This is the 84th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave Ambar Bahadur BK I am headed to Dubai. Prior to this, I have worked in Qatar, Malaysia, Saudi and now I am re-migrating. My family members have all voted, but I never got a chance to vote myself. I have never seen a voting booth. Because I have always been away during elections. &nbsp; My ticket is already issued. A foreign country called me, Nepal told me to leave and not be around on election day. Nepal is not changing its face, but we migrants change the face of other people’s countries. We are leaving, but when we return we want Nepal to be how we have imagined it to be – as developed as the countries we work in. That would make us happy.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260216070236_e11576fa6934131beedda091ffd7bb22dada6c99c428d4812937d79c7037b22e" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  What more can I say? I am going abroad again. I will again have to work hard. This is not a choice, it is a compulsion. Why would we leave the country if there were jobs in Nepal, if we got paid on time for work we complete? We work for a month and wait almost a year for the salary. A labourer earns Rs21,000 and a carpenter Rs28,000 in Nepal. But even for that we are made to wait. There are no savings. We leave so we can save. Recruiters and their agents cheat us. We rely on them because we are unable find the jobs ourselves. We have little education but even the educated are cheated. We are the sons of poor fellow-Nepalis. We are not from millionaire families. We migrate so we can support our families. I hope some day we Nepalis can fly out as tourists and not migrant workers. &nbsp;That will be the day when we can make enough money with pride in Nepal so we can go overseas for a holiday. As migrant workers abroad, we work hard. The tiredness after a long day’s work is worth it when we get our salary promptly every month. That money goes back home to raise our children. I am hoping good luck will follow me this time and my dreams will come true. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/overseas-nepali-vote-bank">Overseas Nepali vote bank</a>, Diaspora Diaries I have never voted Shreejana Lama  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260216070240_71abdf3ca5d51b9b2f43290f646946f0c7b59ef3a2b57444e9562d0e72be02ce" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, headed to Cyprus because there are no jobs in Nepal. Prior to this, I was in Jordan. I did not vote in the past because I was too young, but even though I am now of &nbsp;voting age I have to migrate just as election day approaches. I feel sad about it. I hope the new government will work to create meaningful jobs at home so we do not have to leave. There are jobs in Nepal but the pay is not enough even for rent and food. For us it is important to get jobs without paying high fees because we are leaving precisely because we do not have that kind of money. Migration makes sense if you learn the language and have skills, or else it will not be enough overseas either. It would also be good if migrants got jobs with salaries that are promised. In many cases, they find out the jobs were not what were promised by recruiters. If we face any problem overseas, the Nepali recruiter should be responsible and the government should help us. I am going to Cyprus for two years. When I am back in two years, I hope there are jobs in Nepal so I do not have to go off again. I also hope Nepal is cleaner. What will we gain by voting? Hira Kaji Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260216070240_833650f21e3922c713f9207129c804ddffc2afd6ee4b917e453ee7c4256cd265" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Sindhupalchok, and am headed to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/our-migrant-sons">Malaysia</a>. Prior to this, I had gone to Dubai but it did not work out and I returned after 7 months. I then re-migrated to Malaysia and was home for a vacation. I migrate because there are no jobs in Nepal. At least in an overseas job you can save some money. I have to take care of my family. All responsibilities are on my shoulders, so I have to go. I have voted once in the past during elections. There was no point to it. For people like us, votes don’t matter. It is for party cadres, not for simple people like us. There are no jobs, there is nothing. Elections would have mattered if there were good people to vote for. Let us see how the new candidates do. My two month vacation is over, but I have to fly out just before election day. The new government should create jobs so people like us do not have to migrate. &nbsp;We are not even asking for much, jobs that pay up to Rs20,000 would be good enough for people like us. The government should help Nepalis stranded overseas, their voices should be heard. When I come home to Nepal next, I hope good roads will have reached remote places in Nepal and everyone has basic service. I hope we will have factories and jobs, good health posts in remote areas so people don’t have to go to the cities. I can’t afford to wait for elections Chandra Bahadur Sunar  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260216070240_32a29e167ac6f2fcac3613bbc0b72273a69f8e8d75d617b62b5e55c8c591811c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I have been living in Bahrain for eight years, and before this I worked in Saudi and India. I never had a chance to vote. My three-month vacation is over. I have to resume work and could not wait for the election. Do I vote or do I work to pay my children’s school fees? How will I pay for household expenses in Nepal if I stayed to vote? I could not afford to wait. The new government has to address unemployment so that people can stay in Nepal. There are no jobs, expenses are high. Education and health should also be made affordable and accessible. The government can negotiate for better salaries for its citizens abroad. It should also increase to keep up with inflation. I will come back in 2-3 years. When I return I hope it will not take me 17 hours to get to Kathmandu from Nepalganj. Roads should improve, there should be jobs for the jobless, education for the uneducated. That’s all, isn’t it? My prayer for Nepal Shyam Bahadur Tamang  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20260216070244_ca58e3c9214fc91275ad85e354eb5d888c81edf02764bd49826acd423c049d27" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="migration DD"> </figure>  I am from Kavre. I am headed to Malaysia. I have worked in Malaysia before after which I went to Saudi Arabia for three years. Foreign employment has worked for me so far. I have voted once. This time, I could not wait for election day since my visa arrived. I will vote in future elections once I am back. I hope the new government can create an environment so we do not have to leave. If we could work in Nepal, we would be close to our families and happy. The new government should focus on jobs. And for those of us who migrate, the government should prioritise <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/valuing-moral-migration">free visa and free ticket jobs</a> so that migration is affordable and we can save. At the moment, no matter which recruiter we go to, they say it is free, but there is always a huge fee. The government should stop this malpractice. When I come home in a few years, I hope to see a new Nepal that has a strong government. I want to see reforms and big changes. There are too many protests and much instability. Even small issues lead to demonstrations, and lives are lost. I pray that this does not happen again. That is my prayer for Nepal.

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Nepal’s voters are migrating

Monday, 8 September marked the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">largest single-day, state-led massacre of protesters</a> in Nepal’s recent history. The indiscriminate firing of automatic weapons on the GenZ demonstrators for over three hours killed 21 people. Most were below 28, waiting to fly overseas as migrant workers.
This sparked the violence of the following day that ultimately left 76 people dead. Postmortem reports show that the protesters on 8 September were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/security-forces-targeted-protestors-disproportionately-hrw">shot directly in the chest, head, and abdomen</a>.
During the GenZ protests, the Nepal Army also killed 10 prisoners who were attempting to flee jails. Yet, no one questioned or condemned the Army for taking such lethal measures.
Brutality and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal">extrajudicial killings</a> by the security forces are not uncommon in Nepal. They peaked during the Maoist conflict, and recur often. What happened during the GenZ protests was a continuation of culture.
During the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Comment/masochism-in-madhes,563">Madhes Movement in 2015</a>, the K P Oli-led regime was also responsible for more than 50 deaths. Police forces shot and killed 16 people. In Janakpur, a police officer shot and killed a 14-year-old child, Nitu Yadav, at point-blank range while he was trying to hide behind some bushes.&nbsp;
According to witnesses, the masked police officer forced the child to the ground, shot him in the head, and kicked him while shouting, “Shoot this motherf**ker.” No police chiefs were held accountable for these atrocities. The state has still not released the Laal Aayog Report, which investigated <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/tikapur-s-protracted-trauma">killings in the Tarai</a>.&nbsp;
In 2026 the Armed Police Force (APF) shot and killed rickshaw driver Bijay Shah in sunsari while he was transporting goods across the border. From 2017 to 2021, at least 22 people died in police custody alone, most of them Madhesi and Dalits.&nbsp;
Police routinely described these deaths as suicides, yet this was never independently verified. In Shah’s case, the APF claimed without evidence that he died in a crossfire. Police institutions continue to function <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/mob-movement-and-mayhem">as they did under the Panchayat regime</a>. In the absence of proper investigation, there is impunity and the killings go on.&nbsp;
This lack of accountability means that the Nepali state has normalised killings by its security apparatus. When pressed about shooting protesters outside Parliament in September, Prime Minister KP Oli and Police Chief Chandra Kuber Khapung defended themselves saying, “Bullets do not have eyes.”&nbsp;
There was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/election-vs-escalation">no remorse or empathy</a>, and a refusal to accept responsibility. They failed to acknowledge that the state has a constitutional mandate to protect its citizens, including those accused of crimes.&nbsp;
Those in power routinely shift the blame onto protesters. In reality, police often initiate intimidation and violence at otherwise peaceful protests, as seen on 8 September. According to witnesses, protesters only became agitated after Nepal Police started firing tear gas, and shooting one of the demonstrators.&nbsp;
The Gauri Bahadur Karki Judicial Investigation Commission has not yet filed its report. But there will be justice only when then-Prime Minister KP Oli, Home Minister Ramesh Lekhak, and Kathmandu CDO Chhabi Rijal are held accountable for their actions or inaction. But it should not end there -- all police officers involved in the killings must also face justice.&nbsp;
No government or political leader in the past decades has tried to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2809">reform police to end their impunity</a>. Politicians in power and police forces maintain an unspoken, unholy nexus – from the local to the state level. It is a mutual protection arrangement. Those in power rely on the police to maintain their power and even prosecute opponents, while the police depend on them for political patronage.&nbsp;
To be sure, Nepal Police just reflects the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-story-so-far">state of the country’s democracy</a>, as well as its lack of commitment to human rights and the rule of law. Genuine reform and democratisation of the police force is needed to uphold human rights and the Constitution, and increase institutional diversity with greater representation of women, Dalits, Madhesi, indigenous and the traditionally excluded.&nbsp;
The <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18719">APF was originally formed </a>to suppress the Maoist armed conflict and is now used to quell public protests. It should be dismantled, and the post of Chief District Officer abolished. &nbsp;
The Office of the Attorney General and the National Human Rights Commission have repeatedly failed to address police killings and torture. A strong independent mechanism is needed to investigate abuses of power and prosecute those responsible.&nbsp;
The argument is that holding police to account will damage their morale. Actually, ending impunity and enforcing accountability would enhance the police’s public image and strengthen the institution, enabling it to maintain law and order without turning into a killing machine.&nbsp;
More importantly, we need to design <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/two-sides-of-the-same-coin">state institutions</a> to be empathetic. Only then will society embody tolerance. If culture of killing is accepted, it fosters violence. This is what happened on 9 September. The mayhem was no coincidence.&nbsp;
Police killings and abuse of power, and their entrenched impunity, have led to mounting public anger towards the state and resentment towards the system. If this continues unchecked, it will threaten the very stability of democracy that these institutions are supposed to safeguard. &nbsp;
Prashanta Khanal is an independent climate and transport policy researcher.&nbsp;

