<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dfc9c7e80680e0bd51ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"/><figcaption>ALL PHOTOS: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure>The historic town of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/05/03/harisiddhi-earthquake/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Harisiddhi</a> is just 2km from the Ring Road, and still bears the scars of the earthquake from seven years ago. There are ruins of abandoned homes, and concrete high rises have come up where older houses collapsed.As many as 850 houses were destroyed or damaged in this town, leaving 24 residents and two visitors dead, 150 more were injured. As Harisiddhi rebuilds, it has also been transformed from a historic city with heritage buildings that defined the core area, into one that is no different from the rest of Kathmandu.The town is on the highway to Godavari, now a jumble of multi storey<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/preparing-for-future-shocks,3472" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> cement structures</a> over narrow alleyways. Here and there, we catch a glimpse of some old houses with tile roofs, empty lots where houses once stood, rubble overgrown with vegetation that still has not been cleared after seven years.Many families who lost their homes relocated to other parts of the Valley, while others still wait for assistance the government promised for rebuilding.Harisiddhi is a microcosm of the Valley’s many historic Newa towns — how the movers and shakers were the first to get compensation to rebuild, while <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Women-still-waiting-%20to-rebuild-homes-and-lives,3118" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women-led households</a>, Dalits and some ethnic groups with limited ownership or inadequate documents have not benefited from the recovery (see below).“When they decided on compensation, they forgot to consider the traditional makeup of Harisiddhi. Even today many residents here buy and sell land in the old way. Not everyone has a land title, even if they have been living here for generations,” explains Ganesh Kumar Maharjan, Chair of Ward 29. “This has delayed aid for many people.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dff9c7e80680e0bd51bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="412" height="198"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721dff9c7e80680e0bd51cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667">Read Also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rebuilding</a> <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">resilience</a><a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/rebuilding-resilience-7-years-later/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer"> 7 years later</a>, Anil PokhrelInitially after the 2015 earthquake, the government committed to give Rs200,000 in three tranches to each family whose house was destroyed or damaged beyond repair. The amount was later increased to Rs300,000. The first installment of Rs50,000 was provided when the house owner signed an agreement with the National Reconstruction Authority (NRA), the second Rs150,000 on completion of plinth level construction, and the last after completion of the roof level.But to get the second and third tranches, a certification from the NRA engineers indicating that the house complied with seismic-resistant design and building code was mandatory. Land ownership papers were also needed, and many in Harisiddhi were deprived of their compensation despite years of scouring government offices.In Ward 29, 252 households qualified for the assistance, and only 86 had land ownership papers. Some 58 houses are still waiting for money. The story is similar in Ward 28 which is still getting enquiries from survivors.Land registration in Nepal began in 1965, but in many ancient settlements like Harisiddhi, the dense cluster of houses in a small area as well as unclear division of land among family members posed a problem in registration. The language barrier and other social factors meant that many still do not have land titles.“It is a shame that houses that were built on once-public land have got their land titles but not the original inhabitants who have been living here for generations,” says Bharat Maharjan, a researcher on Newa settlements.To be sure, the government did facilitate the registration of land for survivors after the earthquake, but the latter say the window to register was too narrow and the process unclear.“They should be able to start the process at any time. But when they define the time, it becomes difficult as not everyone may have money for the process. When people have money, the window to register may not be open,” says Rajesh Maharjan, Chair of Ward 28.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e029c7e80680e0bd51djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h5>Sita Kapali</h5>When the earthquake struck on the day of 25 April 2015, little did Sita Kapali think she would be experiencing aftershocks even after seven years.Sita, now 65, lives with her daughter Geeta and her grandson in a two-storey house outside the core area of Harisiddhi.The family was lucky that their old family house did not fully collapse and no one was killed. But the family could not afford to tear down the damaged home and build a new one. They had hoped the Rs300,000 assistance from the government would at least help in repairs.Two years after the earthquake, the family got the ‘red book’ and the first tranche of the housing assistance after their home was assessed. But the money was not enough to demolish the house, let alone rebuild. Moreover, the family did not have land ownership papers, which delayed the process further.