The Maoist war was at its peak, the rebels were attacking one district headquarters after another, people were being disappeared, Nepalis were killing fellow Nepalis. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/long-leave-the-king">King Gyanendra </a>had dismissed Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba for failing to hold elections and negotiate with the insurgents. By this point, the Maoists were also organised into the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), a centralised military force with battalion-level formations. The eastern division was led by Nanda Kishor Pun (later vice president), and the western division by Barshaman Pun (later finance minister).&nbsp; The night of terror which has since been dubbed<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/remembering-battle-of-Beni,3213"> the Battle of Beni </a>started at 10:30PM on Saturday, 20 March, and the fighting continued until 6AM the next day.&nbsp; Soldiers and police guarding the police station<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/20-years-ago-this-week/battle-of-beni"> fought until ammunition ran out</a>, the CDO building next door was reduced to rubble, and the army camp was the only government building standing, albeit barely. Thomas Bell, a Kathmandu-based correspondent for the Daily Telegraph, was one of the first foreign journalists on the scene, and had a dramatic eyewitness account in Nepali Times issue #189: ‘Lt Col Ragu Nepali’s office with its sandbagged windows is a wreck. He estimates there were at least 5,000 Maoists involved in the attack: frontline fighters, militia and porters.&nbsp; “They came in waves, like the sea, one after another, one after another,” said Lt Col Nepali, looking exhausted after two nights without sleep. “There were more women than men. And many, many child soldiers, below 14. I saw them while I was shooting back.” There were six Maoist bodies inside the army base and Nepali points them out: “They are all young children, this one is a girl.”…  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250828100812_7f9ca76a1a5d6e9b2fbe65557636afa206d996ecd34625877e5484f08feb5be7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250828100812_7f9ca76a1a5d6e9b2fbe65557636afa206d996ecd34625877e5484f08feb5be7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Rewind 2004 NT"> </figure>  After the sun came up, they were walking here like they were coming home from a movie. Singing, joking, showing no fear.”’ Accompanying the piece was a photograph by Bell of Jamila Khatun washing blood from her shopfront in Beni while her three-year-old daughter Sajita watched. The picture would go on to become an iconic image of the war and was included in Nepali Times’ publisher Kunda Dixit’s The People’s War trilogy, a pictorial documentation of the armed conflict in Nepal. In total, 19 civilians, 17 police and 14 soldiers were killed in the Beni attack, while at least 90 Maoists were slain. There were prisoners on both sides including Matrika Yadav from the Maoists.&nbsp; The Battle of Beni was one of the biggest attacks on a district headquarters, and a turning point in the conflict. Following Beni, the Army bolstered the defence of its garrisons, and the Maoists shifted to ambushing security convoys along the highways. UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan who had been to Nepal in 2001 expressed serious concern and offered to help find a solution. In our editorial that week, we said: ‘Kofi Annan has echoed the sentiments of nearly all Nepalis: that there is no military solution to the conflict.’ The United Nations went on to set up the United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN) in 2007 to support the peace process following the end of the war. But the body was largely criticised for overstepping its mandate, disagreements over exit strategy, and perceived bias towards the Maoists, among others.&nbsp; Maoist supremo Pushpa Kamal Dahal in a leaked 2009 video even boasted of deceiving the UNMIN about the actual number of their fighters to 35,000 when the real figure was closer to 7,000-8,000. &nbsp;

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2004

On midnight 16 February 2002, on the sixth anniversary of the beginning of the insurgency, the Maoists launched the biggest attack till then against the state. Some 2,500 Maoist guerrillas stormed the town of Mangalsen in Achham in far west Nepal and went about strategically bombing government buildings and executing officials and security personnel.&nbsp; All 57 soldiers in the Mangalsen garrison, along with 77 policemen and five civilians were killed while many government buildings and Sanfebagar airport were destroyed. Up until that point, the Mangelsen raid was the single most damaging strike by the Maoists.&nbsp; Many heavy weapons were looted. Thirty-six civilian workers building an airfield were killed in Kalikot when the Army in hot pursuit mistook them for guerrillas. &nbsp; The Royal Nepal Army was now in the war, and more people were killed in the next 12 months than in the previous six years of conflict. The page 1 story Nation in Grief was by Umid Bagchand. Narendra Shrestha's photograph showed an army honour guard saluting fallen comrades at Pashupati cremation site as a grandmother looked on, capturing the sombre mood of the nation in mourning.&nbsp; The story read:&nbsp; ‘Twenty of the dead soldiers had execution-style bullet wounds in the head. Other bodies were severely charred. One injured soldier had his hand blown off when he picked up a Maoist grenade and tried to throw it back to them.&nbsp; He survived because the Maoists gave him up for dead. We were not allowed to speak to the other survivor, who was in a state of shock. In a simultaneous attack, the Maoists also destroyed the airfield at Sanfebagar 20 km to the north, killing another 27 policemen.&nbsp; With the barracks razed and nearly everyone killed, the Maoists had a run of the district headquarters. The policemen put up a brave defence, fighting almost to the last man, but they were overwhelmed by numbers and the Maoists’ better weapons.&nbsp; The attackers used automatic rifles, mortars and rocket-propelled grenades captured during the Ghorahi raid on 23 November. The Maoists looted another 55 automatic weapons and five machine guns from the Mangalsen barracks..’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250814080840_654fbd570c9fcea124158cecc57af61bddfbc24bd3747be1b14592f754f86ffc.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250814080840_654fbd570c9fcea124158cecc57af61bddfbc24bd3747be1b14592f754f86ffc" data-rendition-name="original" width="605" height="879" loading="lazy" alt="Rewind 2002"> </figure>  The country was shaken to its core by the devastating scale of the attack, but it was also a tragic tale of warnings not heeded.&nbsp; As Bagchand reported for Nepali Times the week following the attack, the Maoists had distributed pamphlets, pasted posters, organised rallies warning of an impending attack on the district headquarters, and sent threatening letters to the district administration which was passed on to Kathmandu.&nbsp; The Chief District Officer Mohan Singh Khatri, who was killed in the attack, had said at an all-party meeting a few weeks prior that Kathmandu would likely send reinforcements only for their funerals, and as it turned out, the first army helicopters from the capital landed at 10AM on 12 February, just to pick up the corpses.&nbsp; In an editorial that week titled Coming out of Slaughter, we said that this cannot continue any longer and a real solution was in non-violent struggle, democracy, and social progress. ‘We have a situation here: democracy is threatened by an ultra-violent group that does not believe in it. Their reach has widened dramatically in the past six years, and they have used brutal violence to cleverly fill the vacuum left by the state.&nbsp; And as the threat to our democracy and freedoms get more and more serious, our parliamentary parties and factions within them continue to use that threat to bring each other down. Successive rulers since 1996 have squandered the political option: the civil police couldn’t fight the war so an armed police force was set up, the laws of the land were not enough and the anti-terrorism act was needed, constitutional provisions did not suffice and so an emergency was declared and the army unleashed. And the problem is still there. If anything, it is getting bigger.’ And bigger it did get. The Maoist war had already cost 3,200 lives until then, but would go on to claim more than five times that number by the time the peace accord was signed in 2006, and the former rebels were brought to mainstream politics.&nbsp; But the absence of war didn’t mean peace, as we found out in the years since. &nbsp;

