaging with existing political institutions and actors,” says Dhungel. “To say that they do not want to engage, negotiate, or identify allies or proactively seek out input from at least the reform-minded individuals within each of those outfits is political naivety, and may lead to a lack of institutionalised reform.” However, Dhungel notes that the youth leadership would have more agency if they are clear not just on what they want to change, but about whether they are interested in active politics or civic engagement. “The window of opportunity that is fast closing is to really negotiate hard and push for internal reforms within political parties and across the electoral system,” she adds. Pyakurel also adds: “GenZ are smart and politically mature, I hope they see these loopholes. I am optimistic about the direction they take.”