<figure><img width="1400" height="798" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171136/636934479c7e80680e03dfe8jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Kunda Dixit</figcaption></figure>A drain in the middle of the road outside the gates of a school in Kirtipur had its concrete slabs removed for maintenance six months ago. No one bothered to close it after the work was finished. Students passed it every day, and at night numerous motorcyclists had been injured trying to avoid the gaping hole. A parent who complained to workers was told to mind his own business. Calls to KUKL went unheeded.On 27 October, as the city readied to celebrate Tihar, soft-spoken yoga tutor Shyam Sundar Shrestha went bicycling to Chobhar. When he did not return home till late at night, his mother and relatives called around. Police found his body the next morning inside Kirtipur’s open drain. An autopsy showed he had drowned in sewage. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-go-quietly-into-the-night/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Don't go quietly into the night</a>, Kunda Dixit<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/murder-not-accident/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Murder, not accident</a>   After this paper printed <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-go-quietly-into-the-night/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the story</a>, readers sent in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/murder-not-accident/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">many photographs of similar death traps</a> all over Kathmandu Valley: ditches, gaping potholes, open manholes. The 2015 earthquake, the road expansion, laying of Melamchi water pipes, repairs of mains, and lately digging for a new sewage network have repeatedly torn up Kathmandu’s busiest thoroughfares. Contractors never adhere even to the minimum safety standards of installing warning signs, fencing off dangerous areas, and paving the streets after digging them up.Aside from the clear and present danger to pedestrians and vehicle users, the decrepit state of Kathmandu’s streets has worsened the Valley’s already <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/page/every-breath-you-take-air-pollution" target="_blank" rel="noopener">unbreathable air</a>. As our weekly graph of the daily <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/poisoning-the-air-we-breathe/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">air pollution</a> averages and the live hour-by-hour pollution updates on our <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">homepage</a> sourced from the U.S. Embassy monitoring station at Phora Darbar show: Kathmandu air quality index is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/open-air/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">one of the worst</a> in the world. At this level of toxicity, residents of Kathmandu will on average lose nearly four years of their lives.In Nepal, we are used to recklessly feckless governments that fail in the state's primary function of protecting citizens. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-nepal-highways,622" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal’s killer highways</a> claim 2,000 lives for every 100,000 vehicles annually. The figure for Japan is just 7 for every 100,000 cars. While many vehicle fatalities are caused by careless drivers, most are the result of the poor condition of roads, lack of enforcement of traffic rules, the absence of highway dividers, fencing and guard rails. The only reason the fatality rate is not higher is that the surface of city roads and highways are so rough that vehicles are forced to go slow. All this points to criminal negligence on the part of the state. That, in turn, is abetted by a fatalistic culture that ignores prevention, maintenance and safety. A combination of corruption and a complete lack of accountability on the part of elected officials and bureaucrats has turned our sidewalks, roads, highways, bridges, airports, and cities into death traps. Passing the buck and lack of coordination are blatant.For a long time we blamed Kathmandu's kleptocracy, and hoped that last year’s elections to three levels of government would finally decentralise responsibility. It has been more than a year, but most municipalities are governed by the party that rules in Kathmandu, and its culture of poor governance has trickled down to the grassroots.There are syndicates in every sphere of business, and many of them are hand-in-glove with national and local politicians. This greedy neo-elite has honed rent-seeking into a fine art. Structural corruption and pre-paid appointments of jobs in the bureaucracy have reduced the impact of public spending. There is plenty of cash to go around, but the Centre is loath to hand over the purse-strings to provincial and local governments. Development budgets go unspent because no one can decide who