2002

The Supreme Court order last week to press criminal investigation against former House Speaker Agni Sapkota for his alleged involvement in abduction and murder of Arjun Bahadur Lama in 2005 has opened the door to investigate other war crimes. Lama was 45 years old in 2005 and a UML member when he was abducted by Maoists. His body was exhumed two months later. A National Human Rights Commission report implicated Maoist leaders including Sapkota who commanded the guerrilla unit in Kavre. Lama’s wife, Purnimaya, filed a complaint at the Kavre District Police Office in 2007, but police refused to register it, stating that it should be forwarded to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). She then filed a writ at the Supreme Court, which in 2008 ordered the police to register the complaint. The case was under police investigation and an arrest warrant issued, only for the Cabinet led in 2012 by Maoist Prime Minister Baburam Bhattarai to shelve the complaint and the Supreme Court’s order. But last week’s ruling led by Chief Justice Prakash Man Singh Raut overturned that decision, allowing &nbsp;the investigation to proceed. In all this time, Sapkota has served as Minister of Information and Communication in 2011 and Minister of Forest and Soil Conservation in 2015. Despite being accused of murder, Sapkota was nominated as Speaker of the House of Representatives in 2020. "My husband never brought harm upon anyone, why did they committed such a heinous crime against him?" said Purnimaya Lama at an event this week. "I will wait my entire life for his murderer to be punished to the full extent of the law." The Comprehensive Peace Accord between the Maoists and the government in 2006, envisaged the formation of a TRC and a Commission of Investigation of Enforced Disappeared Persons (CIEDP). When finally set up in 2015, both commissions were headed by political appointees, and there were no investigations or prosecutions. Last month, after prolonged discussions, the three main political parties selected former high court judge Mahesh Thapa as the TRC chair and former chief secretary Lila Devi Gadtaula to head the CIEDP. The two appointments and &nbsp;membership have been criticised by survivors and their families. They said there was no consultation, and the selection was arbitrary, untrustworthy, and disrespectful. “Transparency was lacking during the appointment of the officials at the commissions and the officials appointed are not competent in transitional justice issues,” says Suman Adhikari, Founder Chairperson of Conflict Victims Common Platform. The CPA marked the beginning of Nepal’s transitional justice process and formally brought an end to decades long Maoist insurgency. TRC and CIEDP were set up to ensure justice for the victims of the conflict. But the two commissions were formed nine years after the ceasefire because the two former enemies had by then become the state and did not want war crimes to be raked up. The 2015 earthquake became the pretext for delaying the appointment of the first group of commissioners, and Covid pandemic became the second. The inability of the three main political parties to agree on appointments meant the commissions stayed vacant for years. Both the commissions have also had their mandates extended since 2017. There are over 60,000 complaints registered at both commissions, of which 63,000 wartime excesses were at the TRC and 3,300 cases of disappearances at the CIEDP. But not a single case was investigated, and the perpetrators brought to justice. International human rights agencies have repeatedly called for amendments in the acts of the commissions, which have been endorsed but lack implementation.&nbsp; Says Ram Bhandari of the National Network of the Victims of Serious Human Rights Violations: “The implementation of the acts is in limbo. A major concern is that political leaders have tried to take the process ahead single-handedly.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025061212060_11e8b9f431e1cf23e4199128d2c037a5ed8edb09448c99b5f3c3f425ed9712d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025061212060_11e8b9f431e1cf23e4199128d2c037a5ed8edb09448c99b5f3c3f425ed9712d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1250" height="856" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering not to forget war crimes NT"> <figcaption>Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala and Maoist leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal shake hands after signing the Comprehensive Peace Accord in 2006. Photo: SAGAR SHRESTHA / NEPALI TIMES ARCHIVE</figcaption> </figure>  Just as the Maoists and the &nbsp;parties they fought against are now in Parliament and are a part of Nepal’s democratic system, families of victims whose kin were killed by both sides have now also united in their call for justice for war crimes.&nbsp; For example, Suman Adhikari’s father Mukti Adhikari, who was a teacher in a village school in Lamjung, was executed by Maoist guerrillas in 2002. Ram Bhandari’s father who was also a teacher was disappeared by the Army in 2001 from Besisahar. The Supreme Court in 2020 upheld that there cannot be amnesties for serious crimes like torture and enforced disappearances as per international law. Nearly 1,400 people were disappeared by both sides during the 10-year conflict, and 322 cases of war rape and of sexual violence have been registered in both commissions. “Cases of sexual violence must be registered three months post the issuance of the notice, not from the date of incident,” states Geeta Rasaili of the Conflict Victims National Women Network. “Such cases must be treated with utmost sensitivity, ensuring the victims’ protection of identity. This can be done only by capable and experienced personnel.” Much like everything else, transitional justice in Nepal is political. Successive governments since 2006 have been made up of former rebels who committed war crimes and Nepali Congress (NC) ministers who were in power during the insurgency, and this has undermined the process. “The key decision makers in the government from both sides are the same people who were involved in human rights violations during the conflict,” says Ram Bhandari. “The peace process has therefore become perpetrator centric, rather than victim centric.” Suman Adhikari echoes this view: “Instead of being answerable and responsible towards the victims in the justice process, the leaders have instead been looking to protect their own interests. Our voices and representation have largely been ignored, the leaders have been continuously trying to delay, dilute and deny the process.” After 2006, the peace process was steered by the United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN) which supervised camps to disarm and demobilise the guerrillas. Initially, there was strong financial support and political pressure from Western countries and rights groups for Nepal’s transitional justice process.&nbsp; But with America backsliding on democracy and human rights and Europe increasingly distracted by the Ukraine-Russia war, the West has lost much of its moral high ground.&nbsp; This has coincided with the rise of emerging global powers, China and India, in Nepal’s neighbourhood who have never been big on human rights and freedom of expression. At its current pace, it may take decades to resolve all the 67,000 cases registered in both the commissions — which suits the NC and Maoists fine since time is on their side. However, the lethargy in sanctioning reparations and investigations will further erode public trust, and risk a future resurgence of violence fuelled by vengeance. Rights activists recommended that rather than compiling and making bulky reports of cases, they should be sent to the attorney general in batches with periodic reports. But there is little political will to even do this.&nbsp; Says transitional justice expert Rajendra Senchurey: “The process of investigations, truth-seeking and archiving must be expedited. Reparations also must be fast tracked alongside.” &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250612110656_6462e7168ada9450dd629a5063fcb45686e91b1884bb62f3ff2cf4f6c088037f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250612110656_6462e7168ada9450dd629a5063fcb45686e91b1884bb62f3ff2cf4f6c088037f" data-rendition-name="original" width="988" height="443" loading="lazy" alt="Remembering not to forget war crimes NT"> </figure>

