Fresh off the Sagarmatha Sambaad international climate conference last week where Nepal committed to lofty goals for electric mobility, one would think the Finance Ministry would have taken a big leap forward to promote electric public transport.
But the bright side is that Finance Minister Bishnu Paudel did not take a step back and kept the status quo in excise and import taxes for electric vehicles. He did not build on the gains to push more aggressively on public transport.
Past tax cuts on electric cars boosted battery-powered vehicles, and this year Nepal was only behind Norway for the highest percentage of new electric car sales. More than 75% of vehicles sold in Nepal last year were electric — with 1,400 imported in just the past month because of worries that the budget would raise taxes.
Tax rebates, monsoon power surplus, time of day metering, and improved range of EVs have contributed to the phenomenal increase in electric mobility. Even though car owners make up less than 3% of the population, there has also been a massive increase in electric vans on intercity public transport routes. And regardless of who owns EVs, conversion helps reduce Nepal’s petroleum import bill — which makes up 25% of all imports. 
Taxing outsized luxury electric SUVs would have been reasonable, but much more urgent are tax subsidies on big battery-powered buses. 
Replacing diesel buses with an efficient electric public transport network would also lessen air pollution and reduce road congestion. Furthermore, the life cycle cost of electric variants is much lower than that of those with internal combustion engines (ICE), and will be even more affordable as battery technology evolves.
When Nepal Rastra Bank increased the ‘Loan-to-Value (LTV) Ratio’ for electric vehicle financing to 40%, up from 20% in March, it dampened sales of public electric vehicles — showing extreme price sensitivity of buyers.
The constant flip-flopping on EV taxes over the years because of the need to compensate for revenue shortfalls has confused consumers. The Finance Ministry often takes an easy short-term fix to boost government income by increasing the tax on EVs, but does not look at the huge medium-term gain from reduced petroleum imports. 
During the monsoon, battery-powered cars are using electricity that would have been wasted. The benefits to public health and national productivity from reduced street-level emissions with more EVs is incalculable. 
More importantly, the discourse on sustainable transport in Nepal is limited to fiscal taxes, when it should be on regulating transportation management. 
Nepal imports most of its vehicles from China and India, and both countries will soon be switching completely to electric 4- and 2-wheelers. We have no choice but to transition accordingly, and have the charging infrastructure and transport regulation in place. Furthermore, Nepal might soon be in a position where it could ban all private petrol cars and switch to only battery cars and tax them at the current rate on ICE vehicles.
For now, the government must urgently come up with a long-term financing and subsidy mechanism for electric buses, and it could start by using the Rs3 billion in ‘pollution tax’ that it collects every year from diesel and petrol sales.
Our National Transport Policy dates back to 2001, and it prioritises road infrastructure rather than transport management.
The former mayor of Bogata Enrique Peñalosa who implemented a successful bus rapid transit system for his city once said: “An advanced city is not a place where the poor move about in cars, rather it’s where even the rich use public transportation.” We could paraphrase that to ‘electric public transportation’.
Public transport is a public service, and the onus lies on the government to ensure reliable and efficient electric buses. At present public transport is almost entirely provided by private companies with the government only setting fares.
True to its name, the Department of Roads is all about building roads, and even that it does so poorly that 2,500 Nepalis are killed on dangerous highways every year. The Department of Transport Management keeps itself busy only issuing driving licenses, and is a hotbed of corruption with people waiting years for their licenses.
This year’s budget could have turned things around. The coalition government’s main preoccupation seems to be staying on in power and countering pro-monarchy rallies fuelled by discontent when it should have focused on improving public services. 
Sonia Awale

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Nepal needs a new green energy policy