gets the cut.An investigation in this paper recently showed that one-third of elected mayors were contractors, owned construction companies, or had excavators they rented out to municipalities they lead. Elections should have been able to fix all that, because in a democracy, legitimacy comes not just from being elected but from performance. But winning an election in Nepal has more to do with party affiliation than accomplishments while in office. Poor governance has a direct impact on urban planning, infrastructure, safety – and is often a question of life or death, as in the tragic martyrdom of Shyam Sundar Shrestha. As one of the mourners at his memorial said: “All three levels of government are responsible for the death of this citizen. And it goes right up to the Prime Minister’s office.”Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dont-go-quietly-into-the-night/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Don't go quietly in the night</a>, Kunda Dixit<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/poisoning-the-air-we-breathe/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Poisoning the air we breathe</a>, Sonia Awale<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/open-air/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Open Air</a>, Nepali Times <h2>10 years ago this week</h2> The Nepali Times issue  #425 of 14-20 November 2008 ten years ago carried an editorial that reads like it could have been written today. At that time, the Maoist party had just been elected to office with a landslide. Ten years later, the party is in government with a near two-third majority. But the frustrations are the same. Excerpt:'Nepal’s revolution was supposed to lead us towards a New Nepal. A new set of elected leaders was supposed to bring us a new vision and infuse citizens with hope and a sense of national purpose. Nepalis haven’t yet given up hope. They want to give the government they elected a chance to prove itself-both in improving their daily lives and also by charting a new future for this country. We are suffering the byproducts of the insurgency: criminality, bribery, extortion and breakdown in law and order.In Nepal, a revolution that was fought at great human cost has ironically habituated people to kidnappings and corruption. Even if the lives of Nepalis don’t improve, we need to have a perception that things are on the mend: that delivery of services is happening, that jobs are being created, that wealth is being spread. The present culture of impunity, the surge in crime and corruption do not give us that perception.' <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/425" data-elementor-open-lightbox=""> <img width="640" height="999" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171136/6369344b9c7e80680e03dfe9jpeg.jpg" alt=""></a>

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Reckless fecklessness

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

Kunda Dixit

Don’t go quietly into the night

Nepalis worship the sun, and mark its seasonal passage with festivals. Adding to that spiritual reverence now is the economic relevance of solar power. Fast-flowing Himalayan rivers give Nepal a total feasible hydropower generation capacity of 48,000MW, of which only 3,600 has so far been harnessed. Yet, Nepal’s total solar power potential has been calculated to be nearly 10 times higher at 432,000MW. &nbsp; With over 300 days of sunshine a year, the country could produce 3.6 to 6.2 units of electricity per square meter based on its solar radiation levels.&nbsp; This potential, combined with decreasing installation costs of Chinese-manufactured photovoltaic cells and other means, is a viable and affordable alternative to Nepal’s over-reliance on hydropower which faces concerns about the destruction of riverine ecosystems, as well as risk from glacial lake floods caused by climate breakdown. However, restrictive domestic energy policies and geopolitical sensitivities mean Nepal is failing to diversify fast enough to tap this tremendous solar energy potential. Nepal’s hydropower generation is almost entirely from run-of-river projects that do not have large reservoirs. Many such projects in Nepal and across the Himalaya have been swept away by glacial lake outburst floods in recent years.&nbsp; Such risks and limitations to hydropower should have prompted the Nepal government to jump-start investment into solar farms, but the main reason is that the Nepal Electricity Authority (NEA) caps solar power at just 10% of total capacity. There is no official explanation, but it is likely due to the outdated perception that solar technology cannot supply a consistent energy stream at evening and morning peak loads.&nbsp; But today, there are plenty of ways around it, including pump storage schemes that use daytime solar power to pump water from a river to a reservoir and drain it to generate electricity at night. Battery technology is now more advanced, and affordable enough to make grid-scale batteries feasible.