The Gadimai Partnership Forest extends 4,150 hectares in Parsa district bordering a nature reserve adjacent to Chitwan National Park.&nbsp; Half of Gadimai Forest is made up of hardwood species like sal, sisau and khayar that have high commercial value. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17226">Illegal logging</a> by timber smugglers on the Indian border is now thinning the jungle. &nbsp; An on site investigation earlier this year confirmed what was seen on Google Earth Pro satellite images. We saw more than 30 tree stumps deep inside the forest with scars in the undergrowth showing where the logs had been dragged away from the once-healthy stands. &nbsp; Comparing satellite images of the forest in 2008 and 2021 show a significant loss of forest area as well as reduction in canopy cover in the last 13 years (pictured, above). Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-cost-of-peace-in-post-conflict-countries-forest-cover">The cost of peace in post-conflict countries: forest cover</a>, Dilrukshi Handunnetti “Our staff have not been able to adequately monitor the forest because of the presence of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/better-nepal-china-connectivity-helps-wildlife-smugglers">smugglers </a>in the Sonbarsha and Koilabhar Bindabasini regions,” says Gadimai Forest Management Committee chair Shahrum Gaddi. “We have seen a rise in illegal logging since the pandemic.” &nbsp; The annual report of Parsa’s Division Forest Office cites smuggling of timber to India from Gadimai and two other community forests in the district.&nbsp; Community forestry is considered Nepal’s biggest conservation success story and is internationally acclaimed. It was the main reason Nepal’s forest cover which at present is 46% <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/tree-mendous">doubled in 25 years</a>. Communities have managed forests relatively better in the mountains, but in the Tarai it has been less successful because of the abundance of expensive hardwood timber and proximity to India.&nbsp; Forest cover could be further undermined by <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/not-out-of-the-woods-yet-in-nepal">an amendment of the 1973 National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act in Parliament this week.</a> Global Land Analysis and Google Earth Pro images show deforestation of the 13,512 hectares of Sagarnath Forest Development Project in Mahottari, Sarlahi and Rautahat districts. The project began in 1978 and involved planting fast-growing saplings of sal, sisau, and eucalyptus to increase timber production, but much of the sal and khayar stands have been logged from within these forests. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914140936_c9a32b23ff453bce7bd9be53de61b9c43f185a45941df8711a8490f345511b9f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20240914140936_c9a32b23ff453bce7bd9be53de61b9c43f185a45941df8711a8490f345511b9f" data-rendition-name="original" width="961" height="640" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal's Forest Cover in 1992"> </figure>  Sarlahi resident Rajnikanth Jha, who is a central member of the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN) blames collusion between Sagarnath Forest Development Project staff, government agencies, politicians and the “forest mafia”.&nbsp; In March 2024, Brahmapur Community Forestry User Committee president Manoj Tamang was arrested on charges of smuggling sal logs. The Division Forest Office (DFO) also charged Tek Bahadur Basnet, Aashish Tamang and Heralu Pemba Tamang of the committee.&nbsp; Another community forest in Lalbandi of Mahottari, which was once just 2km from Jha’s house has now receded 6km away due to encroachment and illegal logging. He says that Nepal’s forest cover may have doubled, but the eastern Tarai has lost half the area of national forests.&nbsp; “From the highway the forest may look thick and lush, but if we go deeper into the forests most of the trees have been stripped bare,” says Jha. Forest researcher Nagendra Prasad Yadav estimated eight years ago that the Tarai jungles were being destroyed at the rate of 0.96%, equal to 1,756 hectares per year. Given the evidence on the ground, that rate is sure to have increased.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-must-save-nijgad-forest-to-receive-climate-funds">Nepal must save Nijgad Forest to receive climate funds</a>, Kashish Das Shrestha In Parsa alone, one estimate said illegal timber worth over Rs5 million was smuggled out every month. The DFO does nab smugglers from time to time, and cases were filed against 66 loggers, but it is the tip of the iceberg and those caught are mainly the hired workers. The Madhes Province Forest Directorate says 931 illegal logging cases were filed in the courts last year, and 523 were arrested – mostly in Bara, Parsa and Rautahat districts which have more forest cover than other eastern Tarai districts. Global Forest Watch estimates Nepal lost 4,570 hectares of ‘biologically important’ dense forest between 2002 and 2023 due to encroachment and smuggling.&nbsp; “There is inadequate protection and not enough rangers and police to guard the national, community, and partnership forests,” says Parsa-based journalist Ram Mandal. The reason is lack of budget and often collusion between local politicians and their criminal cronies. In Gadimai Forest, Shahrum Gaddi says he receives frequent death threats after timber smugglers are caught, and elected local government officials pressure him to release them.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240914140936_53d1bc3e84dabe6294f8b9b39175f28342ad46c24b4651b6cb33eaf28e230e10.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20240914140936_53d1bc3e84dabe6294f8b9b39175f28342ad46c24b4651b6cb33eaf28e230e10" data-rendition-name="original" width="655" height="504" loading="lazy" alt="Madhes Province illegal logging districts NT"> </figure>  “The police do nothing while logging and smuggling is happening right under their noses, they only show up after we have been assaulted by smugglers and after all the timber has been taken across the border,” adds Gaddi, who says he has written to the CIAA, Hello Sarkar, DFOs, as well as the Ministry of Forests. There has been no response from any of them.&nbsp; In 2021, timber traffickers injured four forest staff and looted their weapons during a clash in Bara’s Pipara, and were arrested soon after. Former FECOFUN president Bharati Pathak says smugglers set off fires in forests, steal logs and poach wildlife, by pretending to put out wildfires. “There is an established but under-the-radar network involved in illegal activities that must have smuggled millions of cubic feet of timber from the forests by now,” says Pathak. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">Safeguarding the soul of sal</a>, Lila Nath Sharma This network takes the logs to sawmills near the Indian border under the cover of night, then transports the wood planks across to Bihar. Trafficking gangs also use bicycles, tyre carts, tractors, vans, and trucks full of sand to smuggle timber, even modifying the vehicles to fit the logs in many cases. Sometimes, the logs are also floated down river into India.&nbsp; Says Rajnikanth Jha of FECOFUN: “Infrastructure, expansion of settlements and timber smuggling are destroying our trees. If this continues there will be no forest left outside national parks in the Tarai.” &nbsp;&nbsp; This article was written in collaboration with The Environmental Reporting Collective.