“They said we did not qualify for the second tranche because we did not have land ownership papers. My brother made the rounds of government offices and finally got it made last year. But when the engineers came by again, they said we could not get the remaining money, they did not say why,” says Geeta.As per the clauses for housing assistance, the second tranche is released only after the reconstruction process has started and assessed by engineers. But this family simply has no finance to do that or get a loan from anywhere.Before the pandemic, Sita worked as a house help for families, but she has not been able to work since last year after her husband died, further straining the famaily’s finances.For now, the three continue to live in the old house mending the cracks with a slurry of mud and water. Her son and daughter-in-law have been living separately in a rented room since the earthquake because there is not enough room in the house for them. Her other son is working outside Kathmandu Valley.Says Sita: “It is ok for now but what will we do if there is another earthquake?”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e049c7e80680e0bd51ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e069c7e80680e0bd51fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h5>Babu Kaji Kapali and Hasina Kapali</h5>Babu Kaji Kapali, 70, has three brothers. In theory the four brothers had separated, but they lived in the same house. When the earthquake occurred, the three-storey house collapsed and the roof caved in.“When the government announced the assistance, we were hoping each family would get it but they said only one person from one house can get it,” says Babu Kaji. “But we were all living separately already.”He sold a plot of his land and took out loans to build a four-room house in his farmland. He hopes the ownership papers of this house and land will qualify him for the grant. “We have to live somewhere. It will help repay debts,” says Babu KajiThe land ownership of the old family house is with his elder brother who is Hasina Kapali’s father-in-law, but even they have not been able to get the money.When Hasina’s father-in-law fell sick, they needed to move him from the temporary shelter. The family pooled in whatever money they had, and took loans from the bank and community center to rebuild the house. But they have only received the first tranche of government assistance. She does not know why they have not gotten the money despite having the land ownership paper.“I have been to the government offices several times but I’ve lost hope now. Clearly they are not giving money to the poor, those with better economic conditions than ours got it already. Maybe because we are further away from the core Harisiddhi village they missed us,” says Hasina.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e099c7e80680e0bd520jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h5>Shrawan Kumar Maharjan</h5>Shrawan Kumar Maharjan has forgotten the number of times he has visited the ward office in the last seven years. In his latest visit last week, the 40-year-old craftsman returned empty handed yet again. He was there to see if the ward could help him claim the housing assistance.After their house collapsed in 2015, Shrawan and his family lived in the temporary shelter for years, waiting for the government assistance. Two years ago, he took out a loan and sold a plot of his land to rebuild the house.“This money is not enough to build a house in Kathmandu. And yet, I keep coming to the ward office to inquire about the government compensation because I would have at least paid off the interest on my loans,” says Shrawan.Like many here, the family did not have land ownership papers, so he filed for those at the Land Revenue Office. He still has not got the document.Says Shrawan, “We have lived here for generations, but we don’t have the papers. I don’t know why they cannot give us the money. If it is only about the land titles, then there are others without it who have already got theirs. The government has forgotten about us earthquake survivors.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114111152/63721e0c9c7e80680e0bd521jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1000" height="667"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><h5>Dinesh Maharjan</h5>Dinesh Maharjan, 31, was in Dakshinkali with his family when the earthquake struck. Because the temple did not suffer any damage, he did not think the tremors were strong. But when he drove through the city towards Harisiddhi, he saw more and more damage. He knew then that his old mud house did not stand a chance.For the next three years, the family lived in temporary shelters moving from one place to another. “We did not have land titles or building permits, so they did not initially give us the money,” says Dinesh, repeating a familiar plight.The family decided to move to the core area and build a house there, but they did not have ownership papers for this land either. They took out loans and sold other property.“We managed to get the first tranche after proving we have been living here for generations. We had to bring four witnesses for that, it was a lot of hassle,” says Dinesh. The family received the first tranche in February 2020, and the rest of the amount only in July of last year.He has submitted his application for the land ownership papers in the Land Revenue Office but doesn’t know how far the process has gone. “We have the compensation now, but my paperwork for land title is still stuck at the Land Revenue Office,” he says. “If I don’t get the papers, we will have to go through the entire process again the next time there is an earthquake.”