&nbsp; But then there is an issue of tariffs, which are much lower for solar at Rs5 per energy unit, and competitive bidding forces companies to lower it even further. But there is no bidding process for hydropower and licenses are given out on a first-come, first-served basis with a fixed rate of Rs6.5 per unit regardless of location.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025112303118_c3280cddae6f3305d07319011dd9c187005822a9b905bb849c36b95e3ad0d516" data-rendition-name="original" width="1109" height="887" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun"> </figure>  SUPPLY VS DEMAND Hydropower is supply-driven, while solar responds to demand, so under such a discouraging scenario, solar power accounts for only 5% of Nepal’s total energy mix. “Given the environmental risks to hydropower, investors are now demanding tariffs on hydropower to be increased. So the question to the government is, are you paying more money for hydropower or willing to buy more of the cheaper solar power,” said energy entrepreneur Kushal Gurung. Solar investors are lobbying the government to raise the cap on solar power to 30% and expand zoning policies so that solar plants can be built in areas with high potential, such as Dolpo and Mustang in the trans-Himalaya. These regions are sparsely populated, arid, have a cold climate and high solar radiation levels — ideal conditions for photovoltaics. Solar power’s biggest advantage is its cost-effectiveness compared to hydropower, with the operating cost of a hydropower plant up to four times higher than of a solar plant of the same generation capacity. Investors are no longer assured of a return on investment on hydropower due to climate risk which have increased insurance premiums. “Last year, when the government opened a bidding for 800MW of solar power, the private sector was ready to invest 3,000MW. Both banks and investors were convinced about the potential for solar energy, but the government and especially the bureaucracy, was not on the same wavelength,” added Gurung.&nbsp; Interim Energy Minister Kulman Ghising is said to be interested in increasing the cap on solar energy, but there is a question whether he will remain in office since he has launched his only Ujyalo Nepal party to contest elections in March. GEOGRAPHY AND GEOPOLITICS In 2018, Nepal’s only foreign private equity form Dolma Himalayan Climate Fund (DHCF) pitched a proposal to generate 150MW from a solar farm and store 20MW of it in battery systems in Mustang to meet seasonal and daily peaks. It got approval from Investment Board Nepal (IBN) and had already poured millions into the project when the Department of Mines instructed all developers in Mustang to halt their projects, citing the discovery of uranium ore. But insiders say the real reason was due to pressure from the Chinese government’s security concerns about a Western investor being involved so close to the border with Tibet.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025112303118_5946a5f1ba63f34c88f900c6d12b37d0101effb76e8a7a5397cd6451c16cd5b2" data-rendition-name="original" width="800" height="450" loading="lazy" alt="Here comes the sun NT"> <figcaption>Photo: GHAM POWER</figcaption> </figure>  The same thing happened, but in reverse, when the Chinese company Risen Energy was interested in investing $190 million on a grid-connected 125MW photovoltaic generation system in Banke and Kapilvastu districts near the Indian border. Risen’s subsidiary, Risen Energy Singapore JV, was negotiating with IBN to commit $190 million in the project which would also store 20MW of daytime generation for morning and evening peak demand. But the agreement was not signed because the Indian authorities were concerned about Chinese involvement so close to their border. India has also refused to buy electricity from any hydropower plant in Nepal that has Chinese or other foreign investment or contractors. Indian state-owned companies are currently building or planning hydropower plants in Nepal to generate nearly 3,000MW, mostly for export.&nbsp; But not every Chinese-backed project has been blocked. In 2024, China handed over two solar-powered livelihood projects to a local community in Lalitpur — a community solar bathhouse and a rooftop photovoltaic power system. Funded by the Yunnan People’s Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, the projects aim to improve living conditions. The initiative forms part of the Chinese Embassy’s ‘Happy Community’ program (幸福社区, Xìngfú Shèqū) under the China–South Asia Poverty Reduction and Development Cooperation Center.&nbsp; Says Gurung: “Hydropower is a geopolitical mess, but it has well and truly started in solar power too. It now all comes down to how we handle it, and we need deft diplomacy to make sure our projects are not indefinitely delayed as has happened in the past.”