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The Tarai’s shrinking forests

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101120/636b713c9c7e80680e0600bfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1340"/><figcaption>Photo : MANISH PAUDEL</figcaption></figure>On 10 January, 24-year-old Dilip Mahato was killed for opposing the ‘Crusher’ industry in Dhanusha that was illegally mining sand from a river. This week, another Dhanusha native, former president Ram Baran Yadav, spoke to Nepali Times about the Chure conservation program he initiated.Nepali Times: Dilip Mahato was murdered in your home district, and your former constituency. What does his killing tell us?This is a grave crime. Dilip had been mobilising the villagers and talking about Chure conservation. The people were responding to it positively. Those who were earning millions from illegal mining of the river beds were alarmed. So they murdered him.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/crushers-of-justice/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Crushers of Justice</a>, EditorialWhy does the trade in boulders and sand have to lead to murder?The price of aggregate and sand for construction is sky-high right now. The materials are even exported to India. Money is at the crux of the matter. Everyone wants to become rich quickly by selling natural resources. Businessmen, mafia dons, police, local administration, and elected representatives are all complicit. One river is contracted out for Rs50-70 million. Malpractice increased after the practice of allocating money for Chure development shifted to the local administration.The crusher industry is also influential in politics: many have parliamentarians on their pay roll, and some owners are even MPs themselves. They do not care what the exploitation of rivers will do to the environment, or what kind of earth we are leaving behind for future generations. Dilip was fighting to protect our future, and he paid for it with his life.What environmental impact does this river extraction have on the Tarai? More than half of the Chure’s forests have been destroyed in my lifetime. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/flood-of-recrimination/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Rivers and wetlands are drying</a> in the Tarai, and the groundwater table has receded. Water scarcity is increasing in the eastern and central Tarai. In summer, people come to the highways carrying drums on bullock carts to fetch water. Fewer migratory birds winter here now. Human-wildlife conflict is increasing. The Tarai used to be our breadbasket, and we used to export grain till 40 years ago. That is no longer the case.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/crushing-tale-of-Chure" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Crushing tale of the Chure</a>, Sameen Raut and Dinesh PanthiWhile you were President, you established the President Chure Conservation Program, and there is also a Chure Conservation Master Plan. But the present government has not heeded the reports.The 20-year Chure Conservation Master Plan outlines activities to conserve the Chure. The government has included it in its National Pride Projects, but Parliament has not made any laws pertaining to it. That shows that the government is not serious about it.All the construction projects in the Chure negatively impact its natural resources, for example the East-West Highway that was built right across the jungles. An east-west railway is being constructed at a distance of 20-30 km from the highway. The proposed mid-hill highway runs parallel to it, and the postal highway is under construction too. Another proposed highway, the Madan Bhandari Road, is being built from Jhapa to Dadeldhura. The impact of these 4-lane highways on the environment was not considered. That shows the government is not serious about the environment.What do you say about the proposed Nijgad airport? The government just wants to destroy our last remaining jungles. It wants to chop down the forest to build a new capital in Kailali. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/does-nepal-need-a-4th-international-airport/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Do we need a fourth international airport</a> when international airports are already under construction in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/sick-airport/">Bhairawa</a> and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/pokhara-nepals-new-aviation-gateway/">Pokhara</a>? This is just immature. If we don’t listen to conservationists, the Tarai will become a desert in a few decades.Laws should be made to implement the Chure Master Plan, and an environment-friendly policy drawn up. But this subject is never raised in the federal Parliament. All three levels of the government should be active, and the government should understand that once you tamper with nature, the effects are irreversible.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19811" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Help save the Chure Hills</a>, Tirtha B Shrestha

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“Business, bureaucracy and politicians all plundering the Chure”