Remembering not to forget war crimes

This week it will be 29 years since the Maoist faction of the Communist Party of Nepal launched its armed struggle against <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/if-birendra-was-alive-nepal-could-still-be-a-monarchy">Nepal’s constitutional monarchy</a>. It had been just six years since the People’s Movement had forced <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/preserving-king-birendra-s-family-home">King Birendra </a>to abandon the absolute monarchy of the partyless Panchayat system. But the Maoist party felt that parliamentary democracy was too slow a process to end entrenched <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/feudalism-to-federalism">feudalism</a> in the country. They give Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, who was on his first term as prime minister, a 40-point demand and an ultimatum to fulfil them. There was no way many of those demands could be fulfilled in stipulated time, and Deuba went off to New Delhi on a state visit. The Maoists did not even wait till he returned to launch armed attacks on police stations in Gorkha, Rolpa and other districts. At first the rulers in Kathmandu did not take the attacks seriously, and treated it like an ordinary law-and-order issue. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-geopolitics-of-nepal-s-politics?fbclid=IwY2xjawEuOktleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHcCK3p7P-idPc6TBvU9rJebDNgb7ANxs2mx508KjmiGBQDCxk77FUhBRow_aem_j0MdlBmrAbqvY_AFnwKx1A">The geopolitics of Nepal’s politics…</a>, Shristi Karki But, as we know from history, the violence spread like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/wildfire-season-starts-early-in-nepal">wildfire across the country</a>. With light weapons and low morale, the police were incapable of dealing with the spreading insurgency and added fuel to the fire with their own atrocities during the ‘Kilo Sierra’ operations. The Maoists attacked the Royal Nepal Army for the first time in 2001, five months after the royal massacre and the fighting intensified. Many of the incidents of this frightful decade in Nepal’s history is included in Dhangadi-based journalist Dirgha Raj Upadhyay’s book द्वन्द्व पत्रकारिताको एक दशक. One of the chapters deals with Prime Minister Deuba’s own providential escape during a Maoist ambush on his motorcade at Pahalmanpur on the highway to Surkhet in 2003. His bodyguards and the driver of the vehicles risked their lives to save him. Deuba was the chief guest at the recent launch of Upadhayay’s book in Kathmandu, and with him on the podium was Lekhraj Bhatta, the former Maoist commander of Seti-Mahakali area (pictured). In his speech, Bhatta echoed what the Maoists had said after the ambush, that the attack was a mistake and not aimed at Deuba. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/14-years-after-conflict-no-closure-in-nepal">14 years after conflict, no closure in Nepal</a> When his turn came to take to the podium, Deuba retorted: “It is a mistake to shoot anyone during a ceasefire. It was a mistake to resort to violence.” The exchange showed that the memories of the 10 year conflict are still fresh, 19 years after it ended — however much the two opposing sides try to bury their excesses. Enemies are now the state, and have abandoned the bullet for the ballot but many Nepalis are asking whether the ten years of carnage was worth it. Upadhyay’s book is a documentation of some of the greatest battles and loss of life in western Nepal during the conflict and after. He describes in graphic detail a government that was confined to district headquarters, but not safe even there. A terrified populace sought safety of the cities, or migrated to India. Maoists asked for ‘vias’ to enter their base areas, soldiers at security posts doing strict checks rudely interrogated civilians. Reading all this takes us back to the decade of violence and conflict that left scars on the nation and society. There are descriptions of reporters being helicoptered into army bases while Maoists fired mortars nearby, of attending a Maoist meeting which dispersed on hearing gunships flying overhead, the battle of Pandaun, a field report of villages terrorised by both sides in Accham. As the regional member of the Federation of Nepalese Journalists (FNJ) Upadhyay was called upon to mediate on behalf of journalists like Lucky Chaudhari in Kailali or Dekendra Thapa in Dailekh. Chaudhari was released by the Army, but Thapa disappeared and his body was exhumed after the war ended. He had been buried alive after torture. And he covered the death in custody of Maoist journalist Krishna Sen. The end of the war did not bring peace, and Upadhyay had to work to free journalists jailed and tortured after King Gyanendra’s coup, including Nagendra Upadhyay. Like many war correspondents, much of this work was dangerous. And Upadhyay writes in his book: ‘The Nepali public relied on journalists for correct information. But who do we journalists rely on for our safety?’ The book draws attention to the fact that in most modern wars, it is the civilians who are caught in the crossfire. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/all-is-fair-in-war-and-peace">The Maoist conflict</a> happened before social media spread, and both sides craved sympathetic coverage in the press. It was perhaps expected that the Maoists, as a rebel force, would force reporters to write as instructed. But what was not acceptable was that the state and its security forces being democratically elected and adhering to the rule of law would also respect basic human rights and not use the media as a propaganda tool.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025020210024_6d026854835f6ede3b8d275165346dd70a948cf6bbf67c0e1c8671a6b3e680e2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025020210024_6d026854835f6ede3b8d275165346dd70a948cf6bbf67c0e1c8671a6b3e680e2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1136" height="702" loading="lazy" alt="Book details"> </figure>