&nbsp; LOW-HANGING FRUIT Despite domestic restrictions and geopolitics, there are still small-scale opportunities for solar energy entrepreneurs to cash in, such as net metering. Most industries in Nepal have enough rooftop space to generate 500KW to 1MW of solar energy. Combined, they would generate a substantial amount of energy to feed into the grid. Factories, supermarkets and chain stores are often bankable and trusted by financial institutions from which they could easily get credit.&nbsp; China could also take advantage of Nepal’s high solar power potential. Given that the United States has only imposed a 10% tariff on Nepal, China could set up PV manufacturing plants in Nepal.&nbsp; However, this requires government-to-government which could run into trouble, again because of geopolitics. The same applies for the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism which is a carbon tariff on carbon intensive products, such as steel, cement and some electricity, imported to the European Union.&nbsp; Chinese products have suffered under this mechanism but Chinese products made in Nepal can be competitive in the European market given lower carbon tax for Nepal. Clean energy has long been an area where Nepal hopes to attract Chinese investment — not only in hydropower, but also in solar and wind energy.&nbsp; With contributions from Qian Sun, Global Voices.&nbsp;

Nepal, here comes the sun

Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday, protesting what they have called the interim government’s inadequate efforts to address the demands of the GenZ movements. The demonstrators also sought to bar the UML from gathering at Maitighar, where party chair K P Oli was expected to announce its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. The organisers consequently relocated the event. Friday’s demonstration at Maitighar comes as UML and GenZ representatives agreed to sit down for talks in Simara, where a curfew was imposed this week after youth protestors and party cadres clashed near the airport as demonstrators sought to stop UML leaders from flying in for a political event to Simara from Kathmandu.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251121131148_c0b3bfb861f73bee456efbd12f523af55ce3c258742c39e1dea7dbf768774ea5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1440" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> <figcaption>Youth protestors who sustained injuries at the hands of state security forces during the September protest staged a sit-in at Maitighar Mandala on Friday. Photos: SUBASH SHRESTHA</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251121131152_85f3606728d137b334d782ac1b5d1ed6383544493f96ebcc0398fcd9f0c5add7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2160" height="1439" loading="lazy" alt="GenZ Maitighar"> </figure>  &nbsp;Nepal’s interim government is increasingly cautious about the nation’s sensitive security situation in the lead-up to the 5 March election, as evidenced by pro-monarchy businessman Durga Prasai’s midnight arrest earlier this week over his inflammatory remarks as he called for protests this month. On Thursday, the Supreme Court ordered the government to present Prasai before the court within 24 hours.&nbsp; As it stands, the UML’s inauguration of a youth collective amidst its disregard for the demands of Nepalis for party reforms and a change in leadership highlights party chair and former PM K P Oli’s continued lack of remorse for the excesses of 8 September.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251121131144_aaa296e2e812ef5f6473064bc4b679bf605e14e06ac0ec9be1d6d047b56f96f9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1707" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force NT"> <figcaption>The UML launched its Youth Volunteer Force on Friday. Photos: SUMAN NEPALI</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20251121131148_bfa8df3fc382195b4cdb9c4804cd67e169d2d9c0b8d218e61bbef0c4c9dbdaad" data-rendition-name="original" width="2560" height="1706" loading="lazy" alt="UML Youth Volunteer Force"> </figure>  Families of those killed and injured on 8 September have demanded that the ousted PM and home minister be held accountable for state brutality.&nbsp; This week, Human Rights Watch published a <a href="https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/11/19/nepal-unlawful-use-of-force-during-gen-z-protest" target="_blank">comprehensive report</a> concluding that security forces fired indiscriminately on youth-led protestors on 8 September.&nbsp; The human rights watchdog urged the Sushila Karki-led interim government to investigate the excessive use of force as well as arson, vandalism and mob attacks on individuals on 9 September. The government has created a judicial commission to inquire into the deaths of 76 people over two days of protests.&nbsp; “The recent violence in Nepal included serious human rights violations, and those responsible should be held accountable, whether they are security forces or political actors,” said Meenakshi Ganguly, deputy Asia director at Human Rights Watch.