Sahina Shrestha

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Falling through the cracks

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208569c7e80680e0b54dfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Land being plotted in KAthmandu's Sankhu for sale. Photos: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption></figure><ul><li>A two-bedroom 185 sq m flat in an apartment block in Hatiban is on sale for Rs8.5 million. An average Nepali civil servant who earns Rs36,000 a month would need 20 years worth of salary to be able to afford it.</li> <li>Just to buy a plot of land to build a small house in the same locality of Lalitpur costs Rs16 million, for which the civil servant would have to pay a lump sum worth 37 years of salary earnings.</li> <li>A small plot of land by the highway bought 20 years ago in Bhaktapur is worth an astounding 7,000% more today. Even considering the devaluation of the Nepali rupee, that is sky-high appreciation.</li> <li>Another plot 4km off the Ring Road in Kathmandu that cost Rs10 million five years ago is now worth Rs50 million.</li> <li>A property in Kathmandu’s prime Darbar Marg area recent sold for Rs90 million ($750,000) per 33 sq m. This is one of the highest real estate values in the world.</li> <li>A house with land that was bought for Rs20 million in Tinkune six years ago sold for Rs80 million recently.</li></ul>A Nepal Rastra Bank report this year shows that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/home-is-where-the-heart-is/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">property value in Kathmandu Valley</a> is increasing at 27.7% a year, doubling real estate value every 3.5 years. This is despite average salaries in Nepal increasing by only 7.45% per year.Property value appreciation is even higher in other urban areas of Nepal, especially in Madhes Province and the Tarai towns of Far West Province. The price of real estate is doubling every two to three years here because of the soaring demand for land due to migration to the cities, plains and valleys from the mountain districts.There was a prediction that <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kathmandu’s property values</a> would decline after the 2015 earthquake, but the opposite has happened. Despite the government valuation for the property being much lower, land transactions are taking place arbitrarily, with no scientific basis for real value, or linked to productivity.Economists say there are many factors driving this real estate bubble in Nepal. Kathmandu Valley’s urbanisation pressure increased after free market forces were unleashed following the changes in the early 1990s, and people from across the country streamed into Kathmandu for education and jobs. The 1996-2006 conflict exacerbated this trend as people fled the fighting in the hinterland.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208599c7e80680e0b54e0jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>This process further accelerated further after 2006, and surveys have shown that one-third of all Nepalis have now moved away from the place where they were born. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepalis-moving-from-mountains-to-plains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Domestic migration</a> is  highest in Bagmati Province where Kathmandu Valley is situated, and where 47.3% of the residents are recent arrivals from outside. The percentage for Gandaki where Pokhara is located is also a high 40.2%, while Province 1 has 38.9% of its population from outside – mainly in the densely-populated Jhapa plains.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/paddy-planting-replaced-by-real-estate,3833" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Fuelled by remittance income</a>, this influx led directly to a steep rise in land prices. Adding to this is the unregulated loan disbursement by the banking sector which fuelled land transactions – leading directly to property speculation. This in turn tempted people with cash to convert it into real estate investment – leading to the indiscriminate ‘plotting’ of prime agricultural land in Kathmandu, Pokhara, Chitwan and other urban centres.Real estate transactions do not need to be routed through companies, and since anyone can be involved, this has opened up opportunities for buying and selling by bankers, politicians contractors and others who have inside information on future infrastructure projects. Even the Nepal Army is involved in real estate business, turning its property in Kirtipur into a housing colony.