Policing the Police

At Budhanilkantha School Ujwal Thapa was a few years my senior. He was a quiet person who kept to himself; I didn’t know him very well despite being related to him because of that introversion and natural shyness. What we did have in common, coming of age in the 1990s, is our generation, GenX, which became weary, inured for the most part, to Nepal’s famously unstable politics.&nbsp; Counting the events of this past September, GenX has, astonishingly, lived through three people’s revolutions, one armed conflict, a flawed but hard won constitution, and a major earthquake. Ujwal Thapa, one of Nepal’s most cherished Gen Xers, despite his previous, youthful reticence, did not long remain a complaisant bystander against the backdrop of these extreme upheavals.&nbsp; By the mid 2000s he had become deeply political, but without the equivocation that so often accompanies politics. Thanks to his lived experience, he came to believe that the youth of Nepal are the key to our future. He believed in discerning wisdom (bibeksheelta), innovation, and nurture. He inspired entire generations, young and old, including GenZ, before his untimely death due to Covid in 2021. He was only 44.&nbsp; By the time of his passing he had started a tech company, and employed and mentored scores of youth. It is important to note that only after he had made a significant contribution to civil society did he turn towards politics, founding and then stepping back from the Bibeksheel Nepali party, which has now, after several complicated mergers and splits, been integrated into the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP). When the Ujwal Thapa Foundation set out to make a documentary on his life three years ago, no one could have known that it would premiere at such a crucial point in Nepal’s social and political history.&nbsp; Everything that Ujwal Thapa believed in still holds true. I think he would have been proud to see the youth of our country, GenZ, stand up for themselves, peacefully. He would have been grieved at the state condoned bloodshed, and, believing in non-violent protest himself, been deeply shocked by the savage revolution that followed.&nbsp; Most of all, I wonder how he would have reacted to the publishing of the blatantly elitist RSP proportional representation list - the party that many had pinned their hopes on, and that Bibeksheel Nepali has ultimately been absorbed into. That party now seems like it may be a chip off the rotten old block, ruled by men endorsing rampant nepotism, and outnumbered by people without scruples.&nbsp; Many of the names on the list and the rankings, in particular, disrespect the very spirit of a provision that was created for those competent individuals who would not otherwise be able to contest elections, due to lack of monetary and social capital, but whose marginalised voices are vital for inclusive policy making. There is still time for real inclusion, to embrace a more bibeksheel path, before the March elections.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa’s own, firm, ethical stances are clear in the The Man Who Shook Our Minds, translated loosely from the Nepali title Dimaag Ghhochne Manchhe. While long, at almost two hours, it is filled with thought-provoking and sage counsel. The film also offers very real insight into how Ujwal Thapa evolved into the icon he is today.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026011111018_eb596eb063dcaf0f67840bfa4ffa39eb27df2bf9ec1a3f9a1f531824c1b7a569.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026011111018_eb596eb063dcaf0f67840bfa4ffa39eb27df2bf9ec1a3f9a1f531824c1b7a569" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="670" loading="lazy" alt="Ujwal Thapa"> <figcaption>Stills from the documentary.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026011111018_65d9625d3a4865ca228425b7ce7b7b186ae5009313bbfab0ee65eada276aebd6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026011111018_65d9625d3a4865ca228425b7ce7b7b186ae5009313bbfab0ee65eada276aebd6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="670" loading="lazy" alt="Ujwal Thapa"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026011111018_2ff455c55722d153cafbd2d650e19584e38d7c098b109271bd106a55201f4fa0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026011111018_2ff455c55722d153cafbd2d650e19584e38d7c098b109271bd106a55201f4fa0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1600" height="670" loading="lazy" alt="Ujwal Thapa"> </figure>  It isn’t easy making a documentary after the passing of the primary subject. While there are many talking heads, the people featured, friends, family, fellow activists and senior politicians are all eloquent in their descriptions of Ujwal Thapa and his transformation from an engaged, civic minded entrepreneur into a committed political leader who among many other commendable things, believed in putting women first, and understood the crucial necessity for a welfare state that would serve its people. The main man is not deified, he is humanised.&nbsp; The feature is punctuated, and leavened, with moments of real humour as his infamous bluntness and occasional domestic haplessness are gently exposed. Another strength of the film is the profound love story between Ujwal Thapa and his brave, brilliant, incredibly resilient wife, Erica Adhikary, the heroine to a real life hero, and a major force behind the making of this film, alongside many of his stalwart wellwishers and friends, old and new.&nbsp; Sushila Karki, the Prime Minister, was present at the premiere of the film with members of her Cabinet. Candid and sincere in her opening remarks, she said she had wanted to attend the moment she heard about the film. She had known Ujwal Thapa, and she had mourned his loss, praying for him during his illness. She wished that leaders like him were here today to show us the way forward in a time of need. The film opened in theatres on the 9th of January, and is an essential viewing experience for anyone who cares about Nepal’s future and wants some insight into how they might make a difference.&nbsp; Ujwal Thapa was not perfect, but he was remarkable. He realised that being a civic minded citizen just isn’t enough. To make a real difference, one also needs to be principled, insightful, entrepreneurial, creative, self motivated, able to speak truth to power, uncorruptible, practical, well prepared, and, perhaps, most importantly, able to step back from holding power even after attaining it.&nbsp; The saying by Plato that goes “He who does not desire power is fit to hold it” was surely meant for people like Ujwal Thapa. One can only hope that in the near future more people embodying this description will, however reluctantly, come forward to lead Nepal. Ujwal Thapa worked hard to enable this, they must be out there. <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/veO1yVM4pS4?si=f0Lcbs1wasyqfnK1" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div> The Man Who Shook Our Minds is being screened at QFX cinemas across town. Sophia L Pandé is on the Ujwal Thapa Foundation Advisory Board. She is a writer, art-historian and filmmaker, advising on the economic and social potential of the Cultural and Creative Industries. She is Director of Development at the Kathmandu Valley Preservation Trust, and Founding Director of The Kalā Salon, a non-profit space for the arts.

The Man Who Shook Our Minds

Shantanu Dhakal wakes up to a cold misty dawn, dons his college uniform and fastens his tie, tightening it carefully so as not to dislodge the tracheostomy tube protruding from his throat.
Gingerly, he brushes his teeth, mindful not to hurt the wound on his left cheek, where a bullet tore through during the GenZ protests on 8 September in the highway town of Itahari in eastern Nepal.&nbsp;
Dhakal, 18, came home from college that day three months ago and then took the bus to Itahari to join some friends who were protesting in front of the sub-metropolitan city office. It was mid-afternoon, and the crowd was chanting anti-corruption slogans and holding up placards.
Like most young Nepalis, Dhakal and his friends had been angered by videos on social media of the offspring of Nepal’s rich and powerful flaunting their lavish lifestyles.&nbsp;
"That was the trigger for me to join the protest, it opened my eyes to just how widespread nepotism and corruption was," Dhakal told Nepali Times.&nbsp;
The police arrested a few students, angering the crowd even more. They massed at the gate of a nearby police station to demand their friends be released. &nbsp;
Dhakal was standing across the street from the police station when the first shots rang out. The crowd scattered. As he ran for cover, there was a searing pain in his left jaw. Blood was streaming and it took some time for him to realise he had been shot.&nbsp;
“I was bleeding profusely and couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, there was a ringing in my ears,” Dhakal recalls. “I collected myself and continued to run, fearing that I would be shot a second time.”
Dhakal collapsed some distance away, and a fellow protestor took him to a nearby hospital, where doctors bandaged his jaw. He was referred to Birat Medical Teaching Hospital, where surgeons immediately performed an emergency operation. &nbsp;
The bullet had torn through his left jaw, shattering the bone, teeth, and soft tissue. Blood had rushed into his throat, obstructing the airway so doctors first performed a tracheostomy, installing a tube in his throat to help him keep breathing. A week later, the doctors reconstructed his jaw with metallic plates, grafting skin from his chest and transplanting it to the lower left side of his face.&nbsp;
Dhakal spent three weeks in hospital before being discharged. But the relief of being home was marred by disturbing thoughts. He says, “Just sitting there doing nothing began to take a toll on my mental health.” &nbsp;
Since he was always interested in content creation and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@docsbyshantanu">producing short documentaries</a>, he decided to document online his near-death experience and post-protest life.&nbsp;
Shantanu Dhakal’s Instagram and TikTok <a href="https://www.instagram.com/shantanu__dhakal/">posts are simple, short videos</a> every other day about his treatment process, dressing his wound and cleaning his tracheostomy tube, attending events with others injured during the protests, and scenes from everyday life in his family farm.&nbsp;
The comment section has Nepalis and people from around the world reaching out to ask how he is doing and keeping his spirits up. Dhakal now has a caring social media community, and he uses the platforms to keep in touch with other injured protestors across the country.&nbsp;
Life is returning to a new normal. This week, he returned to college to resume classes after more than two months and is making up for lost time. He has adjusted to speaking and eating with the tube, although the pain never quite goes away.&nbsp;
“I can eat mostly fine, but it is still difficult to speak,” he says. Soon, he will go to hospital for his fortnightly follow-up, and doctors will determine when his tracheostomy tube can be removed.
Like other young Nepalis, Dhakal is now even more politically engaged and actively reads the news of the interim government installed after the GenZ protests.&nbsp;
With the 5 March elections only three months away, young Nepalis like Dhakal hope that the elections will throw out the old and bring in the new. He is among the more than 800,000 new voters who have registered.&nbsp;
“The most important thing is that we have stable government,” he says. “As far as candidates go, an ideal one for me would be a person who prioritises health and education. But if the candidates in my constituency are not up to mark, I may not vote.”
Dhakal along with other injured protesters and relatives of those killed met &nbsp;Energy Minister Kulman Ghising, who has launched his own Ujyalo Nepal Party, and he is cautiously optimistic about the work of the current leadership. &nbsp;
It is a different story in Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki is struggling to manage the expectations of various youth collectives while trying to convince the old parties to participate in elections.&nbsp;
While the UML and NC are actively trying to delegitimise Karki’s government as they prepare to hold their respective general conventions, they are also preparing to give out tickets for elections.&nbsp;
Self-proclaimed GenZ leaders who used Discord to elect Karki prime minister are putting up their own conditions for the polls, even demanding her resignation for failing to meet their demands. This is in sharp contrast to the feelings of many of those injured during the protests who want elections so the nation can heal, and move on.