&nbsp; She added: “The government should ensure that the investigations are independent, time-bound, and transparent, and that no one found responsible for breaking the law is unfairly protected from proper prosecution.” HRW’s investigation was based on testimony from 52 witnesses, victims, journalists, healthcare workers, politicians, and sources close to security forces. Researchers also verified photos and video footage shared on social media and with researchers; and visited the scenes of protests, properties subjected to arson and vandalism, and hospitals.&nbsp; A police officer said that officers opened fire with lethal force five minutes after the District Administration Office declared an emergency curfew around Parliament. Witness accounts and analysed footage did not show grave and imminent danger to life that would justify the intentional use of lethal force, stated the human rights watchdog in the report.&nbsp; The protestors and witnesses identified security forces who fired live ammunition at the protestors by their uniforms as members of the Armed Police Force (APF) and Nepal Police’s Special Task Force (STF). &nbsp; “They literally aimed at us and started shooting,” said one witness who sheltered behind a barricade as police continued shooting.&nbsp; A retired senior police official said police had failed to follow procedures for dispersing protests and using lethal force.&nbsp; Pathologists at a Kathmandu morgue told HRW that they determined 35 cases of death caused by “high velocity gunshot wounds” to the head, neck, chest, or abdomen.&nbsp; The witness recounted being taken into custody along with 33 other protestors by STF officers in riot gear, and said that police police personnel beat him with batons. Detainees were threatened and their IDs destroyed. Several witnesses said that the mob attacks on businesses, politicians, media companies, and educational institutions were very targeted, noting the absence of security personnel on 9 September as arson and violence raged across the capital.&nbsp; Some suggested that the violence may have been instigated by infiltrators associated with various political movements.&nbsp; On Discord, the platform where a significant number of demonstrators organised, participants noted that while there were calls for peaceful movement in the days leading up to the protest, some on the platform advocated for violence.&nbsp; Human Rights Watch has said that any credible allegations of criminal acts contributing to the violence must be investigated.&nbsp; Said Ganguly: “The authorities should recognise that widespread impunity for human rights violations in the past helped enable the violence that occurred this time in Nepal. It is crucial to reverse the decades-long tendency by successive governments in Nepal to bury investigations and stall prosecutions, and to bring about accountability and security sector reform.”

Security forces targeted protestors disproportionately: HRW

As people move out of Nepal’s trans-Himalayan districts, their faiths migrate with them to the cities and all over the world. The ancient animist faith of Bon Po predates the advent of Buddhism in Tibet, and its last remaining priests and devotees are found in villages like Lubra in Mustang and Samling in Dolpo. But as those villages empty out, Bon centres can now be found as far afield as Kathmandu, New York and Tokyo. The first Triten Norbutse Monastery was founded in Tibet in the 14th century by the Bon Master Shen Nyima Gyaltsen. Its monastery in Nepal is below the forested hills of Ichangu on the western outskirts of Kathmandu.&nbsp; Many are surprised to hear that there is a Bon centre in Kathmandu, and that it is located so close to Swayambhu. This Triten monastery was established by Yongzin Tenzin Namdak Rinpoche only 40 years ago to cater to adherents of the faith who lived in the capital. True to its reverence for nature, the shrine is verdant, with plants and flowers amidst a contrasting backdrop of Kathmandu’s ugly urban sprawl below. The monastery practices Bon culture and passes on teachings to students as well, who after completing 15 years of study graduate to become ‘Gese’.&nbsp; It is believed that Bon Po was brought to Nepal from Tibet by Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. Over the centuries, Bon and Buddhism have become syncretic in Dolpo and Mustang, despite the differences in their belief systems. Followers worship nature and consider the human body, speech and mind as jewels. The human body is said to be composed of five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and the cosmos.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20251113111148_ce5d50db6757c4f5a7259c10d2879ee5f5b7b990e987bf3734378ba464afc9d5" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="4284" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  The Bon faith was much more widespread during the reigns of Nyathi Chenpo, the first king of Tibet to Namri Srongchen, the 32nd king. But it was after King Srongchen Gompo that Buddhism started making inroads on the plateau, and spread also in the Himalayan rimlands. There are also Bon followers in Humla, Jumla, Baglung, Mugu, Kaski and Chitwan, as well as in the United States and 50 other countries, indicating the movement of people within Nepal and outside.