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15834#.Yf3eCy2B3ow" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Banks are in on</a> this unregulated real estate speculation. They have distributed loans worth Rs516 billion, which is a full 11% of their entire portfolios. More than 16% of overdraft facilities also mostly go for real estate transactions. Two-thirds of all loans have property as collateral. Even loans given for agriculture are diverted to property market. In the past three years, there has been a 60% increase in loans for agriculture projects, but neither farm production not productivity have not gone up in that period.In fact, one of the reasons for the liquidity crisis in the banking sector today is due to over-lending for land loans. These loans are not invested in productive sectors, they do not create jobs, or contribute to the economy. They just recycle cash, creating nothing but capital gain for those for whom gambling in real estate is a fulltime occupation.This trend is driven by unbridled greed which the government and the regulators are unable or unwilling to control because they themselves benefit from it. The end result is that it has distorted Nepal’s economy and created a vicious cycle, with the danger that the artificial bubble could burst at any time.Former finance secretary Rameshore Khanal says that most governments try to regulate the property market to make housing affordable to citizens, as well as to manage urbanisation.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-struggles-to-balance-nature-and-industry/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal struggles to balance nature and industries</a>, Ramesh Kumar“As long as banks are careful about giving out loans for land, property prices can be kept in check,” Khanal says. “In fact Nepal Rastra Bank should immediately stop allowing borrowers to put land as collateral to buy more land, and for home owners to get a loan to amass more property – because it is an abuse of the savings that citizens deposit in banks.”However, the central bank is unlikely to agree to such measures because its own officials have too much personal interest tied up with real estate. A private bank official who sanctioned a loan for a housing colony in Bhaisepati recently bought a lucrative 1 ropani plot for himself. Without any extra effort, and with low capital gains tax, it made sense for him to make the personal investment even though there was a clear conflict of interest.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/6372085c9c7e80680e0b54e1jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Nepal Rastra Bank governor Maha Prasad Adhikari himself has invested in property in Lalipur, Jhapa, Heatuda and elsewhere. Ministers, ex-ministers, politicians, senior civil servants and Supreme Court justices own property that exceed the land ownership ceiling.The unrealistic price of land has impacted on the government’s infrastructure development plans and private sector investment in hydropower, and other projects. It is now established practice for land owners, speculators, middle men and the land mafia to milk the government in infrastructure projects.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Hiding their head in the sand</a>, Ramu SapkotaThe government spends Rs 20 billion or more every year just in acquiring land for infrastructure projects. Bhairawa International Airport cost only Rs7 billion to build, but the government had to pay out Rs23.58 billion just in acquiring land for the project. Even the 2.38 km Nagdhunga Tunnel project has had to pay as much as Rs4.2 million per ana (33 sq m) of land.Twenty years ago, during his second tenure as prime minister, Sher Bahadur Deuba got Parliament to announce a ground-breaking lowering of the threshold for land ownership, and also stipulated that land should be used for none other than the designated purpose. The law was never properly implemented, and to date the government does not even have a unified database of land ownership in the country.The real estate bubble is so lucrative that most companies that have gone bankrupt because of falling business have managed to stay afloat because of the increased value of the property they own. Nepal has been growing at an average of 4% a year for the past two decades, but this is not reflected in manufacturing or productivity.“Unless we stop this vicious cycle and prevent investment in real estate speculation that is supposed to go into the productive sector, the bubble in Nepal’s economy is going to burst sooner or later,” says economist Dilli Raj Khanal.Those with ancestral property in the city centre, and those specialising in buying and selling real estate have become overnight billionaires. This is feeding the market in luxury items, mainly SUVs. In the past four months of the last fiscal year alone, despite an economic downturn, Nepal imported Rs57 billion worth of vehicles and spare parts.Imports have now risen so sharply in the past two years at a time when exports and remittances have fallen, that Nepal’s hard currency reserves have declined to their lowest level in decades, and able to finance only 6 months worth of imports. This, in turn, has increased the income gap between the poorest and richest Nepalis.Although there are no figures to prove that the gap between the have’s and have not’s has grown in Nepal, it is clear that the astronomical profits that can be made from real estate transactions have made a limited number of Nepalis extremely wealthy.One of the reasons for the real estate bubble is that the tax on land transactions in Nepal is so low. In fact, if a land is sold within five years of being bought, the seller only has to pay 5% of the capital gain tax to the government. If the land is sold after more than five years, the tax is only 2.5%. Compare this to income tax up to 36% that individuals pay in Nepal, and there is a transaction fee of 25% in most businesses.