Shristi Karki

A new normal

This is the 75th episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. My father was a country boy from Sarlahi, and my mother a city girl from Kathmandu. They had an inter-ethnic marriage, which was difficult until the two families gradually began to accept it. My parents, who worked in development, viewed the world through a social lens. They often traveled overseas for their INGO work, leaving me and my sister behind. We spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, or in rented apartments with guardians. Between Grades 1 and 10, I must have switched schools seven times. Our parents prioritised our education, and enrolled me in the most expensive schools. I was shocked by my school fees, and often wondered how they managed with their salaries.&nbsp; I wanted to become a businessman, so I could have the kind of life some of my well-to-do friend had. My family was not from a business background, and social services didn’t lend themselves to that kind of lifestyle. Now I realise what my parents gave me was already over the top, a truth that becomes clearer as I get older. Our family was getting along fine until our father died while working on a project in Dhading in September 2021. The official reason was ‘heart attack’. We do not talk about this much, perhaps as a way of dealing with the loss.&nbsp; He was our rock, and everything got harder. At least we had good people around us who reminded us to take care of our mother and to work hard. And we did. My sister and I made TikToks during the lockdown, initially in a joint account which reached its peak in 2022-2023. I had always wanted to be an actor, but I knew the film industry does not pay well. My parents also urged me to keep my interest in acting as a passion project. TikTok enabled us to showcase our talent for comedy. We figured out how to crack TikTok’s algorithm and stayed on top of trends. People liked our duo and the raw and authentic content. It required a strategy, luck, planning, and understanding the game.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251204121236_1afc10a8107e0aef5b94977860bc2cb138ddd1a100cadc7324da675b7ca0810c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="1778" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  We use a hashtag #NakarmiKhanalAF in all our content drawing from my parents’ last names although they did not need to know what ‘AF’ stood for.&nbsp; My first viral content involving a humorous take on a Marvel character hit over 500k. That fusion combining international trends with Nepali humor worked really well, and I started making it my niche, adapting content.&nbsp; My father was always thick-skinned and did not have to try to be cool or tough. He was unapologetically himself, sometimes to the point where my sister and I felt embarrassed. When he was invited as a chief guest at a cricket game, for example, I remember feeling proud to be the child of an ‘important person’, but he grabbed the mic and told everyone to start cleaning the ground.&nbsp; Many of our friends came from wealthy families because of the schools we attended, and he proudly lectured them about our humble background and the importance of social service. Growing up, we tried hard to get his validity. My proudest moment was gifting him a shirt bought with my first salary. My father did not get to see our rise on social media, but I know he is watching over us just as he always did. The first brand deal I got was memorable but awkward. It was for a grooming package for private parts. I used to think about how movie actors start their journeys with advertisements for underwear, and this was going to be my story, my ‘humble beginning’ as a content creator.&nbsp; They did not even pay me money but just gave me the items. Other brands started coming in and with them, money. I earned as much as Rs40,000 per content and tried to make one every day. This was a big contrast to my monthly salary of Rs35,000 in a clothing store. All along, I was acutely aware that fame would not last forever. Just like one of my singer friends Wangden had said in a podcast: he was going to have fun while fame lasted.&nbsp; After TikTok was banned in India, there was even more uncertainty about social media. The alternates were also not assuring: people running businesses had to close up or were stuck, and the political uncertainty was scary. This pushed me to think about migrating, and Australia was a safe backup. I uploaded content right upto two hours before my flight from Kathmandu. I wanted to have enough savings so I did not have to start working right away in Australia. I was buying freedom. Since I had to change schools frequently, Rodin was one of few enduring friends I had. He was in Australia and assured me that he would take care of everything, and he did. He was my family there, and I did not have to go through the initial struggle that other international students had to endure.&nbsp; In Australia, I have done multiple jobs over the last two years and completed my MBA. My interviewer challenged me to make him laugh with one of my content videos. He did and I started work the very next day though I know I got the job because a hardworking friend had recommended me. To the boss, I was just another Nepali who could work swiftly. I mopped floors, washed dishes, and served customers. This was Australia, and I hustled. But I knew there had to be more to life. The long hours and little sleep eventually caught up with me. One day I slept 14–15 hours straight, and when I woke up, it hit me that I should try networking.&nbsp; I reached out to admins of Australia-based Facebook groups. Some replied, some did not, some offered jobs that were not for me. Then came an email from 8848 Momo House, and I travelled to Brisbane to meet the owner Hom Pyashi.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251204121232_ef61cf49eaa208293eecc7e2c5c075644ca6dd4bb844881249889586ae91025e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1548" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  “Do you want momos?” was the first thing he asked warmly. He told me to stop by one of his new outlets and make a video. I did, and I was hired the next day.&nbsp; It was that easy, and I have been working there ever since. My boss would later share in a conversation that he did not hire me because of the video but because I was young and he saw hunger in my eyes. To him, I was clay that he could help shape. I am now the marketing head, and the chain is doing well. Content creation is still a side job that brings in money. But just as my parents said, it remains a side passion.&nbsp; Then came the GenZ protests. On social media I compared Nepal’s youth to relaxed backbenchers who finally act when provoked enough to get things done. I could relate to the rage and suffocation. A song I was featured in was supposed to be released just when social media was banned in Nepal, and that fuelled my anger. But from the onset, I was wary of the headless nature of this movement, there was no ठुलो मान्छे leading and no one would be accountable if something went wrong. There was so much uncertainty, and I am not comfortable with uncertainty. We were glued to social media as the protests happened, at work and in the gym. When we learnt of the deaths of young Nepalis back home, a part of me died. The grief of unexpectedly losing my father came back.&nbsp; I left the gym early because I just could not take it. My friend and I just drove quietly to a nearby waterside. We did not even sit together because neither of us wanted to notice that we were in tears.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251204121236_99d662d9b4239e22410217146f87d7bed694d6543fa62d3b145401a5cf1cc7aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  One of the messages I received was a GoFundMe link to support the victims. I shared it, but someone asked if it was genuine. That is when it hit me that I had a large social media following and could not just share things without verifying them. I removed the link. The only person I felt I could trust was myself, so I decided to start my own fundraiser. I felt emotional and helpless, and had to do something.&nbsp; I assumed we could raise around AUD5,000. I was wrong. Within hours, we had raised nearly AUD60,000. Fellow content creators Avash and Manzil from Minority Report had also started a GoFundMe, and we decided to join forces.&nbsp; Partnering with them was going to be a lifesaver because I was not at all prepared for what was ahead. Over 11,000 people contributed across our two campaigns, raising AUD514,386. But we had not thought through the logistical challenge, the online hate and the delays. We needed to release the money to the right organisations in Nepal, get complete information about the families of the martyrs and injured — our primary target groups.&nbsp; We faced a huge amount of backlash after a hate narrative instigated by a few people spread online. We just could not get our message across that it was not as simple as raising the money and handing it over. People believed what they wanted to believe. Internet hate can take you to very dark places, even when you believe in your cause and know it can bring some comfort to grieving families. You try to focus on the positive message, because many people did support us, but the hate and accusations do bring you down.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251204121232_3045b4b91371fa210362f49a8d9ff279e1bb1cbee9fb8cc0641dbcbd6594aa98" data-rendition-name="original" width="1320" height="2868" loading="lazy" alt="Things eventually work out NT"> </figure>  When I was paralysed by the internet hate to carry out even the most mundane activities like cooking and cleaning, my roommate Bibek took over. He even made me watch an episode from the Mahabharat capturing Krishna’s teachings on karma without worrying about the fruits, a lesson that did not just help me get out of that depressive episode but has become a guiding principle for life. How would I have emerged out of that darkness when I was battling with suicidal thoughts if people had not showed up for me? We worked day and night to find the right partners, and because of the large amount of money and the level of transparency we asked for, many influencers or organisations turned us down.&nbsp; This was not easy because we had our own jobs to take care of, our own bills to worry about that were not linked to the fundraiser. It helped that my team at 8848 let me deal with this during work hours, and assured me that they will stand by me no matter what. Thankfully, we finally partnered with Nepal Rising (Daayitwa US), a professional and transparent organisation that stepped in and saved the day. GoFundme finally released the funds to their account and it has begun reaching the right people. My sister helped ensure the money is delivered properly. As a final check, I speak with the families in Nepal and offer my condolences. I honour their loved one’s contribution to our country and we will make sure it is never forgotten. But no matter what we say or how much we try to help, the heartbreaking truth is that their young son or sibling is not coming back. The narrative is slowly changing. Slaps are now claps. But the trauma of the public hate is so great that it still gnaws at me, I have anxiety about attending Nepali gatherings like concerts here. I remember when a dance I had created for Bola Maya went viral on TikTok, with tens of thousands of people picking it up. A chef friend told me it was time to use that influence for a social cause. Those words stayed with me. As I navigated the backlash, I was also reminded of my parents who worked on social causes and asked my mother if they had faced similar cases. She had, and she reminded me that all we can do is stay focused on the cause and drown out the noise. Things will eventually work out.