&nbsp; The Bon religion believes in reincarnation and that everything, including positive and negative thoughts are a result of past life karma. Buddhism focuses more on attaining Nirvana, a state of no suffering, where the subject is released from all his/her karmas. Bon has also inducted some Tantric practices and rituals, some of which are in parts similar, yet still different from Buddhism.&nbsp; “In Buddhist culture, circumambulation of shrines is clockwise, but in Bon culture, circumambulation is in an anticlockwise direction,” explains Chhiring Lama of Triten Norbutse Monastery. “The main Bon mantra is Om Ma Tri Mu Ye Sa Le Du, while followers of Buddhism chant Om Mani Padme Hum. Buddhism emphasises enlightenment by meditation and moral behaviour, while Bon beliefs centre on nature and ancestor worship, and placating the spirits. In religious texts, it is mentioned that there were 1,008 Buddhas throughout time. Tonpa Shenrab is believed to be the 8th Buddha, and Bon practitioners are guided by his teachings contained in 140 sacred writings known as Kangyur and 300 more scriptures known as Katen.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20251113111152_9813ce72805941af4b3bfb3c80c7e45ffc8aca4f2612eb967e84204f3a28bc07" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="The Bon Po way of life NT"> </figure>  “We worship nature and its elements and the prayer flags contain religious texts and when the wind blows through it we consider it a prayer,” says Chhiring Lama. “We also worship ponds for the water and consider fire as a sacred element as well. We also consider snakes sacred, therefore worship ponds, considering them as the place of residence.” The interdependence between human beings and nature is clearly depicted through such traditions and practices which carry relevance today as the planet faces the crisis of climate breakdown.&nbsp; Important gods worshiped include Satrig Ersang, Shenlha Okar, Sangpo Bumtri, and Tonpa Shenrab Miwoche. But what is similar to Buddhism is an offering known as ‘torma’, a cone shaped ritual offering made from flour dough. Many Bon faithful are vegetarian, or abstain from meat during festivals.&nbsp; Over time, the rise of Buddhism in Tibet and beyond overshadowed Bon, pushing many of its practices to the margins. Yet, the tradition continues to live on, carried by those who see in it a deep connection to nature, the spirit world, and the roots of Tibetan culture.&nbsp; In many ways, the endurance of Bon is a reminder that even the quietest faiths hold timeless truths, waiting to be remembered and valued. Followers of Bon today are far fewer, and the knowledge about its traditions is not as widespread.&nbsp; “As time goes on, people adopt rituals and cultures that are more convenient to their daily lives,” says Chhiring Lama. “But that means forgetting or leaving behind one’s indigenous and ancestral roots.”

The Bon Po way of life

&nbsp;Nepal has finally become famous the world over for something else besides Mt Everest — the GenZ Movement. The 8 September protests in Kathmandu may have been triggered by what happened in Jakarta a week previously, but it inspired street uprisings all over the world. This week, Mexico’s GenZ are clashing with riot police. Last month, the president of Madagascar fled to Dubai. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-genzs-inspired-filipinos" target="_blank">Philippines</a>, Morocco, Peru, Timor Leste all have seen similar anti-government protests against corruption, nepotism and poor governance. A Himalayan republic, a Latin American federation, a Southeast Asian archipelago, or a North African kingdom may have little in common, their histories, religions, languages, and political systems are worlds apart. But <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/19/world/gen-z-revolutions-protests-louvre-heist-gaza.html" target="_blank">the common thread</a> running through these demonstrations were the simulacra and symbols spread on social media platforms.&nbsp; The young crowds marching through the streets of these countries were holding up the same icons. They painted the same images on cardboard, waved the same flags, stitched the same badges on their backpacks. They chanted &nbsp;the same references from the same corners of the internet.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20251122031128_2ff7cf4ce7a9590359ed18753f4977648a6db83e95dd62d602a3f81e9eec42c4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="1047" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption> One Piece reference meme on Instagram, 115K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  To anyone who did not grow up online, this looks random. To anyone who did, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. A new kind of global identity has formed — one that cuts across nationalities and cultures. In Nepal older relatives mock the ‘जेन्जी’. My neighbour asked me if ‘GenZ’ was a new political party.