29 years since start of Maoist war

After I joined the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16458">United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN</a>) in June 2007 as the Language and Admin Assistant, I was assigned to the Arms Monitor section in Nepalganj. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14221">UNMIN</a> was established by the UN Security Council after the end of the Maoist conflict to monitor and implement the Comprehensive Peace Accord of 2006. Aside from other peacekeeping work, UNMIN maintained and administered <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17163">demobilised Maoist guerrillas</a> in seven main and 21 satellite <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17020">camps across Nepal</a>.
My main role in Nepalganj was to assist the international Sector Commander during meetings with various officials in the Mid-western region, including CDOs of various districts, politicians, security personnel from the police and army.
The first meeting of the Jordanian Sector Commander was at the Nepal Army barrack in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/bardia-s-birds">Bardia</a>. Our group consisted of 9 people from the Arms Monitor section from various countries. The Jordanian’s English was easy to understand but the accents of others was harder to comprehend.
Read also:<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/lost-in-translation"> Lost in translation</a>, Alisha Sijapati
We received a warm welcome from the Nepal Army, and the Battalion Commander explained the situation in the area, and gave us a tour of the base. I was nervous, but thought I had handled the interpretation well enough. Following the meeting, the soldiers served us breakfast.
Inside the personal dining room of the Battalion Commander, I noticed sandwiches, sliced mangoes, Coke, toast, jam, and butter laid out on the table. As we were getting ready to begin, a soldier approached the Commander and whispered something in his ear. The Commander then looked at me and asked, “लोकल कुखुराको मासु र चिउरा खान्छन् कि सोध्नु त?”
I turned to the Jordanian Sector Commander and was relaying the question but got stuck, “Would you like to eat local chicken with...”
Looking back at the Commander I asked: “चिउरालाई के भन्छन् अङ्ग्रेजीमा?” He found it hilarious that I did not know what चिउरा was is in English, and said, “Bitten Rice, हैन त?” He responded as if I had confirmed his unofficial translation. I then finished my sentence to the Sector Commander, asking whether he would like local chicken with “bitten” rice.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/mai-commin-sir-qfdjg2uw">"Mai commin, Sir?"</a>, Anbika Giri
Being an interpreter was fun because of gaffes like that that are funny in hindsight. The international staff of the Arms Monitor section were friendly, and were understanding of my difficult sometimes interpreting their English accents. They spoke in brief, simple sentences to make it easy for me.
After the ‘bitten rice’ episode, one day our team was being led by a Swedish military officer for a meeting with the Senior Superintendent of the Nepal Police. We arrived at his station, but he was not there because his force had been busy evicting members of the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16873">Maoist Young Communist League (YCL)</a> from a house where they were occupying.
Luckily, both sides resolved the situation through dialogue, and the tension subsided. After meeting the YCL leader, we wanted to get the Police’s side of the story. When the SSP finally arrived, he looked preoccupied and we began promptly once he took his seat.
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19640">"If I were to tell you everything I know about Prachanda ..."</a>
As I was translating his lengthy introduction of himself into a more concise version, I mistakenly referred to him as a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) rather than an SSP, which seemed to upset him. He asked me to repeat his full introduction correctly, including details about his long and illustrious career.
I quickly apologised and translated his introduction accurately. The Swedish army officer was seated across from him, jotting down notes. The SSP could read his English notes, and instructed me to tell the Swede to write down everything. (“मेरो पुरा परिचय लेख्न भन”)
I told the SSP politely that I was just the interpreter and could not tell the UNMIN officer what to write and not to write in his notebook. The short meeting ended, and the SSP insisted again that I tell the Swedish army officer to add a few more sentences of his introduction to his notes, and not just write ‘SSP’. (“एक दुई वाक्य थप्न भन्नु । ठ्यास्स एसएसपी मात्र त के लेखेको ।”
I held back my laughter because there was no way I could translate “ठ्यास्स” into English. There just is not an equivalent word, and it would need a whole sentence to get the thought across: “Perfunctorily just jot down the bare minimum and get it over with”, or words to that effect.
Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">From humiliation to humility</a>, Anbika Giri
Having a limited English vocabulary, making tons of grammatical errors, and feeling nervous were even more challenging when meeting politicians. It was hard to figure out where politicians put full stops and commas in their sonorous speeches.
Once in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/northwestern-tip-of-nepal-Humla,3430#google_vignette">Simikot of Humla district</a>, I was interpreting speeches at a gathering of over 100 members from various political parties. Everyone spoke passionately as if it was their last chance to be heard. I struggled to understand the local dialect – this was northwestern Nepal, and I am from the southeast.
The subject of the speeches was the rehabilitation of those <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war">forced to flee during the Maoist insurgency</a>. A young man, who seemed agitated, was yelling loudly. I stepped in to translate that his family had been forced from home due to the conflict when he was just 16. He was sent to Kathmandu for further education while his parents stayed in a rented house in Nepalganj.
Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13684">Youthful rivalry</a>, JOHN NARAYAN PARAJULI
All this was fairly easy to translate, but then he began angrily criticising a leader of the Maoist Party, using rude language. How could I translate such words into English? Besides, I did not even know the English equivalent of those local swearwords.
“मेरो कुरा अङ्ग्रेजीमा भन्दिनु” thundered the man in a menacing voice, asking me not to leave anything out. The Sector Commander asked what the man was going on about, and I told him I did not understand and apologised, while the man kept interrupting and accused me of not translating his tirade, and being biased.
I finally told the man: “तपाईंको गाली मलाई अङ्ग्रेजीमा भन्न आएन। गाली ट्रान्सलेट गर्न आको हो म?” (I cannot translate your curses. Am I here to translate your profanity?)He shouted back (expletives beeped out): “किन जागिर खाको त ? बाउको सोर्स होला... beep... beep... beep..” (Then why were you hired? Your Dad must know someone…)
I moved on to next person in the audience and completely ignored him. However, today as I think back at that day in Humla his angry words still ring in my ears. I wish now I could have told him that I got the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17292">UNMIN</a> interpreter job because a friend had heard about the opening and I filled out the UN’s complicated P11 application form. My Dad had no idea what I was getting into.
Anbika Giri is a novelist and author of children’s books in Nepali. Angrezi is her monthly column in Nepali Times about learning English in Nepal. Read earlier instalments of Angrezi, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/angrezi/from-humiliation-to-humility">here</a>.