Things eventually work out

The <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/DQtSOT6ilFC/?img_index=1">post on Instagram </a>has an image of Sudan Gurung. Over the top is the message: ‘We wont let this year’s election happen if Gen Z’s demands are Ignored’. The account’s bio is ‘Uniting Nepalese Through Independent Investigative Research.’ Post like these have become a template for the information ecosystem in the aftermath of the GenZ revolt in September. Social media feeds are saturated with content that uses multimodality of captions, video, audio, to convey alarm and warnings about how GenZ aspirations are being subverted. Research by MIT showed that on X false news reaches 1,500 people six times faster than the truth. Fake news goes ‘farther, faster, deeper, and more broadly than the truth’, researchers concluded. Narratives compete on platforms, and users gravitate to the shock-value of the news and not to factual precision or nuance.&nbsp; “On social media misinformation easily mutates into disinformation,” says media literacy trainer Deepak Adhikari. “The news we see on social media are often out of context, with little information that misinforms more than inform.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251203121236_6daaeaf8ed255fda4a431d0419d9ae1a0908259af14529835034ce48653064a9" data-rendition-name="original" width="1501" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Doomscrolling democracy NT"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251203121232_8a7a41b8bd1892137d1dd97fd1c1408d2879ff96fa69a4d6d5acff7239869d4b" data-rendition-name="original" width="1601" height="340" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ instagram"> </figure>  Indeed, today’s ‘Post-Truth Society’ is characterised by a media environment where users give more credibility to their pre-existing beliefs and emotion rather than objective facts or subjective nuance. Post-Truth does not refer to what comes after the truth, but rather a cultural or information environment where pre-held personal beliefs shape public opinion, not facts.&nbsp; Rumour, bias and propaganda have always been a part of the informationsphere, but what makes it different today is the velocity at which falsehood spreads. The news cycle is short, and before content can be verified the damage is already done.&nbsp; Adhikari says that pre- and post-publication fact checking can be a potential antidote. However, when a video with misleading content goes viral, and even after fact-checkers catch up to correct it, the fear-mongering, anger or hate has already spread.&nbsp; In Nepal’s social media, apparently everyone is tarred as guilty, or funded by a foreign government. Calls to dismantle federalism, restore the monarchy, or teach political leaders a lesson by supporting authoritarian alternatives are no longer fringe ideas discussed in private. They circulate routinely in the algorithmic streams legitimised not by evidence but sentiment. When misinformation becomes the default, nostalgia for a mythical prosperous past begins to look like a rational response. While these positions are not new, their algorithmic amplification gives them perceived legitimacy that makes it hard to estimate, or far exceed, their actual political support. “We have not highlighted the achievements of our multiparty democratic system, and the new generation has not experienced authoritarianism,” Adhikari explains. “Therefore statements like federalism is expensive and the monarchy was better have taken up space, because the evidence of the counter narrative is underreported.” There is a positive side to social media. The GenZ movement took on momentum, and the protestors organised and supported each other through the very platforms that are now full of content that can potentially derail the democracy they wanted to strengthen. Just like it was trendy to be revolutionary during the protests, it is now trendy to be skeptical and to distrust the very people who were installed in the interim government through online voting. Such is the architecture of social media: it rewards immediate reaction over reflection, and due to its interface design, it not only shows what could be relevant ‘for you’ but also tells you what others are thinking about that. The role of the mainstream press as the traditional gatekeeper of information has been superseded by the digital sphere — both in access and sharing. This poses new challenges because social media content may not be news, and just because a page claims to be a news site that does not mean it is journalism. Social media feeds are not chronological newspapers but an algorithmic marketplace. TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, YouTube all rely on recommender systems, now powered by AI to keep users on their platforms for as long as possible. The feeds then collapse the distinction between credible news, speculation, parody, and deliberate disinformation, especially in a politically volatile environment.&nbsp; Everything appears in the same vertical stream, formatted with similar fonts, voiceovers, and music, making a platter of content that they know you are most likely to consume. For Nepali users, this has created personalised and parallel political realities. Two people living in the same household may open TikTok and encounter completely different idea of the problems and solutions of Nepal. One is fed content in favour of elections in March, while another pushes conspiracy theories about anti-GenZ activities aided and abetted by foreign powers. None of these feeds reflect the whole picture. Each reflects what the algorithm has learnt will capture user attention. Academics have long found that social media sites do thousands of A B testing to silently optimise which colors, captions, or video formats users respond to most intensely.&nbsp; Tests help design the most addictive feeds. Interface interference allows platforms to limit discoverability of certain features such as the ‘Logout’ and ‘Privacy’ settings so the system remembers users preference for the next time they are scrolling the platform. When faced with such infocalypse, we have the option to withdraw and not engage with our feeds or our phones. But billions of dollars have been spent by Big Tech to keep us hooked. We need more structural revisions that integrate the need of a safer online environment. Media and digital literacy must be woven into both formal education and public institutions. It cannot be an optional topic or a workshop for a select few.&nbsp; Students must learn how algorithms work, how misinformation spreads, and how to verify information before sharing it. Adults need community-level programs that help them navigate the online world that now shapes politics.&nbsp; Content creators also must be held accountable. Profiles posing as news sites must also be brought under the same scrutiny as the mainstream press. Directives for social media journalism, a section in the Press Council’s Journalism Code of Conduct can be introduced as provisions that foster transparency and ethical journalism practices on social media. Creators should pledge to verify facts, cite sources, and clearly label opinion or commentary. While this will not entirely curb disinformation, it can be the first step towards a digital public sphere that can host democratic dialogue with nuance and facts.&nbsp; Says Adhikari: “Journalism doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and our knowledge space, academia, think tanks, research centres, archives, are scaffolding to support journalism, and we must make them stronger. The role of journalism can be to humanise the news and journalists can be storytellers, but the responsibility of the information ecosystem does not rely on journalists alone.” Ayusha Chalise is a communication and development scholar specialising in how politics is experienced in the digital space.

Ayusha Chalise

Doomscrolling democracy

Prime Minister Sushila Karki may look calm, composed and unruffled, but with elections only four months away, she faces mounting pressure from all directions.&nbsp;
Despite reiterating that her only agenda is to hold those polls on 5 March 2026, there are distractions and detractors. She faces pressure to nominate new ministers, the Supreme Court has rescinded her decision to recall ambassadors, industrialists whose electricity supply has been cut off are on warpath.
This is why in the past week, she convened the first meeting between GenZ representatives and the political parties, consulted with Nepal-based ambassadors, met the chief ministers of all seven provinces, met the chiefs of security agencies, and invited editors from the mainstream press to Baluwatar.
Her message was the same to all of them: my core priority is elections. But the message she got from most interlocutors: current conditions need to improve if elections are to be free, fair and peaceful.
The biggest obstacle to credible elections is that the three main political parties are convinced that they will be trounced, and are too busy resolving bitter internal power struggles.
The Maoists appear to be the most eager to face voters, the second echelon of the Nepali Congress (NC) is trying to convince the establishment Deuba faction convinced the party will face a humiliating defeat if the leadership is not overhauled.&nbsp;
The UML is still smarting from being ousted and the violence and destruction of September. But K P Oli shows no signs of remorse or a realisation of the enormity of what happened two months ago. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
The RSP could lead the charge for change, but with its leader in jail the party is floundering. New parties are being formed right up to the deadline, and some members of Karki’s cabinet and inner circle appear keen to contest. The newly-formed GenZ Front led by Rakshya Bam appears to be the precursor to a new party.
The GenZ-parties meeting last week must have frustrated the prime minister because there is disagreement within the youth movement as well as in the established parties (as well as between them) on the elections themselves.
Prime Minister Karki expressed some of this exasperation in her meeting with editors on Friday: “The original three demands of the GenZ were anti-corruption, governance and lack of job opportunities which was causing mass migration. But there are now new demands like directly elected prime minister to an interim Constitution.”
But she also applauded the youth for their political, legal and constitutional maturity in a short period of time and said the political parties were committed to participating in elections.
“In the GenZ I see a young Ram Chandra Paudel, a young Sher Bahadur Deuba,” she said, “They have the same energy and commitment to build a better Nepal.”
The prime minister comes across as someone genuinely interested in putting the country back on the right track, and her remarks are candid and not rehearsed. She said at one point: “Why don’t the party leaders just remove themselves, and make way for new faces?”
It is widely believed that Karki’s name was first proposed by Kathmandu mayor Balen Shah to the GenZ whose followers then voted for her on Discord.&nbsp;
Balen Shah sees himself as a kingmaker, and is irked that the government does not listen to him. This week he shot off an abusive social media post at midnight that he immediately deleted, lashing out at India, the US and China as well as the three main parties. He has now said he is not going to stand in elections, and will complete his mayoral term.
Karki and Shah have met several times in the past month, and the prime minister denied any disagreement: “I regard him as my son, and he sees me as an elder sister.”&nbsp;
She called her government a mediator between GenZ groups and political parties, and urged businessman Durga Prasai, who has been threatening protests to reinstate a Hindu monarchy, to contest the election.
Karki justified the recall of ambassadors, saying it was necessary because they were political appointees who had been bad-mouthing her caretaker government and were corrupt.&nbsp;
Some GenZ groups are impatient about the government dragging its feet on arresting former prime minister Oli and ex-home minister Ramesh Lekhak and others for the 8 September massacre outside Parliament. They are especially critical of Home Minister Om Aryal.
“They demanded we resign immediately if we could not punish those responsible for the 8 September killings,” recalled Karki, but that had to look at the overall situation and bring them to participate in elections.
Home Minister Aryal was also at the meeting with editors, and clarified: “We believe in the rule of law, and will follow due process. Our top priority was to bring the situation back to normal, and stop any violent retaliation.”&nbsp;
Asked about how investment can be revived after pictures of burning Hilton and Ncell spread around the word, Karki didn’t have a specific answer.
In front of the editors, Karki confronted her ministers about whether they had electoral ambitions. Home Minister Aryal and Finance Minister Rameshore Khanal shook their heads, but Energy and Infrastructure Minister Kulman Ghising stared unsmiling at his notes. Ghising is said to be in talks with the RSP to find a way for his Ujyalo Party to work together.&nbsp;
The Prime Minister appears not only committed to elections, but convinced that security, infrastructure, budget, participation, registration of candidates and voters are in place to make it happen.
She has no time to think of what will happen if elections do not happen. The scenario is quite unthinkable: elections are postponed till May, the interim government’s mandate expires, Parliament is reinstated.&nbsp;
This is the scenario K P Oli and his UML seem to be counting on, but which most analysts say, will lead the country into a long dark tunnel of extended instability.
Sushila Karki says she has no time to think about elections not happening: “We do not have the luxury of failure. We will work with everyone to make elections happen, because it is Nepal’s future at stake. And when a new government is formed, I will not stay here a day longer.”&nbsp;