&nbsp; Around the world, when youth-led protests appear, reporters and politicians ask the same question: ‘Who is the leader?’ The answer is the same: there is no leader.&nbsp; Some names come up more prominently, as people did during <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-historic-youth-dissensus?fbclid=IwY2xjawNPQnZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHk5Nazeqz3K9aNddXa-dQfCbwtId0nLclQwHzIYhTfg8tzGWXZMBJ5pjm5Qx_aem_a5JoyT1FRqzCVtnnPM7zUw" target="_blank">the Nepali protests</a>: Sudan Gurung. Miraj Dhungana, Rakshya Bam and other organisers who appeared in livestreams and interviews. But look closely and the leader is hiding in plain sight. The leader is not a person. The leader is the internet meme.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20251122031128_b2319eb8d7abec7ed5e12baf1a53e0a27cfd7a49ee15c058c47cdf2603a7fa8a" data-rendition-name="original" width="662" height="1038" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Aurafarming, 233K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-s-meme-revolution" target="_blank">Memes today</a> are doing the quiet organising work that pamphlets and party cells once did. They offer identity, coordinate action, level power differences, and they do it without any central command. This is not because memes cause revolts. It is because memes are the connective tissue of a generation that grew up on the same visual language, the same jokes, the same references, and the same sense of shared digital childhood. Older generations did not share cultural symbols in the same way. Whether they read a certain comic book or watched the same cartoon depended on class, religion, caste, the country, or neighbourhood they grew up in. These divisions created stratified cultural memories.&nbsp; Today, an entire global cohort has been raised on the same visual media. The same YouTube creators. The same TikTok jokes. The same anime storylines. It is truly what McLuhan predicted the Global Village would be.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20251122031128_136d009a48d8f8daee82ada1b220e0b0c8ec482b52dcd44e0942e2185a70421b" data-rendition-name="original" width="738" height="1012" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Masked K P Oli, 63K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  This has also created the perfect environment for <a href="https://observer.co.uk/news/international/article/revolution-20-frances-political-future-could-be-won-or-lost-by-bots-and-memes" target="_blank">memes to become political tools</a>. They are instantly recognisable, emotionally charged, and open for remixing. They allow young people to signal their values without stating them. They compress identity, anger, humour, and belonging into something that the rest of the world dismisses as unserious. The perfect example of a GenZ meme is the famous skull and crossbones in protest flags from Kathmandu to Manila to Mexico City. The Strawhat Pirates from the <a href="https://www.france24.com/en/asia-pacific/20251006-one-piece-manga-revolt-morocco-indonesia-nepal-madagascar" target="_blank">anime One Piece</a>, is a show with over 1,000 episodes and a global fanbase that spans continents. One Piece follows Luffy, a justice driven pirate who travels across a world ruled by corrupt older elites who hoard power and suppress dissent.&nbsp; It is not hard to see why that story resonates with young people who feel locked out of political systems built by generations before them. I even printed stacks of my own flyer that explained memetic warfare using Minecraft visuals and handed them out in the crowd. Each one linked to a Telegram group with the Strawhat Pirates logo called MemePack HQ.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20251122031144_1b12e920be6e312e1dc8768d318c1d1332e32694293b48984089867e7e525a27" data-rendition-name="original" width="1100" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Meme Movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d.png" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20251122031128_08b720667a9ff36537e58992c8a8030b090900847de5eecd479bbb3fc727349d" data-rendition-name="original" width="696" height="1004" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> <figcaption>Indonesia-Nepal comparison, 17.7K likes(Photo: Shristi Karki)</figcaption> </figure>  CULTURE EXPOSURE The Strawhat logo is not the only symbol making people protest. That would be like saying video games cause real world violence. Instead, the logo works like a modern version of mythology. It packs meaning for those who understand it. It represents loyalty, rebellion, chosen family, and resistance against unfair structures. It works as a rallying flag because it is already a shared story. And unlike older myths, it is accessible regardless of