Me, the Interpreter

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe114c9c7e80680e0da4d3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1104"/><figcaption>Maoist child soldiers in a corn field in the Tarai in 2004. PHOTO: DAMBAR KRISHNA SHRESTHA/A PEOPLE WAR</figcaption></figure>On <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/13-february/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">13 February 1996</a> the Maoist party decided to take a shortcut to power. It abandoned mainstream politics and the democratic system, and instead adopted a path of violence to cleanse Nepal of ‘class enemies’. They did get to power, but at an immense cost to the people.Over 17,000 Nepalis were killed, thousands of children orphaned, women widowed. The 1990 Constitution failed. Violence, hatred, suspicion spread, democracy was threatened.The violence propelled the Maoists to power with a landslide victory in the 2008 Constituent Assembly election, but the path of peaceful politics was not easy for a party that believed political power came out the barrel of a gun.In consecutive elections since 2008, the party got fewer and fewer votes. At the current rate, its political future is bleak at best.The 1990 Constitution empowered Nepalis, and monarchy had to relinquish its absolute powers. The elected legislature was supreme, and it was alive and vibrant. The judiciary and the Supreme Court were many times more dignified than they are today.The Nepali Congress (NC) emerged as the biggest party in the 1991 general election, while Unified Marxist–Leninist (UML), back then only called Marxist–Leninist, also established itself as a formidable force.The United People’s Front of Nepal (UPFN) chaired by Baburam Bhattarai won only nine seats -- two of them were Krishna Bahadur Mahara and Lila Mani Pokhrel.The UPFN realised that it was going to take a long time to defeat the NC and UML through elections. Inspired by Mao Zedong, they felt Communists must wage an armed struggle.In the intervening years, the party split and a militant faction led by ‘Prachanda’ led the Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) to launch the armed struggle on 13 February 1996 against ‘feudal forces’.They were ambitious, and the armed conflict was a quick way to power by playing into contradictions between the NC, UML and the Palace. Police high handedness in cracking down against the rebels drove more people into the Maoist fold.I was the editor of Deshantar  weekly, and from day one had no sympathy for Maoist violence. Many of the 40 demands in the ultimatum Bhattarai presented to Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba on 1 February 1996 were impractical and populist.But the Maoists had found the right time to strike while the iron was hot. The Palace, which had ruled for 30 years, had been forced to give up its absolute power in 1990, and there were hardliners unhappy about it. The UML was not clear about its ideology, either.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/ghosts-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ghosts of war</a>, Sonia Awale<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11509c7e80680e0da4d4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1111"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Then there was India. While the Maoists played the nationalist card by voicing anti-Indian sentiments in Nepal, across the border they got support and weapons training, the Maoists felt special and they now had to prove themselves.The use of ruthless violence in a society that had not witnessed such bloodshed was a rude shock. The Maoists did not just kill people, they made them suffer and circulated the news widely. Terror was used as a weapon to terrify people.I remember one case in Sindhuli, where they accused a man of exploitation and killed him by crushing his knees with boulders. Such brutality worked because it had a multiplier effect in instilling fear. They robbed banks which increased their resource base.Their main target was the NC, especially its grassroots leaders. They initially did not harm the UML, which they regarded as fraternal Communists. This gave Maoists more access, since the UML was leading many local VDCs.The 1997 by-election also benefited the Maoists since it was a hung Parliament and the NC and UML got Surya Bahadur Thapa and Lokendra Chanda Thapa of the rightwing RPP to take turns being prime minister, and gave people the feeling nothing had changed.But NC won the majority in the 1999 election, which was a major setback for the Maoists. Girija Prasad Koirala, a staunch anti-Communist, became Prime Minister. By this point, the Maoists had started attacking the UML too, because of their local support.The Maoist tactics were straight out of Mao’s Red Book: start by capturing remote parts of the country, and cut them off. They extorted villagers and raised levies, and those who did not pay were made examples of: either killed, tortured or publicly humiliated.One of the most tragic examples of this was the case of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6369#.Y-XIii8w1KM" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Muktinath Adhikari</a>, a teacher from Lamjung who was executed in 2002 by the Maoists. In Okhaldhunga, where I come from, another teacher was dragged around the village and tortured until he died, and his body was hung from a tree next to his school.In another case, bank staff transporting money were looted. I wrote an editorial in Deshantar saying this was not a revolution but daylight robbery. In response, Janadesh, a mouthpiece of the Maoists, carried an interview with Baburam Bhattarai in which he said I should be buried alive in the same hole dug up to bury Girija Prasad Koirala.Later, as editor of Himal Khabarpatrika, we were clear about our support for democracy, non-violence and pluralism. And we never used the word ‘terrorist’ to describe the Maoists.