Given the government’s revenue crunch, there were many ways Finance Minister Barsha Man Pun could have balanced his budget while putting Nepal on a path to green energy. But he chose the easy way out. Taxes on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ev-year">electric vehicles</a> have been increased once again, including for battery-powered public transport. There are no incentives for electrical appliances to boost power consumption now that generation capacity is going into surplus. Taxing electric SUVs makes sense since they are luxury vehicles, but making them less competitive vis-a-vis petrol cars means petroleum imports will not go down. There are no tax rebates for electric buses, scooters or home appliances to promote consumption of surplus electricity. Nepali households should have been incentivised to switch from LPG to electrical cooking. To be sure, the new budget was an improvement on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/1-step-forward-2-steps-back-in-nepal">the 2023-2024 tax range</a>. Last year’s budget had increased taxes on entry-level EVs, electric public utility vans and battery-operated microbuses, while reducing taxes for luxury SUVs and larger variants.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240531050512_26e7a6ea9c6c1c503abc74d56ee6098dc954ff3a4643dda6651cc68ee3461c0b.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240531050512_26e7a6ea9c6c1c503abc74d56ee6098dc954ff3a4643dda6651cc68ee3461c0b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1342" height="392" loading="lazy" alt="EV tax after new budget"> </figure>  Nonetheless, overall tax on electric vehicles has increased with excise and customs up by 5-20%, and there is a backlash from importers who had been enjoying a boom in sales. More than 60% of the cars imported in the past six months were electric. ‘There is no clarity in the government's intention to support and promote electric vehicles,’ said NADA (Nepal Automobile Dealer’s Association) in a statement. ‘The fluctuations in EV taxation don’t only affect the EV business but also discourage entrepreneurs who want to produce electric vehicles in Nepal.’&nbsp; On Tuesday, Finance Minister Barsha Aan Pun unveiled a Rs1.860 trillion budget for 2024-25 in Parliament and said it would set Nepal on an annual economic growth track of 6%. Yet, he managed to allocate only 0.46% of the total budget for environmental protection. In fact, he gave the green light to controversial projects like the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dam-dangerous">Nagmati Reservoir in Shivapuri National Park</a>, and the proposed $3.5 billion <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/guest-editorial/fight-or-flight">international airport at Nijgad</a>. Both would mean large-scale logging, and lack ecological and economic rationale. These announcements directly contradict Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal’s own commitment to achieve net zero by increasing forest cover and reducing petroleum use in the next 20 years, which he repeated at last week’s International Expert Dialogue on Mountains, People, and Climate at Chandragiri. In light of the budget, the prime minister’s speech at that event rang hollow: “We must build upon the momentum of past efforts to translate commitment into tangible action preserving the delicate balance between mountain environments for future generation… Climate change is a great concern for us who are experiencing the peril of our pristine natural resources.”&nbsp; Like previous budgets, Pun’s speech was sprinkled with words like pledge, promise, commit, undertake. He used the word गरिनेछ (will be done) 379 times during his 2 hours speech. विकास (development) was repeated 107 times. Energy and the environment barely made the mark.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240531050516_442012c6086fabfc0a6f5a9f0ae17be12ece7866204752255c0bf1652d2eb2d3.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240531050516_442012c6086fabfc0a6f5a9f0ae17be12ece7866204752255c0bf1652d2eb2d3" data-rendition-name="original" width="622" height="447" loading="lazy" alt="Budget Nepal"> <figcaption>Made with Flourish by Ramesh Kumar.</figcaption> </figure>  There were some announcements on renewable energy like the plan to add another 900MW of hydropower to the national grid. Nepal will be generating 6,500MW of power once under-construction projects come on line, and the challenge is to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/missing-pieces-of-the-hydropower-jigsaw">increase household and industrial consumption for which transmission lines need streamlining</a>. Switching to electric transport would also benefit public health by reducing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/epicentre-of-pollution">Kathmandu’s atrocious air pollution</a>. Kathmandu was the world’s most polluted city on multiple days in the past two months. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/71-3-fa3osch5">life expectancy of Nepalis might have increased</a>, but air pollution has <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/cleaner-air-longer-lives-0z0okfeu">slashed nearly 5 years</a> of our lives. At least a quarter of children visiting hospitals have asthma with school children in Kathmandu inhaling at least eight times more toxic air than the safety threshold.&nbsp; Nepal’s moral high-ground at the climate summit in Bonn next month will be diminished with budgetary policies that directly contradict our public commitments. A clear national policy that balances economic growth with ecological preservation would give our negotiators more weight when they demand adaptation or <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/what-is-lost-cannot-be-repaid">loss and damage</a> funds.