Sonia Awale

Election countdown: 4 more months

A little more than one month into its six-month term, Nepal's interim government recalled ambassadors from 11 countries: China, Japan, Malaysia, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Russia, Spain, Germany, the UK, the US, and Japan.&nbsp;
Mostly appointed by previous governments, they have to return to Kathmandu by 6 November. The envoys who were retained, even if they were political appointees, tended to be women or from various ethnic minorities.
The recall has met with criticism back home. Prime Minister Sushila Karki is blamed for borrowing a page out of its predecessors’ playbook. Although it was a symbolically inclusive move in a diplomatic corps dominated by established groups, the government may have got its timing wrong.
On Sunday, however, the Supreme Court issued an interim order against government decision to recall the 11 ambassadors. The court questioned the neccesssity and justification of such a move, concerned that it could affect Nepal's relations with the host countries.&nbsp;
Karki has said <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/future-imperfect">her priority is to hold elections in March</a>, and by recalling Nepal’s emissaries from important capitals like Washington, London, Bonn, Tokyo, Abu Dhabi and Kuala Lumpur her government has cut channels of communication and support from development partners and with the international community.&nbsp;
Nepal’s anti-corruption GenZ protest and the devolution of the youth movement into <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/relocate-reallocate-recover">arson, looting, and violence</a> after the targeted killing of protestors in September put the nation in the international spotlight. And the interest was especially keen in neighbouring New Delhi and Beijing.&nbsp;
The Nepal unrest has sparked similar protests across the world from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos">the Philippines</a> to East Timor, Madagascar and Peru. But there is also worry in India where exposure of #nepokids on social media as well as corruption in high places could instigate copycat youth unrest.
And in China, there is still a lingering memory of the deadly protests in 1989 Tiananmen Square. But the Chinese also suspect that some in the GenZ movement have links to free-Tibet. &nbsp;
Foreign policy experts in Nepal reject conspiracy theories about foreign backing for the GenZ, characterising it as mostly triggered by home-grown outrage over chronic corruption of the governing elite.&nbsp;
Throughout its history Nepal has always had to balance the geo-strategic interests of its neighbours: the British in India and the Chinese Empire, and more recently independent India and Communist China.
When former PM K P Oli resigned, he had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/when-xi-meets-modi-and-oli">just returned from a visit to Beijing</a> and was a week away from making an official visit to India. A new Nepali prime minister typically makes the first visit to India, but Oli broke that tradition last year by going to China to sign the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) framework agreement.
"Oli was China's trusted partner supporting <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/china-syndrome">Nepal’s participation in BRI</a> and SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organization)," says geopolitical analyst Sanjay Upadhya. "Now, some in Beijing are apprehensive that there is external support for the youth protests that contributed to Oli’s sudden departure. It is perceived as a strategic setback for China."
Despite an ongoing dispute with India over a 364 sq km border territory, Nepal is heavily dependent economically on India with which it has an open border.&nbsp;
Rulers in Kathmandu have usually leaned over backwards to be closer to China to counterbalance India’s gravitational pull following a strategy of ‘equidistance’ between the two giant neighbours.&nbsp;
Growing American and Western disinterest in the region is making India and China more assertive towards smaller nations. Educator Dovan Rai says, “China is also becoming more aggressive and trying to show its presence in and around South Asia.”
She adds, “Nepal is an important neighbour for China, especially considering issues it regards as sensitive, like the Dalai Lama and Tibet.”
Indeed, the Chinese are said to be suspicious about the links that the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus">GenZ movement</a> was infiltrated by elements linked with Free Tibet or with US-based interests.&nbsp;
What must have especially raised eyebrows at the Chinese Embassy in Kathmandu was that the Dalai Lama’s office in exile in India congratulated Sushila Karki — the first time in history it has sent such a greeting to a new prime minister of Nepal.&nbsp;
Although Nepal’s two neighbours do not see eye-to-eye, both agree and are worried about instability in Nepal, and if it might trigger a refugee crisis, empower extremist factions, or attract Western interference.&nbsp;
Nepal’s September protests were preceded and succeeded by similar movements in the region and around the world. In light of this global eruption of youth frustration, and desire to lead from the front, the hardline governments of Nepal’s two neighbours are undoubtedly wary of the possibility of similar unrest within their own borders.&nbsp;
‘India advocates democratic legitimacy, while China prioritises control and predictability. Recent upheavals demonstrate that neither democracy nor stability alone suffices for sustainable nationhood,’ Upadhya wrote in a recent blog.
With early elections scheduled for 5 March, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/one-month-later">the main challenge for Karki’s transition government</a> is to maintain dialogue and establish consensus between youth groups, political parties, and other agitating forces to participate in polls — all while ensuring there is no covert external influence.&nbsp;
Indeed, with <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-democracy-keeps-doubting-itself">Nepal’s democracy</a> at stake as well as new political forces with competing interests set to battle it out in a new political landscape, experts warn that there could be powers that will want to fish in troubled waters.&nbsp;
Explains Dovan Rai: “Along with soft power, foreign countries including our neighbours could intervene in the online information space to promote their interests in Nepal. Fake narratives and disinformation could be spread &nbsp;through digital platforms. We must be careful and vigilant about our digital space.”

Neighbourhood watch on Nepal

Nikita Gautam was watching angry street protests from the terrace of her home in Gaushala on 9 September when a group started attacking the police station across the road. Soon, it was on fire. Police fired back, and a bullet tore through Nikita’s chest and hit another neighbour who was also watching. Nikita died on the way to hospital.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101712108_5257071d3688c9340a577ac80ec7af1b7e1130332c0cfcb9291583cdf981f339.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101712108_5257071d3688c9340a577ac80ec7af1b7e1130332c0cfcb9291583cdf981f339" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>LIVE ROUND: The police bullet that pierced 19-year-old Nikita Gautam, killing her, was lodged in the body of a neighbour on 9 September. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>  Nikita, 19, had just completed high school and was among 75 people killed during Nepal’s violent GenZ protests last month. For their families the Dasain festival was spent in mourning. Tihar will be just memories. Bhai Tika, the sibling ritual which this year falls on 23 October, will be especially poignant for those who have lost their sisters or brothers in the protests.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_c889f6e100068a0eda93014152d3cc0877a365feb6f525de1b3a2024c279e995.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251017121012_c889f6e100068a0eda93014152d3cc0877a365feb6f525de1b3a2024c279e995" data-rendition-name="original" width="609" height="1280" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Nikita with her brother Nirmal (right) at Bhai Tika before he left for Denmark two years ago. Photo courtesy: NIRMAL GAUTAM</figcaption> </figure>  Nikita’s brother, Nirmal, is studying in Denmark and the siblings were very close. He was trying to find a way to get Nikita also enrolled in college in Denmark. “We used to talk daily on video call, she used to tell me whatever she couldn’t share with our parents,” a distraught Nirmal told us. “She was taking photos and videos of the GenZ protests and sending it to me.” Nirmal had not been back for Bhai Tika the last two years, but was planning to visit this year. He rushed back to Nepal after finding out about his sister, but there is no Nikita to put a tika on his forehead.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_d085fdc310ff048f870c87c41b940407640488ab010cadca109f1d1725e870b0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251017121012_d085fdc310ff048f870c87c41b940407640488ab010cadca109f1d1725e870b0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1001" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Nikita's mother Kalpana Gautam is still in shock more than a month after GenZ protest that killed her daughter.</figcaption> </figure>  The Gautam family is originally from Chitwan, moved to Kathmandu 33 years ago and lived in a rented flat 200m from the police station at the Gaushala intersection. A month later, their mother Kalpana Gautam is still in shock. Nikita was a loving child who took care of the children in the neighbourhood. She says: “With Nikita gone, we cannot console ourselves.” Nirmal has now returned to Denmark, and cannot come to terms with the void that losing his sister has left. “There is nothing left to do for me but to relive in my mind the countless memories of my sister.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121012_5cdc08e8dce7c1fcc5c27ef3d26a48814b70234f023ddf4afdbe7dd77cc5aad0.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251017121012_5cdc08e8dce7c1fcc5c27ef3d26a48814b70234f023ddf4afdbe7dd77cc5aad0" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Unable to bear the memories of Nikita, her parents have gotten rid of almost all of her stuff except this photo album.</figcaption> </figure>  UMESH MAHAT On the same day that he got his work visa for the UAE, 20-year-old Umesh Mahat was also shot at the Gaushala intersection. Umesh’s sister Sumitra, 29, is the eldest of four siblings. Their parents are still in their hometown in Sindhupalchok. “Our family’s happiness has been snatched, there is a gaping hole that cannot be filled. There is no Bhai Tika this year,” says a tearful Sumita.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_45fb7e83a9ceb1a7d14364e97f4c5535271ae1a76238a4c384e6a5ff0f8da202.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251017121016_45fb7e83a9ceb1a7d14364e97f4c5535271ae1a76238a4c384e6a5ff0f8da202" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1002" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>TEARS IN HEAVEN: Sumitra Mahat's brother, Umesh, was killed when the police opened fire on protesters on 9 September. </figcaption> </figure>  Umesh was fun-loving, always respectful and willing to help others. He was close to the family and was the glue that held everyone together. He was good in studies and sports, and loved to play football. Sumitra’s 10-year-old son is still in shock, not quite comprehending the enormity of the loss of his uncle. Members of the family say it is pointless living in a country that kills its own. Umesh has been declared a martyr, but Sumitra and the family want those responsible punished, the individuals who ordered firing. “He used to tell me not to worry about his protests, that he is there and will always take care of the family,” recalls Sumitra. “He is gone forever and will not be taking care of anyone anymore.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_fb60559e8fe82d678065cdfae8c887f8e9ee1450cd9ee42ec5f2af8879c4902f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20251017121016_fb60559e8fe82d678065cdfae8c887f8e9ee1450cd9ee42ec5f2af8879c4902f" data-rendition-name="original" width="225" height="224" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Umesh Mahat. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  GAURAV JOSHI Gaurav Joshi, 27, was killed on 9 September. His sister Ayusha has been posting videos and raising her voice through social media. She recalls the last conversation she had with her brother where he told her he was coming home soon after the curfew was imposed on 8 September. Minutes later, he had been shot outside Parliament. His last words still ring in her ears, and they haunt Ayusha. Her posts on social media hold the police and previous administration accountable, demanding that the new government focus on justice and not festivities.&nbsp; While the rest of Nepal celebrates Dasain, tihar and Chhath the families of those killed in the GenZ protests are making rounds of Singha Darbar and Baluwatar seeking justice.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251017121016_34012d814325cdb16cd63001c683db37a28695deb89ab48729aad5e1a630a4bc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251017121016_34012d814325cdb16cd63001c683db37a28695deb89ab48729aad5e1a630a4bc" data-rendition-name="original" width="488" height="519" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Tihar"> <figcaption>Gaurav Joshi. Photo: SOCIAL MEDIA</figcaption> </figure>  They want information about who gave the orders and who executed those orders to shoot students point blank in the head, and chest with live bullets from automatic weapons. Families of the victims say their children were purposefully targeted and are angry that the investigation is too slow, and may absolve the culprits. Sumitra Mahat is making rounds of government offices in Kathmandu. She says: “We have been going round and round in circles for a month from one office to another. No one listens to our demands for justice. We want the perpetrators punished, but it feels like they are dragging their feet.”