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11549c7e80680e0da4d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="591" height="800"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>When the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-turning-point-dunai-17-years-later,3980" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoists attacked Dunai</a> in 2000, the first raid on a district capital, Yubaraj Ghimire, editor of Kantipur, chartered a helicopter to the site before even the state could do a proper survey. The next morning, pictures and testimonials of terrified villagers made it to the front pages in Kathmandu.This became a trend. The attack on Naumule in 2002, and images of piles of dead bodies got similar coverage. I also used to assign photographers who were going with the dailies. But we were still not getting the real story, we were just counting the bodies. We felt we needed more independent reports, not propaganda from both sides.For example, we bought 7 photographs of the Dunai attack in which it was clear that the Maoists were using child soldiers. The young boy was carrying a light machine gun. After it was published, the Maoists for the first time were defensive before the international community. They had previously denied ever recruiting children.But we needed to do more, and especially to show how the conflict was affecting ordinary people. So we kept up with as much field reporting as possible when the Maoist attacks escalated. Other media were also doing in-depth coverage from the war zones.The Maoists then started countering this with their own perspective in the same newspapers. They sponsored trips for journalists to their ‘base areas’. After the Royal Nepal Army entered the war in 2002, it started doing the same.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11589c7e80680e0da4d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1236" height="829"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In 2004, the Maoists had taken a group of journalists to one of their mass meetings. The news and photographs were published in all major dailies, they all said 15,000 people had come to listen to the Maoist leaders.Because we were a fortnightly magazine, we had a few more days to verify, so we went with 10,000. That evening before the magazine went to press, the reporter asked me to change it back to 15,000 because of the fear of repercussions from the Maoists. We went with 15,000, but after that we stopped accepting conducted tours.By the peak of the war in 2000, the Maoist ambition was to oust both the NC and UML and ally with the Palace such that the king would head Narayanhiti and the Maoists Singha Darbar. This in turn heightened the ambition of the Palace, and its direct impact was on its reluctance to deploy the Army against the Maoists despite Girija Prasad Koirala pushing for it.Koirala and other leaders asked the palace to mobilise the Army, but the palace would not budge. Nepal Police had only 25,000 personnel armed with 303 S. They were no match for the politically motivated and battle-hardened guerrillas.But as the conflict escalated, the political parties were unable to circumvent the Constitutional provision that required the king to mobilise the army, and set up the Armed Police Force (AFP). The Maoists continued their offensive, and attacked the AFP, even killing its first chief Krishna Mohan Shrestha. Yet, the Army would still not intervene or even equip the AFP with proper weaponry.No one knows how things would have turned out if the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18246" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Royal Massacre of 2001</a> had not taken place, and the entire family of King Birendra wiped out. In the beginning, King Gyanendra continued the same policy, but then in 2002 he went a step further, declared political parties incapable, and took absolute power.The Maoists were encouraged by this move, it brought them closer to their power-sharing deal with the Palace by excluding the democratic parties. The NC split over the decision to call a state emergency, and the UML was also divided.Through all this, New Delhi still supported the monarchy, which gave Gyanendra the confidence to consolidate his authoritarian moves. But the Europeans and Americans entered into the picture, and given the strategic value of Nepal, saw the India-monarchy tie-up to their detriment. So when the West showed its hand, India backed off, and that was the downfall of Nepal’s monarchy as well.The Maoists could not take over the country with the force of arms, which was why there was a ceasefire in 2006. The insurgency did make Nepalis more aware of their rights, and the Maoists provided a platform for suppressed groups who were easy recruits. Doors did open for women, Dalits and excluded ethnicities, but in a real sense class, caste and ethnic  divisions still exist.In every other sense, the conflict ravaged Nepal and its people. It destroyed dreams and lives, it set back development. We would have achieved better results and sooner with peaceful democratic evolution.After the 1990 People’s Movement, Nepal’s economy grew and there had been real hope for the future. Local elections had started to bring up accountable leaders. If this had been allowed to continue, Nepal would have been a different (and better) place today. The Comprehensive Peace Accord in 2006 was not an agreement, but a compromise.But perhaps the biggest impact of the conflict was on the politics that followed. Today, Parliament is a farce, the Supreme Court has no dignity, and there is no real federalism. The younger generation is growing up with no knowledge of the Maoist conflict. Impunity is rife because those who committed atrocities have gotten away with it. As a society, we have become more intolerant.<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/transitional-injustice-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Transitional justice</a> is now synonymous with hypocrisy. The commissions mandated with delivering it have been taken over by politicians. The Maoist conflict has eroded not just democratic institutions, but the state itself. We must not forget to remember what the war did to Nepal and its people.In the last 30 years we have made dramatic progress in some areas, but did we need a Maoist conflict for that?It is easier to look at the positive aspects, and move on from painful memories. Ask the survivors and the relatives of the victims. If we must say there were some achievements of ten years of war, then we must also admit that there were bigger losses that are still being felt.Rajendra Dahal is the former editor of Deshantar and Himal Khabarpatrika, and is now editor of Shikshak magazine.Read Also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepal's unpunished war crimes</a>, Sabita Adhikari