Sonia Awale

Charging Nepal

If there is one thing Nepal’s annual budget is consistent about, it is being inconsistent. In 2020, the government reduced the taxes on electric vehicles, the next one re-imposed it for electric SUVs while cheaper vehicles were still taxed less, this year Finance Minister Prakash Mahat increased the tax on smaller EVs and electric vans while inexplicably reducing the tax on luxury SUVs. &nbsp; By increasing the tax on entry-level battery-powered vehicles, the government has effectively discouraged the public from switching to clean energy at a time when Nepal is all set to have year-round electricity surplus. The decision also undermines the government’s own decarbonisation goals. &nbsp; Continued proliferation of diesel and petrol vehicles will also keep worsening air pollution in the cities, affecting public health. &nbsp; Customs and excise tax on electric cars between 50-100KW has increased by 5% and 10%, meaning they now have to pay 15% customs tax and 10% excise duty, the latter of which was not applicable before. Vehicles in this bracket include electric public utility vans, battery-operated microbuses and smaller e-cars which were gaining popularity across Nepal. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/an-electric-shock-to-nepals-energy-future/">An electric shock to Nepal’s energy future</a>, Ramesh Kumar “This is a blatant disregard for the country’s environment policies because the government has significantly increased the tax on more affordable EV options,” says environmentalist Bhushan Tuladhar. “To add insult to injury, they have slashed the tax on bigger vehicles. This is suspicious, especially as it does nothing for government revenue even if that was the reasoning. It’s not just EVs, even the taxes for higher-end 350cc motorcycles have also been lowered.”&nbsp; Indeed, mid-range and high-end EVs enjoy reduced tax rates or a very minimal increase. Customs and excise for 100-200KW EVs is down from 30% to 20%. Similarly, customs duty for 200-300KW EVs has gone down from 45% to 40% while excise remains the same at 45%. Customs for EVs in the 300KW or above bracket is set at 60-80% against 60% previously with excise maintained at 60%. EVs with 100KW motors will now be at least 20% more expensive.&nbsp; ‘It is deliberate sabotage,’ wrote Atmospheric Scientist Arnico Panday who is also a central committee member of the RSP, the fourth largest party in Parliament on Twitter. ‘The present leadership does not care about clean air, health, people, domestic energy, new technology or the country's future, &amp; probably got bribed by dealers of polluting vehicles in segments with popular EVs.’ The government has changed the tax rates for EVs five times in two years, disrupting the market and raising suspicions that the rates are adjusted based on political patronage of power lobbies among car importers. Especially egregious is the increase in the tax of electric micro-buses which had started becoming a popular form of public transport, and fingers are pointing to diesel microbus importers. &nbsp; “The tax hike is also unfair from a social justice aspect as we are essentially denying those who could otherwise afford entry-level EVs,” says climate activist Shilshila Acharya. “Our EV landscape is being shaped by vested interest groups.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/potholes-on-the-highway-to-nepal-s-ev-future">Potholes on the highway to Nepal’s EV future</a>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230609020628_e4164e59b5982f63d1246eaebbbb6c118a33f051112cdf9885d2c430fd64d862.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230609020628_e4164e59b5982f63d1246eaebbbb6c118a33f051112cdf9885d2c430fd64d862" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="2000" loading="lazy" alt="ELectric bus NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GOPEN RAI</figcaption> </figure>  By 2024 Nepal’s peak power generation capacity is expected to reach 4,500MW while domestic demand will only grow to 2,000MW at current rates of consumption. Much of this surplus therefore risks being spilled. And as of now, Nepal is not allowed to export more than 420MW to India which has rejected any and all Chinese involvement in Nepal’s hydropower projects. Tax incentives for electric public transport would reduce Nepal’s growing petroleum import bill, and improve air quality. Air pollution was the direct cause of over 42,000 deaths in Nepal in 2019.&nbsp; “Our policies contradict our climate targets, but more importantly they make no sense even from an economic point of view,” adds Acharya who is with the Avni Centre for Sustainability. She adds: “We want to reduce our trade deficit and increase the consumption of hydropower. Electric vehicles would have been the best strategy going forward and yet we keep changing our mind about taxing them.” At COP26 in 2021 in Glasgow, Nepal’s prime minister committed to achieving net zero by 2045 and increasing the sales of private electric vehicles to 25% by 2025 and 90% by 2030. Electric public transport would be 20% by 2025 and 60% by 2030. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/e-2-wheelers">e-2 wheelers</a> Another sign of contradictory policies was the signing of two petroleum pipeline deals during Prime Minister Dahal’s visit to New Delhi last week. Both India and China have publicly announced that they would stop manufacturing petrol cars by 2030. By that time, Nepal will not be able to import fossil fuel-powered vehicles even if it wanted to. But perhaps the biggest letdown is the disincentives on switching to electric buses. The budget provides no concessions to electric public transport. India subsidies electric buses, but in Nepal government ministries have been putting up obstacles on charging station to run 40 electric buses by Sajha Yatayat.&nbsp; Within the electric vehicle bracket, it is the electric buses that benefit any country the most. Reliable public transport is accessible to most people, discourages consumerism and reduces traffic. “Things we could do immediately to correct our course of action is reduce the tax on electric micros, the market will boom benefiting small time entrepreneurs and help finance electric buses to rapidly shift to cleaner energy,” says Tuladhar who is also the director of Sajha Yatayat. He adds: “We could use the Rs4 billion already collected as pollution tax, just 5 million will buy 200 electric buses. If you must tax something, increase the pollution tax which is less than 1% of all the taxes we pay, and then divert the fund for clean alternatives.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-goes-electric-but-conditions-apply">Nepal goes electric, but conditions apply</a>, Ramesh Kumar Corrigendum: Corrected some new car prices from print edition.