Dark Tihar

In front of the ashes of what used to be Ward 8 of Harion village, a crowd gathers. Two men are talking in Maithili: “They say they want to get rid of the provinces.’&nbsp; The men were not part of the protests on 8-9 September, and have followed the news about some GenZ protesters wanting to abolish the 2015 federal republican Constitution that led to the establishment of Madhes Province.&nbsp; Barely three weeks later, communal clashes broke out 70km away in Janakpur during a Durga immersion festival over Dasain, and a curfew had to be imposed. The Tarai districts along the Indian border with Hindu and Muslim communities have become chronic flashpoints for tension.&nbsp; Between these two towns connected by the East–West Highway, the communal tension sits uneasily alongside earlier unfulfilled demands for provincial autonomy and at a deeper level the very idea of what it means to be a Nepali. It is notable that many Madhesi political leaders who have been quick to protest against Kathmandu for greater decision-making powers under federalism have been more hesitant to address the religious tension within their constituencies.&nbsp; This has led to criticism that the Madhes Movement’s promise of inclusion faltered when it came to protecting caste, ethnic and religious minorities. Muslims of the plains had supported the broader call for autonomy and Muslim activists were among those killed in various Madhes Movements. Yet, they now find themselves caught up in rising Hindu majoritarian sentiments. Political analyst C K Lal has warned in his writings that continued ‘othering’ of the largest minority group in the Madhes could tear apart the province’s social fabric unless deliberate efforts are made to foster dialogue and trust. The Tarai plains are home to 53% of Nepal’s population, and Madhes Province is the most densely populated region of Nepal. It holds a mosaic of identities, ethnic and caste groups. Muslims make up 12% of the province's little over 6.3 million population. Many of these groups share cultural and family ties with communities across the border.&nbsp; Then there are the indigenous Tharu and Rajbanshi, and Pahadi communities who do not identify as Madhesi. There is a distinction about who is ‘Madhesi’ and who is a mere ‘Madhesbasi’. &nbsp;There are those who were moved down in state-sponsored trans-location from the mountains to the plains in the past century, settlers from India, and those who have moved south to the plains for an easier life. The Madhes has hosted a rich tapestry of identities that have mostly coexisted peacefully. There are temples and mosques on the same streets, their calls for prayer often overlapping. The Malangbaba temple in the headquarter in Sarlahi was built to honour a Sufi figure and is revered equally by Hindus and Muslims in an annual fair in March.&nbsp; This diversity in Madhes Province and the Tarai in general also means competing political interests, and occasional friction. Caste divisions add to the complexity: with entrenched hierarchy within Hindu communities. Dalits form 15% of the Madhesh Province population and feel excluded despite the movement for political autonomy. The Madhesi identity is therefore pluralistic, and the Madhes Movement tried to encapsulate different groups for one political cause, although not quite successfully. The layers of othering that excludes Madhes from mainstream politics of Nepal is replicated inside the politics of Madhes as it fails to proportionally represent Muslims and other secluded groups. MADHES GENZ Despite the lingering effects of exclusion by the Nepali state, young Madhesis also joined the GenZ protests last month in a renewed attempt to make their voice heard.&nbsp; “In essence the GenZ protest had resonance because it captured the frustrations of &nbsp;Madhes and dissatisfaction against a corrupt system,” says GenZ activist Nancy Yadav.&nbsp; The protests on 8-9 September led to widespread destruction across the province, with 90 police posts, 207 government offices and dozens of vehicles set ablaze or vandalised. &nbsp; Imran Khan, 23, drives a rickshaw in Harion and says the Madhesi people are used to protests, but this is the first time he found his own peers also engaged in a political rally.&nbsp; “We talk more about politics now than before,” he says. “The GenZ wanted their rally to be peaceful, but somehow old political players caused more damage than good.”&nbsp; Aayush Karna in Janakpur concurs: “The youth here also marched alongside all of Nepal to demand for corruption free and a more just Nepal. But we were shocked on the second day to see how much damage was done so rapidly. Like the GenZ in Kathmandu the movement was hijacked, and that was not what the GenZ wanted.” SAME PAGE&nbsp; Nepal adopted its federal Constitution in 2015 to address decades of exclusion by Kathmandu, decentralise political power and give the Madhes and its minorities a political home.&nbsp; A decade later, the promise feels thin. In mainstream media in Kathmandu the Madhes is still peripheral, and often appears in the news lineup only in moments of crisis, floods, protests, or communal violence.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025101411108_9691e252b5ce723b6922f88418caa3eda43e02fba1a65c19043b1fd6ea10c7e9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2480" height="1715" loading="lazy" alt="Birjang"> <figcaption>A commercial hub and the road gateway to Nepal, Birganj though which 80% of the country's exports and imports pass through.</figcaption> </figure>  When the interim Constitution of Nepal was promulgated with no mention of federal restructuring in January 2007, Madhesi leader Upendra Yadav and his Madhesi Janadhikar Forum burnt copies of the charter and launched an indefinite strike across the southern Tarai in protest, blocking the East-West Highway and organising mass rallies for weeks. After several people were killed in Siraha and other districts, Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala agreed to an amendment of the Constitution to commit to a federal state structure. In early 2008, another uprising under the leadership of Mahanta Thakur was underway demanding concessions on electoral representation and to keep the push for federal restructuring on the forefront of the agenda. The loudest of all dissent from the Madhes towards the state was after the Constitution was promulgated in 2015. Rajendra Mahato set it alight in front of a crowd of supporters, declaring the document illegitimate and anti-Madhes. At least 45 people were killed between August and September as protests spread across the Tarai.&nbsp; The protesters demanded fair and inclusive representation of Madhes in state institutions, security forces, and the bureaucracy, reflecting their population share. They demanded the redrawing of&nbsp; Provincial boundaries to create a contiguous Madhes province stretching the full length of the Tarai from east to west, and electoral constituency delimitation based primarily on population rather than geography, ensuring densely populated plains weren’t underrepresented.&nbsp; They sought reform of citizenship laws, especially those restricting children of Nepali women married to foreigners, and formal recognition of Madhesi identity and cultural rights within the Constitution. Protesters stopped fuel tankers and cargo trucks at key border crossings like Birganj-Raxaul, cutting off the lifeline of a country still reeling from the earthquake. What began as a political dispute soon became a national crisis, and the unofficial blockade left hospitals without medicines and cities without fuel. India was accused of tacitly &nbsp;supporting the border blockade, deepening Kathmandu’s resentment.&nbsp; As shortages grew and international pressure mounted, the government finally yielded in January 2016, passing constitutional amendments on inclusion and representation. Only then, after nearly five months of paralysis was the blockade lifted.&nbsp; The Madhes Movemets of 1007, 2008 and 2015 is often flattened into ‘ethnic unrest’. The state’s lens rarely distinguishes between demands for dignity and threats to stability. When the state securitises dissent instead of understanding it, frustrations can mutate into sectarian anger. Communal tension becomes the grammar through which deeper political discontent expresses itself. “Inclusion is not a favour to the people of the Madhes, it is a right,” says GenZ activist Prerana Paswan. “When people speak of dismantling federalism are we being asked to step back from the GenZ movement?” There are various political parties calling for federalism to be scrapped because it is too costly, decentralised corruption, and that provinces are just proxies for the central parties. “But the need for federalism and provincial structures is more about addressing the country’s diversity and devolving power from Kathmandu,” says GenZ activist Bikashkumar Gupta. The Constitution acknowledges that Nepal is a multiethnic, multilingual, and multicultural state. . Provinces like the Madhes can promote their regional languages (Maithili, Bhojpuri, Awadhi) and cultural traditions alongside Nepali.&nbsp; Federalism has given symbolic and constitutional legitimacy to Nepal’s plural identity and represents a psychological and political acknowledgment that Nepal is not a single homogeneous state. For the Madhes, in particular, federalism represents a shift at least on paper in looking at the people of the region. “The Madhesi people will yet again be forced to take to the street if federalism is dismantled,” said a member of the Janata Samajwadi Party in Sarlahi who did not want to be identified. “We will not go back to being unseen by the Nepali state again.” Federal structures needs to be given more power over decision-making and revenue collection. Whether the next generation of Madhesis inherit mistrust or solidarity depends on whether their aspirations are met. The GenZ chants in Kathmandu and the curfew in Janakpur are not separate stories. They are different dialects of the same question: who gets to belong in Nepal’s democracy?