All is fair in war (and peace)

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203d59c7e80680e0b282bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"/><figcaption>Bhakta Bahadur Regmi with Rabin and Rabina in Kathmandu last week speaking about a traumatic tragedy 20 years ago that changed their lives. All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure>It was exactly 20 years ago that Rabina Regmi and her brother Rabin were travelling with their parents when their bus was attacked with petrol bombs by Maoists along the East-West Highway in Sarlahi.As the fire spread, the driver lost control and the bus toppled over into a ditch. Rabina, aged 5 and Rabin, 3, and their mother, Anju, were the last to be rescued.All three suffered severe burns, and a video taken at the time shows the two children huddled around their mother, crying and in shock.Anju died after two weeks of pain and agony in a hospital in Raxaul. Rabina had burns all over her face, her hands and stomach. Rabin had burns on his face, a gash on his head, deep cut on his leg and his left hand was broken. Two other passengers also lost their lives in the attack.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2681#.Yd3XUy8w3u1">Rabin and Rabina</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203d89c7e80680e0b282cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="500" height="632"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203db9c7e80680e0b282djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="427"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203de9c7e80680e0b282ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e19c7e80680e0b282fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="162" height="462">After Nepali Times reporter <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4138#.Yd01MmhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D4138%23.Yd01MmhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3xCd8ewhrV9Mu4ia5bOtYQ">Naresh Newar’s story</a> appeared in this newspaper in 2002 (left), the tragedy came to represent the face of a meaningless war, and there was an <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10418#.Yd01s2hBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D10418%23.Yd01s2hBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0k9ll2ElmCFl161aiP0SgQ">outpouring of support from readers</a>. Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital offered <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4485#.Yd01uGhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D4485%23.Yd01uGhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2vHaXELYbwVRMJ58aPNrLT">reconstructive surgery to the children</a>, and Bright Horizon Children’s Home and School took responsibility for their education till college.“Telling their story was important because there wasn’t enough coverage on how the war was affecting children,” says Naresh Newar. “The Maoist were attacking public spaces without regards to who may be affected from their actions, this story showed the victim’s side of story.”Newar followed up with the family numerous times and is grateful for the positive impact it had for the family. The last time he met them, the siblings were happily settled in at the school.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1fsjRXaEHUThe Regmi family's tragedy and ordeal was depicted in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Nation-sibling-war-juna-rai,731">A People War</a>, a photo book trilogy curated by Kunda Dixit and featured in Kesang Tseten and Prem BK's documentary <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2009/10/27/a-state-of-lawlessness/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Frames of War</a> (clip, above).   Now aged 25 and 23, Rabina and Rabin still bear scars from the tragedy, but are determined to not let their past hold them back. Rabina is a final year BBA student at Global College of Management and wants to get into banking. Rabin is doing his BSc in Agriculture from Chandigarh University. After the campus closed last year due to the pandemic, he in Kathmandu attending online classes.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4138#.Yd3XSS8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Why the children?</a>, Naresh Newar<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e39c7e80680e0b2830jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e69c7e80680e0b2831jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">Their father Bhakta Bahadur Regmi is a forest ranger stationed in Hetauda, the same job he had 20 years ago. He is grateful for all the help his children have got over the years from the school, hospital, and others, but says it has been two decades of struggle without their mother.There has been no help from the state. “Everywhere we go, they ask for identification cards proving that we are conflict victims. But we don’t have any papers to prove that,” he says. Even today, he carries a folder of newspaper cuttings and old medical records of his children.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203e99c7e80680e0b2832jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was mandated to provide identification cards to conflict survivors, and inform them about investigations into war crimes. But without political connections, and no time to scour many government offices, Bhakta Bahadur and his family have been left to fend for themselves. The attackers were never identified and did not have to answer for their crime.For the past 20 years, Rabina and Rabin have needed numerous operations to heal their wounds, including reconstructive and orthopedic surgery, laser treatment, even hair transplant. The fees for surgeries are waived or subsidised, but the cost of travel, medicines and hospital stay add up.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12867#.Yd3XRy8w3u1">New life</a>, Naresh Newar<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203ec9c7e80680e0b2833jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="640">In 2015, when Rabina was getting another of her laser treatments for burn scars, the Indian blockade led to a shortage of medicines. “The doctors had to perform the procedure without anesthesia and it was very painful,” recalls Bhakta Bahadur. Later, her wounds got infected and she had to get it treated again. Rabin has not had laser surgery due to financial constraints.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/psychological-scars-%20of-maoist-conflict-on-young-survivors-take-longer-to-heal,1519" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Post-conflict stress syndrome</a>, Taylor Caldwell<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f09c7e80680e0b2834jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="161" height="242">At Bright Horizon, the siblings aced their studies. Rabin passed his SEE with a GPA of 3.85, the highest from his batch. Rabina was also a good student, and the school is still helping them with college fees, while their father struggles to cover other costs.The first year Rabina was at the boarding school, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12867#.Yd0szmhBxPZ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D12867%23.Yd0szmhBxPZ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642003161641000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1HzBsDJ5lqZZQWUUsNOHQp">she ran away</a>. “I did not know anyone there and I missed home,” she says. “But later, it became our home. Both of us made life-long friends there.”<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f29c7e80680e0b2835jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="161" height="242">Bhakta Bahadur describes Rabina as the calm one. Rabin on the other hand was a mischievous little boy. He says, “Both of them felt at home at Bright Horizon, when I went to pick them up during holidays, they’d refuse to come home saying their mother wasn’t there.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4485#.Yd3XUS8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rabina and Rabin in hospital</a>, Naresh NewarAt school, Rabina made it a point to look out for her brother. Every time Rabin got into fights with his friends, his elder sister would come to his rescue. Today, the two share their hopes and dreams, supporting each other and hope to take care of their father who has sacrificed all to raise them.Weary of the country’s situation, Rabina now wants to go abroad for her MBA. Rabin wants to complete his MSc and then try for the civil exams. “The two of us came to the conclusion that one of us should go abroad and the other should stay back,” says Rabin. “We have seen how much difference having a family member abroad makes for the economic wellbeing of families.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10418#.Yd3XTy8w3u1" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rs 199,349 for Rabina and Rabin Regmi</a>, Nepali Times<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203f59c7e80680e0b2836jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="363" height="242">Having brought up the children on his own, Bhakta Bahadur still worries about their future. But he is happy the two have become responsible young adults ready to take charge of their own lives.Rabina says with determination, “We have had to depend on our father for so long. Now, we want to look after him, and our family.”Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13966#.Yd3XSi8w3u1">Remembering hell</a>, Nepali Times<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/burning-in-the-aftermath,3757" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Burning in the aftermath</a>, Sahina Shrestha