religion, caste, language, or national identity. Across Nepal, the Strawhat symbol has shown up on posters, badges, and protest outfits. But it is only one piece of a larger ecosystem of youth symbols. From Nepali meme pages remixing political speeches into ironic audios, to posts that place politicians into familiar pop culture formats, to clips that exaggerate the absurdity of daily life under slow moving governance, these are not just jokes. These are narrative units. Each post is a tiny story with its own punchline and its own political edge. Each TikTok video or meme functions like a religious shlok, a short piece of narrative that carries layers of meaning depending on who consumes it. Someone who has spent years studying a religion, in this case, inside GenZ online culture will recognise the symbols instantly. Someone outside this world will only see noise. This creates a literacy divide that is not about formal education but cultural exposure.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f.png" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20251122031128_2d09f075663678fe92d4e4dcc631ee6ad1aa8a99996f4c4a3649e4bf4d85132f" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="1208" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20251122031128_d591c4dc857864cc833ffc6baece3f4c2798bbaf70b557f965463fc8f802900e" data-rendition-name="original" width="568" height="1124" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  Protesting youth spent countless hours scrolling, interpreting, remixing, and responding to content. They built a shared symbolic universe across borders without planning to. This is why their political movements feel leaderless. They are not following individuals. They are following stories that define what justice looks like. Stories that define who the villain is. Stories that define how to respond when power is abused. In Nepal, memes about broken roads, delayed passports, political inheritance networks, and bureaucratic absurdity circulated for months before they became slogans or chants. By the time people took to the streets, the narrative groundwork had already been completed by thousands of posts liked and shared in private. The protests did not emerge from nowhere. They emerge from years of digital storytelling. Which is why the government’s ban on 26 digital platforms on 5 September became such a rallying force. The platforms that distribute these memes are not neutral, they are actually designed to maximise engagement because engagement translates to ad revenue. Right now, there is an engineer in Silicon Valley getting paid an enormous salary to find the perfect colour shade for a singular pixel on your screen so that you linger for fractions of a second longer.&nbsp; Algorithms reward content that trigger emotion. Sometimes the emotion is delight. Sometimes it is envy. Often it is anger. When rage becomes a business model, movements built inside these systems can feel powerful but unstable. The platforms democratise attention but centralise emotion. They allow anyone to broadcast, yet they shape the emotional tone of what becomes viral.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c.png" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20251122031128_f22baab05910305ea435045824b25b796d5630715e2e17c3f3c0991e8371843c" data-rendition-name="original" width="974" height="1156" loading="lazy" alt="Meme movements"> </figure>  GenZ sits inside this tension. Empowered by the ability to speak without gatekeepers. Trapped inside systems that monetise their attention and amplify their frustration. This is why these leaderless online movements feel both organic and volatile. The algorithm filters which stories rise and which fade. It becomes an unintentional political actor. Not elected. Not accountable. Yet influencing millions. When the state is no longer the primary distributor of information, and when the algorithm becomes the new filter of reality, the public is left with a new responsibility. We have to learn to read memes the way past generations learned to read pamphlets or manifestos. A 15 second video can carry more political weight than a two hour speech. A symbol on cardboard might represent a decade of digital storytelling. Older generations often dismiss these images as childish. They are actually literacy markers of a new political class, one that does not wait for leaders. A political class fluent in remixing power, raised on global stories that feel more honest than the institutions they inherited. The youth did not create these platforms. They inherited them. But through memes they found a new language, one that lets them organise without permission. One that lets them build solidarity without needing meetings or manifestos. One that allows them to resist systems that feel too old to reform. It is time to take that seriously. Nobel Rimal is a researcher of digital culture and political communication who studied and participated in the meme driven mobilisations during the Nepal protests&nbsp;