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ground-reality-of-landlessness-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ground reality of landlessness in Nepal</a>, Rabi GiriThis is besides the tendency to bribe officials to undervalue the rate at which property is sold, so as to reduce the taxable amount. In fact staff at the land tax office as what the “unofficial” amount for property sales is, presuming that it is undervalued.“Raising the tax rate for real estate transactions will immediately discourage property speculators, reduce the number of transactions, and put a check on the runaway increase in land prices,” admits Gunakar Bhatta of Nepal Rastra Bank.The reason property transactions have not gone down despite sky-rocketing real estate prices is that Nepal’s economy is run mainly through informal channels. Many unscrupulous businesses are cashing in on a weak state to get rich quick, and investing their ill-gotten wealth by laundering it through real estate.In fact the reason for the abnormal rise in land prices is the lack of state regulation, corruption and self-interest at high levels of government, says economic professor Achyut Wagle. “Real estate has become the ideal venue to park wealth earned through corruption, so that even people who do not really need land are investing in it,” he adds. “And since one does not need to work anymore to get rich quick, the real estate speculation has also killed entrepreneurship.”<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208609c7e80680e0b54e2jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>One recent example of just how high up the rot has gone is the Lalita Niwas scam at Baluwatar where government property was transferred to private ownership with collusion between the real estate mafia and senior politicians. Another is the example of real estate tycoon Ikshya Tamang who allegedly cheated hundreds of investors but was never prosecuted by the UML government of which he was a nominated MP.In his previous tenure as prime minister Sher Bahadur Deuba allowed Gopal Dahit to lift a ban on fragmentation of agriculture land for housing colonies. A lot of money is said to have changed hands to allow this law to be passed. When K P Oli was prime minister, his Land Management Minister Padma Kumari Aryal lifted the ban on turning agriculture land into housing colonies, if a local  government office certified that it was not used for farming.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/owning-land-gives-former-slaves-self-respect/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Owning land gives former slaves self-respect</a>, Unnati ChaudharyThe Supreme Court ruled last year not to allow the fragmentation of land holdings for housing colonies, but in reality it never stopped. In fact just in the past year, there have been more than 500,000 new property ownership certificates distributed by dividing larger holdings. Corrupt officials are even demanding under the table payments to approve property sales where dividing up a property is legitimate.The standard operating procedure at the land tax office is that most of these transactions go through only after money exchanges hands under the table.What is the solution?Most economists agree that tightening the process through which banks finance land purchases can burst the bubble on real estate prices. For example, a house owner should not be given a loan to buy more than one property.Sujeev Shakya of the Nepal Economic Forum agrees that buying house or property other than the one a person is living in should be taxed heavily. He has another idea: slap an inheritance tax on property that is passed down from one generation to the next, as is the practice in other countries.The other measure would be a hefty increase in the currently nominal land transaction tax. “How can it be that a person who earns a living through hard work pays 36% income tax while profit from selling property is only 2.5%-5%?” asks chartered accountant Seshmani Dahal, adding that other measures like enforcing banking transactions for land sales should also be taken to ensure that the sale is not deliberately undervalued to lessen the tax amount.A lot of the unregulated buying and selling of land and speculation would also be curbed if proper urban planning is strictly enforced. Only after utilities and other facilities are installed should an area be opened for residence.The government should also be involved in building and establishing affordable housing for middle income families. The Constitution establishes the right of all citizens for decent housing, and it is up to the government to fulfill that pledge.