Unfinished federalism in Madhes Province

Nepal showed inconsistent performance at the T20 World Cup 2026 in Mumbai with flashes of brilliance, but ultimately snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. The <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/rhinos-hit-the-ground-running">near-win against England</a>, a test cricket team by an associate country, in the opening game showed promise and suggested that Nepal’s cricket was on the cusp of glory. The Nepal Premier League and a flawless performance in the qualifiers had raised hopes that perhaps the Rhinos could progress out of the group stage. However, subsequent losses against newcomers Italy and the West Indies were harsh reality checks about the true state of the game: there is a lot of catching up to do in the present, and structural changes to put in place to win big in the future. Head Coach Stuart Law summed it all up quite harshly: “To go from that high to then go to an extreme low four days later, that’s not showing mental toughness.” He was worried about the distraction of social media and lack of focus among players: “When you’re in cricket, do your cricket. It’s a difficult one for me because I’m a social media dinosaur, I don’t understand it. You don’t have to keep showing your face if we’re winning games.” Finally a late-night win against Scotland on Tuesday redeemed some of Nepal’s pride. A strong opening partnership, yet another rugged Dipendra Singh Airee innings and Sompal Kami’s vindictive 3 for 25 helped Nepal beat Scotland in their last group game at the T20 World Cup.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260218010220_6ca369f6aefc8b653c2572467f050e96b029c96b71fed5fb4213898c7d469325" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  There was nothing riding on the game but honour, it means at least that Nepal do not crash out on zero. The game ebbed and flowed. Scotland started well and looked set to score 200 before collapsing in the end at 170. The Nepal batting effort also started out well, but in the middle overs after some wickets had fallen, it looked like the team was whimpering out again. Boundaries dried up, the run rate creeped up to almost 13, before Airee and Jha woke up and took charge and got to 171 with a few balls to spare. The dhaka topi crowd in the stands loved it. A big part of the reason Nepal’s performance was so much better against England than in the other games was the mentality going in. Against England, Nepal were clear underdogs and could play freely. Even a nasty defeat would have been forgiven. Against newcomers Italy, these roles were flipped. Fans and perhaps the players underestimated Italy, a nation much better known for its football culture. But it had put together a smart, experienced team made up of Italian cricketers with South African, Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani and Sri Lankan heritage. And Nepal may have won a series against West Indies last year, but against the full strength Caribbean squad they were easily beaten.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260218010220_dc27adaa2102b493f940a97f9572769e695c2c1c41c8558fc4c23657cc1c3261" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  Another key difference is that Nepal was batting second against England. Against Italy and the West Indies, having to set a target rather than chase it, there was miserable batting failure. The front of the order — openers Kushal Bhurtel and Aasif Sheikh, captain Rohit Poudel — did not pace themselves well. They started much too slow, not able to take advantage of the first six powerplay overs. Airee’s 58 and Sompal Kami’s 26 off 11 against the West Indies were the only innings of any note. The middle order of Bam, Jha, Aarif Sheikh was not much better. Nepal really struggled with the ball too in that game, taking the one wicket against the West Indies and none against Italy. Of course, it is a huge ask of your bowling attack to defend anything below 150 in the modern T20 game. There were questionable tactical choices. Early wickets are essential when defending a low score. But key wicket taker Sandeep Lamichhane was not brought on until the middle overs, when the opponents had made too many runs to feel any fear. So they took him on and he had a really poor tournament, going for a lot of runs.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260218010220_b0301b854ddf235e1bcb84e8ed58060a68c8f3f13d3bb5a7596e1f51184e0d03" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  To captain Poudel’s credit, he acknowledged the bad showing against Italy: “It was not a 123 all-out wicket. We are professionals and not turning up for the game was disappointing.” Coach Law thinks that Nepal is going to get to the next step. If the team is ambitious, and hopes to compete at the elite level, then it cannot celebrate a loss against England. If it wants to win consistently, it has to shed the ‘Cardiac Kids’ nickname. It is better to win than to be fun to watch but lose. The T20 game is so brisk and so it is often won in the margins. Good catching and fielding can create momentum and save a team the 5, 10 runs that win the game. Nepal were uncharacteristically poor in the field against Italy and West Indies, often fumbling and leaking boundaries. Airee didn’t get any of his usual run-outs either. Nepal lost cheap wickets through run-outs and stumpings. All these unforced errors right through the match add up on the scoreboard.  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260218010220_1630c283f277631dfbddd3d7f29b930b124bde97c8f6a411cc2e1d089e452f45" data-rendition-name="original" width="1366" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  SKILL SET Mentality is important but sport performance ultimately comes down to skill. There looked to be a large gap, and perhaps one of the reasons is because the Nepal team is so full of all-rounders. Airee’s two-way performance is undeniable, but Bhurtel, Paudel and Karan KC do plenty of both too and they do not do it super well very often. If the team wants to get consistent, it must have consistent performers with the bat and ball. That calls for some of these players to focus completely on one skill over the other. You do not see openers bowling so much in the top teams as Bhurtel does. The main reason for this skill gap, and one of the hardest parts about being an associate nation, is how little cricket the members of the team play compared to the test nations. Said Stuart Law: “The longer format is where you learn how to play the game. The shorter formats are where you have your fun. We need some sort of multi-day games.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20260218010220_652ef3ba6fceab394a94c18cabd322dca8ba4a1266557660064339de9169c91d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1366" loading="lazy" alt="T20 World Cup Nepal"></figure>  The contrast in experience showed during the Italy game. Most of the members of the Italy team were well into their thirties, had played a high volume of domestic cricket and were more self-assured. So, while the young Nepali team were more athletic, they seemed to lack the skill and experience to know what to do when things were going wrong. The Italians seemed to go about their game with a lot more self assurance. In the long run, this means setting up grassroot structures, getting kids into formal training when young, and setting up a longer format domestic league. In the short term, CAAN could organise frequent series with other associate nations, and individual athletes could go play long form club cricket abroad. Surely some team in the world has to have a spot for a player like Airee, for example. It has been Airee’s tournament. Scores of 44 v England, 58 v West Indies, and now a match-winning 50 against Scotland that gives the travelling Nepali support something to cheer for. The tournament could have been a lot more, but it is wholesome to end on a win.

Nepal goes in and out of T20

The recent Nepali Times Substack post titled ‘Unresident Nepalis’ made me realise I also belong to the category of Nepalis who are technically Non-resident Nepali (NRN), but want to ‘permanently reside inside Nepal’.&nbsp;
Although this was meant as a joke, it is ironic that many of those who go abroad long to come back home, and those who have not emigrated cannot think of a good enough reason to stay back in Nepal.&nbsp;
As soon as the NRN Citizenship was officially introduced in late 2023, I had tried to apply for one but was shut down before even submitting my documents as the district administration office firmly told my then lawyer that I needed to prove “तिन पुस्ता” proof of three generations of Nepalis from my father’s side.&nbsp;
My late father was from Japan and relinquished his citizenship to become a Naturalised Nepali citizen in 2006. Three years ago, I dismissed the rejection with the thought that I will try again later when government officials would gain more experience with such applications.&nbsp;
Now, with an ailing mother and an energetic toddler, I felt the need to act soon and reached out to a law firm that specialises in NRN citizenship applications. To my surprise, they were positive after reviewing my documents, although they did warn me that we may need to overcome some obstacles.&nbsp;
In 2023, I had applied in the district office where my father had received his naturalised citizenship, but now the suggestion was to try from the district where my mother had received her Nepali ancestral origin “बंसागज” citizenship.&nbsp;
The lawyers pointed to the NRN citizenship mandate which clearly states that it can be acquired via a Nepali origin father, mother, grandfather or grandmother. The firm helped arrange the necessary documents required and the first step was to get a “सिफारिस” &nbsp;recommendation letter from my mother’s ward office.&nbsp;
This was the first hurdle as the ward office was unsure if they could issue such a letter, so they checked in with their head office, and luckily we received the go ahead. After persistent follow up from the law associates, they were able to provide us with a recommendation letter and we filled out the application forms.&nbsp;
The law firm wisely suggested that I take the paperwork myself to my mother’s district office while they stayed in the background in case I needed help explaining my situation.&nbsp;
With a big smile and cheerful tone, I dutifully followed the process and to my surprise, I found most of the officials ready to help without creating unnecessary hurdles. The application has to be signed off by the Chief District Officer (CDO) or Assistant CDO and just when I thought wow, I am going to breeze through this, one officer noticed that my father’s naturalised citizenship was from a different district and told me that I should apply for my NRN from there.&nbsp;
I explained that my father has already passed away and as he was not originally a Nepali, therefore it is not possible for me to get my NRN from his documents, as the requirement is ancestral “बंसागज” citizenship. The officer then went to check with their seniors and later told me that I would need police verification as an extra precaution.&nbsp;
Off I went to the police headquarters where they issued a sealed letter to be given to the police station that was in the same vicinity as my mother’s ward office. At the station I was told to get four people who are not my relatives to testify our documents are true.&nbsp;
This process happened to be more stressful than dealing with the government offices. At first, it turned out that most of my mother’s old neighbours had already passed away or had citizenship papers from another area. Others confirmed their availability, but later had conflicting schedules. Luckily, one very helpful old neighbour was able to arrange for enough people to verify the documents.&nbsp;
Encouraged that the end of the tunnel was in sight, I went back to the district office with all the requested documents, and after some initial pushback, I was finally referred to meet the official who signs off the documents before it goes to the CDO.&nbsp;
As luck would have it, the officials were in a meeting that lasted more than two hours, and I had to give my mother her insulin shot and noodles from the cafeteria in the waiting area.&nbsp;
When we were finally able to meet the officer, he didn’t even look at my papers properly and started questioning my lawyers whether they had even read the law, how could I apply for Nepali citizenship when I already had a Japanese passport, etc. He somehow assumed that I was looking to get a normal Nepali citizenship from my mother’s side, and we informed him that I was only looking to get an NRN citizenship, after which his tone became more apologetic and said that he would need to look into the law more closely.&nbsp;
It had already been three full days of working through each step of the process, and I had no problem waiting another day for the conclusion.&nbsp;
Perhaps because this NRN citizenship is a fairly new law and perhaps a lot of NRNs apply from the Nepal’s embassies in their country of domicile, throughout my experience, officials kept on telling me that a case such as mine has not been processed before.&nbsp;
My case being that I have never had a Nepali citizenship, my father having a naturalised Nepali citizenship and my mother being the only 100% Nepali in the family. I kept on saying that just because it has never been done before does not mean that it cannot be done, and sure enough, the next day the officer signed off on my documents, even kindly saying that they should have highly respected my application upon learning about my late father and his contributions to Nepal.&nbsp;
Although the intricacies of the NRN citizenship law have not been fully hacked out such as the transfer of land ownership, it is definitely a positive step in securing the rights and aspirations of fellow NRNs as many would agree that no matter where we go, “यो मन त मेरो नेपाली हो!”&nbsp;
Sonia Miyahara, Managing Director of Hotel Everest View, Trans Himalayan Tours &amp; Trekking Pvt Ltd &amp; Himalaya Kanko Kaihatsu Co. Ltd.