1 step forward, 2 steps back in Nepal

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18449c7e80680e0ac7b6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Chinese electric two-wheeler company Yadea's electric mountain bicycle, the Yadea SS800.</figcaption></figure>Even as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/e-vehicles-prepare-for-post-lockdown-boom/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">importers try to meet increased demand</a> for electric cars following the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/new-nepal-budget-sparks-electric-comeback/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reinstated tax rebates </a>on battery-operated vehicles, electric two-wheelers remain relatively on the sidelines.Now, here come electric bicycles which purists have problems with, but are catching on despite the steep price tag.In 2018, Nepal’s oldest bicycle shop <a href="https://pancbike.com.np" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Pancha Asta Narayan Cycles</a> (Panc) began to roll out Electric Conversion Kits (ECKs) that turn regular bicycles into e-bikes. Now the shop is also importing battery powered bicycles.This year, Kuzu Nepal, the distributor of the Chinese electric vehicle company Yadea’s two-wheelers, introduced four of its all-terrain electric mountain bicycles in Nepal: the Yadea SS1000, SS800, YS500, and YT500.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://yadea.com.np" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Yadea Nepal</a>’s customer base has grown steadily since then. It has sold 30 electric bicycles in recent months. Interestingly, the higher-end SS1000 and SS800 are bestsellers, says Ritesh Shrestha of Yadea Nepal. Most customers are avid Kathmandu-based long-distance cyclists, doctors, and expats.However, the company recognises that the reach of e-bikes is limited and that they may not be for everyday Nepali users.“Our customer base is largely people who know their bicycles, and people over age 35 who want a less taxing mode of a healthier lifestyle,” says Shrestha.He recalls some recent feedback from a young client who purchased an e-bike recently, but his father has been using it to commute to and from work:“The Dad told us that despite not being in top form, the rides are not stressful or tiresome, and his commute is helping him to exercise.”The primary objective of an electric bicycle is to enable a healthy way of travelling and enhance one's performance. Cyclists need not exert nearly as much energy pedalling, and can ride further without taxing their bodies.Among the four all-terrain e-bikes, the Yadea SS1000 and SS800 mountain bikes are for Nepal’s off-roads, while the YS500 and YT500 models are more suited to urban and city roads. The high-end Yadea SS1000 is the most expensive at Rs430,000, while the two city bikes are priced at Rs250,000 each.Yadea e-bikes use a Samsung lithium-ion battery attached to the down tube of the bicycle frame, which takes four-and-a-half hours to fully charge for the SS1000 and SS800 bicycles, while the YS500 and YT500 models take six-and-a-half hours to charge fully.The bicycles are equipped with the company’s independently developed 350W Fusion mid-motor located near the bicycle’s bottom bracket, which provides a maximum torque of 85NM.The controls of the bike, which allow the rider to manage the motor input according to levels, are on the left handlebar, with a display monitor at the front. The bikes have 11 gears that can be changed using a tab along the right handlebar.Nearly 80% of all registered vehicles in Nepal are privately owned two-wheelers, most of them polluting fossil fuel guzzlers, and contribute 8% to total emissions from transportation.And while battery-powered electric scooters and motorcycles significantly reduce greenhouse gas emissions, some point to the “redundancy” of e-bikes, as bicycles require no fossil fuel to begin with.“Electric bicycles, and electric two-wheelers in general, haven’t made an impact in Nepal like electric four-wheelers,” says Lokesh Oli of Olizstore, who has tested and reviewed several electric vehicles, including Yadea’s SS1000 e-bike, and posted videos on YouTube.The expensive price tag is a drag. Many viewers commented on Oli’s review of the Yadea SS1000 that they would rather buy new motorcycles than spend so much on electric bicycles.Other companies that promote e-bikes in Nepal agree with the public consensus and sell the bicycles without much exposure or promotion.“Considering the costs as well as exposure, e-bikes in Nepal, whether they be for the daily commute or more long-distance off-road travel, are currently for hobbyists,” he adds.However, Oli, who grew up cycling to and from school and around his village, as well as for a few years after he relocated to Kathmandu, is optimistic about the future of battery-operated bicycles.“This is true especially as bicycles remain the primary mode of transport for much of Nepal’s population outside the Valley,” he adds.People across Nepal own bicycles for travel and business, and access to e-bikes would reduce their effort as well as make them more efficient.