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Kathmandu’s unreal real estate prices

<figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205d89c7e80680e0b28dbjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Jaglal Dagaura Tharu tends to his nursery in Kailali district.</figcaption></figure>After living most of his life as a bonded labourer, Jaglal Dagaura Tharu is building a home on a plot of land that he can finally call his own. Having started a successful nursery, the former landless family is now financially independent.Jaglal, 57, was born into a life of indentured servitude with his parents who were <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nothing-to-lose-but-their-chains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bonded labourers</a> at the house of a local zamindar landlord. This traditional system of modern-day slavery known as the kamaiya system was widespread in Nepal’s western plains until it was abolished twenty years ago.The young Jaglal grew up working all day long looking after the zamindar’s livestock at the edge of the forest. At age 12, he was ‘lent’ to a neighbour’s household to slave away for three years before returning to his original ‘owner’ Shyamlal Chaudhari.He got married, had a family of his own, but continued working for the landlord with four other brothers who were all also <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Modern-day-domestic-slaves-domestic-workers,3785" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bonded labourers</a>. With no income or property of their own, they had no way of freeing themselves from a life of slavery.But in 1979, when the Nepal Punarvas Company started distributing land to landless squatters, Jaglal’s father filled in an application. Three years later, the family received a 0.3 hectare plot in Kailali. It was a start.“We made a small hut but we did not have enough to eat so I remained a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19418#.YfeHIy2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">kamaiya</a> for a few more years,” says Jaglal but he had already started looking at how to put the land to the best use.In 2000, he joined the District Forest Office to work in its nursery with a salary of Rs1,500 a month. Two years later, he was contracted to set up a new nursery for the office. There, for every sapling, he used to get Rs2 and his monthly income rose to Rs25,000.For the next 13 years, he worked at the Kailali District Forest Office, sent his son to a school with his earnings and even bought a piece of land. Jalal gets four batches of seeds every year in his nursery and makes up to Rs150,000 selling the seedlings. In 2018, he bought a motorcycle with the money he made from selling the seeds. <figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205db9c7e80680e0b28dcjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“When you have your own land, you reap all the benefits of your labour too, the result of my hard work is mine alone unlike when you slave away at someone else’s farm,” says Jaglal, who has managed to send a son to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/europe-now-favoured-destination-for-nepalis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Romania for work</a>, and bought another plot where he is finally building a home of his own. In July 2000, the Nepal government abolished the kamaiya system and liberated some 32,500 bonded labourers from districts in the western plains including Dang, Banke, Bardia, Kailali and Kanchanpur. Many of the former bonded labourers now have land in their own name thanks to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/ground-reality-of-landlessness-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">state sponsored land distribution</a>. With better access to education and healthcare, their lifestyle has also improved. Ramkumari Chaudhari, 45, was also born into a bonded labourer family near Dhangadi. Her parents married her off when she was young to a man who was also forced into a life of indentured servitude. Ramkumari with her husband Sanjay managed to sharecrop on land from the zamindar for vegetable farming. But when the landowner saw their success, he nullified the agreement and decided to farm himself. “If you want to make something of yourself in this country and be independent, you need a land of your own,” says Ramkumari, and the couple has managed to buy a small plot for their farm with a government grant. What started as a small business with two pigs has now expanded into a large swine farm spread in 0.2 hectares of land which earns them Rs40,000 a month. Ramkumari also runs a profitable vegetable farm on the side so the pigs get to eat the excess vegetables and the farm benefits from fertiliser from the sty. “We just had a hut before, but now we have a nice house. We have also bought a tractor for our farm,” says Ramkumari. “We no longer face the kind of hardships and mistreatment we did when we were kamaiya, we work without a worry. And the best thing is that your hard work earns you money.” Ramkumari and Sanjay can now afford to send their two sons to college, but the fact that many other neighbourhood children have not been able to continue their study worries her. They risk falling back to leading a l<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-slave-to-entrepreneur/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ife of indentured servitude</a>, she points out. Radha Chaudhari, 36, of Dhangadi municipality is also getting ready to build her own house. Her husband Navaraj was a bonded labour from birth in Rajapur of Bardia and came to this town after being freed. <figure><img width="1366" height="630" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410118/637205df9c7e80680e0b28ddjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But when the family did not receive any land, Navraj and Radha worked odd jobs to support their family. Navraj trained hard and is now a much sought-after mason.The government finally gave them a tiny plot of land near Dhangadi bazar, a prime location where they are planning to build their house and rent out the rest. “Our place is close to the market, which means better access to education, health facilities and jobs, we couldn’t be happier,” says Radha.In the two decades since they were freed, many <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Book-Review/Book-review-from-kamlari-to-lawmaker,690" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">former kamaiya</a> have found their feet. This is a success story of how former slaves have struggled to find independence, dignity and self-respect. But there are still some families who have fallen between the cracks.With the new federal system, the rehabilitation of kamaiyas was handed over to the local governments and many families found the paperwork too confusing and complicated and faced confusion and delays.There are 8,910 freed kamaiya families in the Kailali district, and most of them have been rehabilitated. But some 380 families are still waiting despite having an ID and land ownership documents.