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a218d9c7e80680e041748jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1052"/><figcaption>Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>After degraded forests were leased out to local communities to protect and manage 40 years ago, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=7116#.XC7zVFUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s community forestry program</a> has won international praise for restoring the country’s tree cover.Barren hillsides have been replaced by thick forests, wildlife has returned, and farmers have prospered because of ample fuelwood and fodder. The 2015 Forest Resource Assessment showed that Nepal’s canopy cover increased from 29% in the 1990s to 45%, representing more than 1 billion tons of carbon stock.Although depopulation of rural Nepal due to migration played a part in reducing the pressure on forests, much of the credit goes to the 22,000 or more Community Forest User Groups across the country.“Community forestry under the 1993 Forest Act was an exemplary participatory model and a highly democratic exercise that gave villagers a clear mandate to protect, manage and utilise their forests,” says Bharat Gotame of WWF Nepal. “This gave local communities a sense of ownership, and they put in a lot of effort to protect and expand Nepal’s forest cover.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19200&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Fixing what ain't broke</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19252&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal's silent emergency: springs going dry</a>, Ajay DixitNow, as the trees mature into commercially valuable timber, the emphasis has shifted from forest protection to its management. The question is: who should manage the forests in Nepal’s federal structure?<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101128/636a21909c7e80680e041749jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2544" height="1222"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Some forestry experts believe not enough was done to train local communities in the scientific management of trees to prevent degradation and fires, and picking suitable tree species.“We focused solely on preservation, and as a result forest coverage increased without contributing to the economy,” says Krishna Acharya, joint secretary at the Ministry of Forests and Environment. “Our next step should be to see how natural resources can yield economic benefit for local communities.”However, environmentalists argue that nature should be protected for its own sake, and to look for narrow economic returns from conservation is myopic. If the contribution of new growth forests to eco-system services for water supply, tourism and as a carbon sink are calculated, they say the economic contribution of Nepal’s community forestry is vast.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Municipalities want to manage Annapurna</a>, Yuvaraj Shrestha<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/?p=19229&amp;preview=true" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Hiking up the benefits of tourism</a>, Sangmin KimThey also add that forest management works well in countries with greater transparency. Given the level of corruption in Nepal, especially after many <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/from-nepali-press/Elected-contractors,4182" target="_blank" rel="noopener">contractors got themselves elected</a> mayors, rural municipalities have been exploiting natural resources. Allowing community forests to be ‘managed’ would destroy the forests.The 2015 Constitution placed national forests under the authority of the provincial governments, but it also listed national forests as the common right of federal, provincial and local governments. Then the Local Government Operation Act of 2017 provided rural municipalities the right to protect, use, manage, monitor, regulate as well as formulate and implement laws. These contradictory provisions have created confusion about who now owns forests.To make matters worse, the recently drafted Forest Bill curtails the rights of Community Forest User Groups, the very elected local committees that were responsible for protecting the forests under the 1993 Forest Act.For example, the new bill purposes that local user groups cannot sell extra forest products without permission of the government, unlike in the past when they could independently fix prices, sell timber and other products from their protected forests.“Greater accountability at the local level helped us save the forests, but the new bill attempts to undermine that very foundation of our success,” says Bharati Pathak, chair of the Federation of Community Forestry Users Nepal (FECOFUN). She warns that the bill will result in widespread deforestation, with negative impact on the environment, biodiversity, tourism and local livelihoods.Community forests have been threatened ever since local and provincial elections last year. Many contractors, loggers and quarry owners got themselves elected to local councils, and cases of poaching, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17226#.XC7zVlUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">illegal logging</a> and encroachment into community forests have shot up.Back in Singha Darbar, joint secretary Krishna Acharya says forests will actually thrive under federalism because elected governments will be closer to community forests, and thus have better oversight over its protection.In theory, that makes sense. But activists argue that stricter laws have never translated into conservation. Federalism has decentralised corruption, and the forests do not stand a chance.The reason Nepal’s community forestry program worked was because of local user committees. Transferring ownership and management to municipal or provincial councils, or interference from Kathmandu, will invite corruption and destruction of forests.Activists say such confusion over jurisdiction could wreck Nepal’s achievements in community-based forest conservation, and add that some things ought to be left alone.“Whoever ends up managing the forests, the functional modality of the community forestry program that transcended political and administrative boundaries should not be dismantled,” states the former Director General of the Department of Forests, Bijaya Paudel. “If we do, all our efforts and investment will come to naught, and the very thing we take pride in, our green forests, will be lost once again.”Paudel recommends that the government include local communities for consultation in decision making, because without user groups there will be no preservation, let alone sustainable management for economic benefits.The advice of the WWF’s Bharat Gotame is similar: “Give credit to local people for the protection of forests for the last four decades, and build on that with better management and ensure communities are accountable.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/climate-climax,3651" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Climate climax</a>, Editorial<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/climate-for-change/the-great-himalayan-thaw/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The great Himalayan thaw</a>, Ajay Dixit

Sonia Awale

Who now owns Nepal's forests?

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

"It is hard to feel neutral"

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

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

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

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

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