Shristi Karki

Electric bicycles in Nepal terrain

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"

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

Among the songs GenZ protesters were chanting at the Mandala on 8 September was Amrit Gurung’s folk-rock rendition of the Panchayat-era patriotic song, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iXnL31W93c">रातो र चन्द्र-सुर्जे जङ्गी निशान हाम्रो</a>. But amidst waving double pennants that day in Kathmandu were strands of Gopal Yonjan singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7D8P-g3Uw4" target="_blank">बनेको छ पहराले</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57SlGf4m7R4" target="_blank">देशले रगत मागे</a>. The irony is that the message of Nepali nationalism the musician was trying to convey 50 years ago with his lyrics carries a new resolute relevance in today's context: I am a son of Nepal who will never kowtow to anyone.&nbsp; You can behead me, but I will never bend the knee. &nbsp; I can withstand fire, but will not stand injustice.&nbsp; If the nation demands blood, I will sacrifice myself. My mother will not weep, for she is the daughter of a Nepali. This was pure patriotic poetry that only someone like Gopal Yonjan could write. They are inter-generational and immortal — speaking as much for the GenZ today, as it was for the early days of nation-building when they were recorded in vinyl and broadcast over Radio Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092210094_4d5f65bf3ba2d2823e3da8aff6a77f2b9aa4eff4b1e1b6a8eeed8c0bcb58e47b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025092210094_4d5f65bf3ba2d2823e3da8aff6a77f2b9aa4eff4b1e1b6a8eeed8c0bcb58e47b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan NT 1"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan was an adept flautist from a young age in Darjeeling.</figcaption> </figure>  Those two songs together have over 20 million views on the Music Nepal YouTube channel, and many of the comments have been posted after the 9 September massacre and the raging conflagration at the epicentre of the Nepali state&nbsp; They attest to the emotional depth of Nepali nationhood and love of motherland in every citizen of every generation no matter how dreadful the circumstances — and especially when the future looks fragile and uncertain.&nbsp; The release of Gopal Yonjan: The Man &amp; His Music by his wife Renchin could not have come at a more momentous time in Nepal’s history to celebrate this iconic legend of modern Nepali music. Yonjan would have been 82 today, and as a poet, lyricist, singer innovated and improvised using Nepal’s folk traditions to infuse modern arrangements, meld melody with harmony, and lend them words that made the songs eternal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092308098_76c4e4df756de0c1bea9858e1da0bcb6acb8145f27963e1679f5509a6ac2f078.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025092308098_76c4e4df756de0c1bea9858e1da0bcb6acb8145f27963e1679f5509a6ac2f078" data-rendition-name="original" width="2712" height="3900" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan Narayan Gopal"> <figcaption>Narayan Gopal with Gopal Yonjan, the ‘Gopal Duet’ at Swayambhu circa 1963.</figcaption> </figure>  HOMECOMING Renchin Yonjan brings us an intimate family album of historic photographs of Gopal growing up in school in Darjeeling, his arrival in Kathmandu and the decision to make Nepal his home. She quotes Gopal: ‘I was deeply moved by the very glimpse of Nepal. I was enchanted by the greenery of Kathmandu, the gentle nature of the people, their pure thoughts, and their hospitality … how wonderful it would be to spend my live in such a beautiful and serene place.’ It was a kind of homecoming for Gopal Yonjan, the land his ancestors left to migrate to British India. In Kathmandu he found kindred spirits and musicians as passionate about their craft as himself: Narayan Gopal, Nagendra Thapa, Ratna Shumsher Thapa, Shiva Shanker, Pushpa Nepali  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100920_99a97f6cd76c130d5df91a38ac236906bcb21ba6fc2d2d693ba51e0a97c045d4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250922100920_99a97f6cd76c130d5df91a38ac236906bcb21ba6fc2d2d693ba51e0a97c045d4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1071" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan arriving at Kathmandu airport in 1963 and greeted by Nepali singers Pushpa Nepali, Dilmaya Khati, Shiv Shanker Shrestha, among others. </figcaption> </figure>  Gopal Yonjan and Narayan Gopal hit it off right away, complementing and inspiring each other with their shared love for meaningful music. They came to be known as the ‘Gopal Duet’, and Yonjan wrote in Nepali in his diary on 21 April 1963 about their first meeting: ‘I was immediately struck by his talent and presence. There was something in both his artistry and demeanour that drew me in. It didn’t take long for us to draw close.’ Towards the end of his life, Gopal Yonjan drifted away from themes of patriotism and unity to celebrate music in its purest form in his Gopalaya Studio in Kathmandu. It became art for art’s sake.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100912_f9aeec8d96049c580a4b63789664e1ae80971d3be3c7809acfe51b84e3e31cd1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250922100912_f9aeec8d96049c580a4b63789664e1ae80971d3be3c7809acfe51b84e3e31cd1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1304" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Gopal Yonjan at his Gopalaya Studio in Kathmandu in 1992.</figcaption> </figure>  The words of his song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D8ZHg3wkvzw" target="_blank">मेरो गीत मेरै प्रतिविम्ब होइन</a> immortalised by Narayan Gopal has lines that give goosebumps to anyone who listens to them: मेरो गित भन्ने अधिकार छैन, गित को पो म हूँ मेरो गित होइन (I have no right to call this my song. This song does not belong to me. I belong to this song.) &nbsp; In Nepal, Gopal Yonjan also found a more complicated story. There were grand historical narratives of nationalism, bravery and glory, but there was an undercurrent of fear and control. Renchin writes in the chapter, Tell Me Where My Country Lies: ‘[Gopal saw] national pride slowly erode in the face of social exclusion, political silence, and economic disenfranchisement.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250922100912_57578ebebc7e405cf6ad3080611366893bee30cfc071567e6509038da866b2f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250922100912_57578ebebc7e405cf6ad3080611366893bee30cfc071567e6509038da866b2f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1043" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> <figcaption>Renchin and Gopal Yonjan in their garden in Kathmandu in the late 1980s.</figcaption> </figure>  Gopal Yonjan’s song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zru8yWSuRCI" target="_blank">भनिदे नेपाली दाइ मेरो देश कहाँ पर्यो</a> is ‘as much an elegy as a manifesto’ with searing lines like ‘Where is the river that ran red with Nepali blood? Where is the battlefield where our defenders wiped their khukri?’ Gopal Yonjan sings this song himself, reminding Nepalis of the sacrifices made to forge this nation, and for us not to squander them.&nbsp; In his song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pVKpsK6Wy8" target="_blank">लाहुरे</a>, Yonjan celebrates Nepal’s illustrious history written in blood both to keep the nation free and then spilling it to defend other countries. Today, the same song takes on added meaning of Nepali lahure shedding not blood but sweat and tears as they toil abroad to send money to families back home. It evokes the pain of separation, and an anger at an uncaring state that drives them to leave. Gopal Yonjan died aged 53 in 1997 in a New Delhi hospital, leaving a legacy that still defines the Nepali nation in ageless musical compositions. The US-based <a href="https://www.gopalaya.org/" target="_blank">Gopayala</a> and the Gopal Yonjan Foundation have worked to remaster some of the tapes and recordings that are in safekeeping at Cornell University’s Carl A Koch Library.&nbsp; Renchin Yonjan has collected some of that valuable documentation in her book, Gopal Yonjan: The Man &amp; His Music. Her concluding paragraph sounds prescient because of what Nepal has just been through: ‘Gopal’s patriotic compositions remain timeless not because they repeat old slogans, but because they ask new questions, and demand that we answer not with our voices, but with our lives.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025092210090_3d0b5ecad2313b09e83e0de91bf510004f1ff836d7e66f0543ccd49432bb6386.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="2025092210090_3d0b5ecad2313b09e83e0de91bf510004f1ff836d7e66f0543ccd49432bb6386" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="518" loading="lazy" alt="Gopal Yonjan"> </figure>

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

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;

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