Owning land gives former slaves self-respect

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637205299c7e80680e0b289fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1208" height="737"/><figcaption></figcaption></figure>The first popularly elected government led by B P Koirala enacted the Birta Abolition Act in 1959, that required zamindars formerly granted land by the state to pay full tax. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/america-nepal-and-the-royal-coup/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2B7iXxi6EQ44Yn6fvU7P8o">Feudal landlords opposed the move</a>, and it became one of the reasons why King Mahendra ousted Koirala in a coup d’etat on 12 December 1960.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/land-reform-in-cold-war-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/land-reform-in-cold-war-nepal/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0_lFjeM84k9XkhIFJ4Ij_i">B P believed that only genuine land reform</a> would ensure that all Nepalis prospered together, and also deflect the Communism tide. But in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/putsch-ek/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/putsch-ek/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3728k40jtTzbzquYVdgXVu">justifying his coup</a>, Mahendra declared that Nepal’s first democratically elected government had to be overthrown because it had “failed to work in the interest of the poor”.Today, more than six decades later, BP’s Nepali Congress that espoused social democracy is leading a governing coalition. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dance-of-democracy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sher Bahadur Deuba</a>, who once led the party’s student union, is prime minister for the fifth time.Yet, 1.5 million families representing a quarter of Nepal’s households, are still landless or have land issues. Some 53% of Nepal’s farmers own only 18% of the total cultivable land.After ousting B P, King Mahendra continued the भुमी सुधार land reform to retain international support and quell domestic discontent. But the effort was half-hearted: the landed kept their land. Mahendra and his son <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-would-still-be-a-monarchy/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Birendra</a> ruled through a partyless Panchayat system for the next 30 years.Ironically, unequal land ownership (the very reason that pushed Mahendra to stage his coup) became one of the factors that led to the People’s Movement and the downfall of the Panchayat in 1990.But even after the multi-party system was restored, there was only tokenism for land rights. In 1991, a commission set up to resolve the issue was dissolved even before it could complete its work. In the past three decades, 18 more land reform commissions have been formed by democratic governments, only to fizzle out.Land ownership and rights have been weaponised time and again at election time since 1990 to win votes, but there has been no real change on the ground. The Nepali Congress, UML and Maoists are all guilty of making false promises to the landless.The Maoists made land to the tiller and just land distribution a major point in their 40-point demand to Deuba in 1996 during his first tenure as prime minister. Their main slogan to recruit young men and women to take up arms was to promise land.After all this, the landless have stopped trusting politicians who promise land. Disputes over land make up one-third of all cases in Nepal’s courts.Various factors have changed the dynamics of land today. While educated Nepalis do not want to farm and <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/high-risk-remittance/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0fa06zRhqJSxyBT6Zn3rB4">migration is leaving arable land fallow</a>, remittances fuel the market in real estate, the price of which has risen exponentially.This unorganised and uncontrolled buying and selling of land has once again concentrated ownership in the hands of richer Nepalis, who have grown pheonmenally richer as property values escalate. There is a whole class of new-rich who have made their fortune through real estate speculation.This is why we have the farce of the Baluwatar real estate scandal that involves the mightiest in the land, even while a quarter of the country’s population is landless.The Gorkha empire’s expansion in the 18th century was financed by land, generals and soldiers were granted ownership of portions of the land they conquered. During the Shah reign, the royalty and courtiers could take what they wanted. During the Rana period, at least one-third of the total cultivable land in Nepal was distributed among those close to them. The Birta system may have been repealed six decades ago, but it is still intact in other forms through landlords, traders and brokers owning most property.Real estate today is booming business, and a major source of revenue for the state from taxes. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-creeps-up-surrounding-mountains/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1sT_kl8lVvxjzEaQecolxh">Urban land value appreciation</a> has made it possible for some Nepalis to become fabulously rich overnight.It is not productive when real estate speculation becomes a mainstay of the economy. It does not create jobs, and it exacerbates inequality. Private property rights effectively legitimise past injustices that parcelled out large swathes of the country to the privileged. It perpetuates discrimination and inequality, laying the seeds for future conflict.To be sure, distributing land to the landless alone does not solve their problem, nor does it erase historical discrimination. Self-respect comes from belonging to the land, giving them a sense of purpose and responsibility. It is a start. But it should be without any condition, it cannot be a publicity stunt, or ploy to pad up vote banks.If we are to safeguard the gains of the 2017 Constitution and build the pillars of the federal democratic republic from the ground up, we must pick up where B P Koirala left off 61 years ago.Translated from an Editorial in the January-February 2022 issue of <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1643077045608000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0kZ1Nz-GpmZwGP7z3MsKDm">Himal Khabarpatrika </a>dedicated to the issue of land.

Ground reality of landlessness in Nepal

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

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

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

"It is hard to feel neutral"

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

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

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

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