How I got my NRN Citizenship in Nepal

After his critically acclaimed 2023 book of essays सुन्यताको मुल्य on the state of women and children in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/the-karnali">Karnali</a>, paediatrician and writer Nawaraj KC has come out with a next one, Swasparsh. The new book is almost a sequel to the first one, with real-life stories drawn from his medical practice and social engagement. Both are powerful accounts of suffering, resilience, and the search for human dignity in Nepal’s most remote and underserved districts. The book opens with deeply disturbing yet real incidents of the suicide of a Grade 2 student. A &nbsp;frantic mother rushes in with a son who had already written a suicide note but was saved at the last moment. There is a desperate call from a young woman threatening to jump into the Karnali River.&nbsp; We meet children carrying immense trauma: a toddler who refuses to eat after losing her mother, and another child who stops speaking after experiencing sexual abuse within the family. The emotional climax comes when KC himself falls into depression after being violently attacked by a drug addict patient, leaving him with a serious head injury.&nbsp; But this is not a book of only sad stories of deprivation and poverty. It is how people who find themselves in the worst circumstances struggle to overcome what life has thrown their way, and triumph in the end. By just surviving against all odds, people emerge stronger, often with a renewed commitment to helping others. As a paediatrician working out of his native Surkhet in Karnali Province, KC's work brings him face-to-face with the human side of what a centralised government’s neglect and apathy can do to communities in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-dasain-in-kalikot">Nepal’s most far-flung region</a>. KC shows empathy not just to human beings in trouble, but also animals and underlines the importance of coexisting with the natural world. By helping others individuals ultimately help themselves. Although a paediatrician by profession, KC demonstrates a deep understanding of structural oppression, gender discrimination, caste hierarchy, class inequality, and regional marginalisation within the Nepali state.&nbsp; He also captures moments of tenderness, such as young couples supporting one another through hardship. How poverty can drive families to take heartbreaking decisions — like a patient forced to discontinue life-saving medicine in order to qualify for disability allowances needed to repay debt.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260217030252_ffd67815063cffe51a0310f10405a554f6094ba05564993f34086fe4b31543f6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1646" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  A former teacher is forced to beg despite receiving treatment, exposing the failure of conventional development models that ignore sustainable livelihoods.&nbsp; Then there are inspirational stories like the one of Mandire, who ran away at age 12 to work as a labourer in India, suffered severe burns while unloading coal, and lost a hand. Despite this, his infectious smile and fortitude transformed him into a local symbol of hope both in India and Nepal.&nbsp; Even in old age, he is always smiling and helping others less fortunate.&nbsp; Through Mandire’s story, KC explores the science of the healing power of a smile, the positive psychology of a ‘mental gymnasium’ in which optimism is cultivated through conscious practice.&nbsp; For example, a young girl from the historically marginalised Badi community which faces deep social exclusion refuses to accept her circumstances, and grows into an advocate for other disadvantaged children. A devoted foster mother dedicates her life to raising orphans, empowering them despite her own hardships. One of the book’s strengths lies in its accessibility. In Nepali language, KC blends science, philosophy, and lived experience into everyday language that resonates with villagers and ordinary readers. He comes across not only as a doctor and healer, but also as a teacher, nature lover, and social activist. He tries to introduce greenery to a remote school, and how this transformed children’s learning experience. He reflects that his patients are his greatest teachers helping to expand knowledge beyond medicine and technology into the realms of humanity and ethics. I read Swasparsh after witnessing the recent GenZ movement. The book’s recurring calls to youth, appearing at the end of several chapters, has special relevance today. KC reminds young readers that hardship is part of everyday life, but within struggle lies the potential for healing and growth.&nbsp; He encourages self-reflection, self-healing, and cultivating a positive mindset. Above all, he asserts that humanity’s greatest gift is its own human capacity henceforth solutions to all problems lie within oneselves rather than outside forces. The GenZ movement represents an urban youth revolt against traditional political parties and state institutions that have failed to deliver opportunities and accountability. Rising unemployment, widespread corruption, and frustration with stagnant governance have fuelled demands for new political alternatives.&nbsp; With the 5 March election less than three weeks away, many young people hope that new forces will be capable of bringing systemic change. Yet whether these forces can truly meet their aspirations remains uncertain. Established political actors are reluctant to relinquish power, while emerging groups often lack organisational depth and historical experience. In many ways, these new political actors resemble the people of Karnali: resource-poor, And in the periphery of power, yet rich in commitment and determination. Drawing from Buddhist teachings that recognise suffering, understanding its causes, and seeking pathways to overcome it, KC indirectly inspires today’s youth. Every problem contains the seeds of its own solution, provided we learn to know ourselves, care for ourselves, and care for others. Ultimately, the title Swasparsh means self-healing, self-reflection, and self-confidence. At a time of political uncertainty and generational change, this book speaks directly to Nepal’s younger and the emerging alternative forces — reminding them that transformation begins from within.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026021704020_1d2a855730bc14acbea596cce7b3a00b20f85c79c3a7d8ca46274a15eb642f59" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Swasparsha"> </figure>  Hisila Yami served as CA member, Minister of Physical Planning &amp; Works, Minister of Tourism &amp; Minister of Land Reform. At present, she is a member of Central Political Council in Pragatishil Loktantrik Party and is a lecturer in IOE Pulchok.

Essays on self-realisation and self-healing

Besides being an election year in Nepal, 2026 is also the year of anniversaries. It is exactly 30 years since the Maoists launched their armed struggle on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february">13 February 1996</a>, and it was on 27 April 2006 that the ceasefire came into effect after a month of massive pro-democracy protests.
Alas, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/not-ever-again">three decades on</a>, the decade-long conflict that claimed 17,000 lives has been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/ghosts-of-war">air brushed from our history</a>. For the survivors, and the families of those disappeared and killed, memories of loss and suffering are fading. The party that fought the war in Mao’s name has dropped it.
It is important on this day to remember not to forget that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=3203">violent decade</a> -- so that it does not happen again, and so the youth movement that has led to this election will also not be in vain.
The 8 September 2025 rally, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">the massacre that followed</a>, and the nationwide mayhem and carnage the next day were largely a result of public anger boiling over. Nepalis had been let down repeatedly by rulers promising revolution in the name of the ‘people’: from the 1990 People’s Movement I, to the Maoist ‘People’s War’, and the 2006 People’s Movement II.
There are some positive residual effects of the insurgency. One-third of the Maoist militia was <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-sibling-war-juna-rai,731">composed of women</a>, this empowered not just the female guerrillas themselves, but indirectly made a whole generation of young women aware of their rights.&nbsp;
The peace process itself resulted in the Maoists entering the democratic mainstream, and the induction of many of the guerrillas into the national army – a rare occurrence after a conflict.
The ceasefire was followed by an interim government, and the first elected <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-letter-and-spirit">Constituent Assembly</a> abolished the monarchy in 2008. Deadlock over the model of federalism meant a second election had to be held in 2013, and the new Constitution <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/by-the-way/new-constitution-should-adopt-inclusive-democracy-with-federalism-republicanism-secularism,538">finally promulgated in 2015</a>.&nbsp;
That statute was supposed to devolve political decision-making away from Kathmandu to autonomous provinces, improve inclusive representation of women and hitherto excluded castes and ethnicities at all three levels of government, ensure accountability and good governance to generate jobs and lift living standards.
There were seven governments in ten years after 2015, and tottering coalitions one after another failed to fulfil any of those provisions in the Constitution. There were subliminal gains in representation of women thanks to affirmative action, but as this election shows, women candidates are still used as proxies by patriarchal parties.&nbsp;
Since the two warring sides of the Maoist war both became the state, sharing power in dozens of coalition cabinets since 2006, they colluded to bury the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-unpunished-war-crimes">transitional justice process</a>.
The former supreme commander of the Maoists Pushpa Kamal Dahal (Prachanda) has become prime minister three times in the last 20 years. He is contesting this election from Rukum East, where he marked the 30th anniversary of the start of armed struggle on Friday.
The word ‘Maoist’ has been erased from the Nepali Communist Party which Dahal formed with more than a dozen other smaller leftist outfits. His main rival, Janardan Sharma, quit the Maoists and is standing for elections in Rukum West.
Both former comrades are competing for the hearts and minds of people of this former base area from where the Maoists went on warpath on 13 February 1996 by attacking a police station in Athbiskot, and simultaneously on targets in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7812">Holeri of Rolpa</a>, Sindhuli and Gorkha.
The former ideologue of the Maoist party, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/20-years-wasted-in-war,2850">Baburam Bhattarai</a>, was the architect of the revolution while Dahal was the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6369#.Y-XIii8w1KM">executor</a>. Bhattarai submitted a list of 40 demands to the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a> (during his first tenure as prime minister in 1995) but did not wait for a reply before launching the armed struggle.
The Maoists felt that the constitutional monarchy after 1990 was too feudal, and a patronage-driven parliamentary system too slow to bring about change. Besides, the democratic parties were accused of using state security to prevent Maoist candidates from winning elections.
The Maoists followed Mao’s Red Book to the letter, attacking police stations, looting weapons and targeting local elected governments, eliminating ‘class enemies' with summary executions.&nbsp;
They destroyed telecommunication towers, highways, bridges and airfields in remote areas. Threats forced health posts, schools, post offices to be withdrawn from areas where people needed them the most. The country’s development was pushed back decades.
Nepal in the early 1990s was ripe for revolution. There was inequality, social injustice, exclusion, and the political parties in Kathmandu were too busy squabbling to do their job. The Maoists wanted an end to the monarchy, but in 2001 the monarchy imploded with the royal massacre.
ABSOLUTE POWER
King Gyanendra succeeded his <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=8338">murdered brother</a> to the throne, and took the country back to absolute rule with a military-backed coup in 2005. Within a year, street protests forced him to step aside. And by 2008, it was too late to save the monarchy.
We can look back as far as we want to the roots of the Maoist conflict. It can be blamed on elected leaders post-1990 who abandoned the people once in power, the 30 years of partyless Panchayat system that stifled dissent and let social pressures build up, or even 100 years of Rana rule.&nbsp;
It was the prolonged indifference on the part of successive rulers in Kathmandu that fed public discontent. These accumulated grievances were also the reason for the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">September 2025 events</a>.&nbsp;
During China’s Cultural Revolution, Mao Zedong said: ‘The old has to be uprooted to be replaced with the new’, and that could almost be the anthem of the GenZ movement and this election.
The objective conditions that drove the Maoist insurgency 30 years ago are still evident today. And much will depend on the government(s) that will be formed after March.&nbsp;

genz-protests