Sahina Shrestha

The scars of war

After the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.YV7B7tVBypp">decade-long Maoist conflict</a> ended in 2006, ex-guerrilla commanders and local governments here saw great potential for <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15759#.YV6VzNVBypo">‘war tourism’</a> in the revolutionary heartland.These craggy and remote mountains of mid-western Nepal were where the Maoists launched their armed struggle in February 1996, and many obscure villages like <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870">Holeri, Khara and Gam</a> became household words because of the famous battle that raged there.More than 15 years after the war ended, the former guerrillas have been in and out of government many times and have earmarked a budget every year to take the region ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/issue/340/Nation/13344#.YV6Xs9VBypo">from Maoism to tourism’</a>. The idea is to use the historical memory of the conflict to honour the sacrifices of those who died in the insurgency, <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15759#.YV7BkNVBypo">generate income from trekking tourism</a>, and create local jobs. In the past 15 years, the central government alone has spent Rs500 million to promote ‘war tourism’. But the money has mostly been doled out to the cadre of the Maoist Centre party, which is once again a member of the coalition government in Kathmandu now.<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=14230#.YV7BftVBypo">Rolpa today</a> is as neglected as ever, former guerrilla commanders who are in government have not done much to provide health and education, or lift the living standards of the people in whose name they fought a war of liberation.An example of the enormous waste of money is a safe house in Rolpa in which Maoist Supreme Commander Prachanda (Pushpa Kamal Dahal) once sought shelter in 2001 during the conflict. In 2019, the local infrastructure initiative spent Rs10 million to renovate this house ostensibly to turn it into a museum. The mud and thatch two-storey house belongs to the brother of Maoist leader Jayapuri Gharti, and another of her brothers was made the chair of the project. The money was used to purchase the house and build a metal structure to shelter the shelter from the elements.“All that money was spent for nothing,” says Anil KC, a Maoist from the Biplav faction. “They brought some journalists here and took some pictures. I don’t think any tourists have come this way.”   Of the 17,000 people who were killed in the conflict, nearly 1,000 were from <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6187#.YV6i09VBypo">Rolpa district</a>. And 35 of the 1,380 people still listed as missing are also from the district in which the Maoists launched their armed struggle on 13 February 1996 with an attack on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/">Holeri police post.</a> <figure><img width="512" height="384" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d181f9c7e80680e0ac7a5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>A functionless cement welcome gate erected at enormous cost in 2016 in Thawang, the village that was a stronghold of the Maoists during the conflict. Photos: MAHESH NEUPANE </figcaption></figure>Right after the conflict ended, the Ministry of Peace in Kathmandu allocated Rs1.1 million to build a ‘martyrs gate’ in Holeri that would also <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5571#.YV6jbtVBypo">commemorate the first Maoist attack</a>. There is no sign of the gate today.“There was a gate here, but since so much of the money was embezzled during its construction, those involved demolished it, saying they needed to widen a road,” says the mayor of Runtogadi Balaram Buda. In 2011, the district administration allocated Rs 17 million for nine projects to develop trekking infrastructure in Rolpa. After the 2017 election, municipal, provincial and federal governments have paid out more money to build rest houses, repair trails and construct view towers along the paths that the guerrillas used.   Similarly, the Peace Ministry had doled out Rs1.86 million seven years ago to construct a memorial to Maoist commander Khim Thapa in Sulichaur. It was never built.  <figure><img width="512" height="384" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18219c7e80680e0ac7a6jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“I remember before I was elected, some bulldozers were levelling the site, but I have no idea why the park was never built,” says ward chair Ganj Chhetri.In April 2001, 44 Maoists were killed in a fierce battle in Pategumchal of Rolpa. Seven years ago, the Ministry of Peace allocated Rs1.55 million to build a memorial column at the site of the battle.A cement shed and latrine were built, but they are not usable. After pressure from local people, a committee headed by Nar Bahadur Pun finally built a makeshift gate.The village of Gam of Rolpa district made national headlines in 2002 after <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6167#.YV6jXNVBypo">a fierce battle that killed 35 Maoists</a> and left 106 police and civil servants dead. There is a ‘martyrs’ pillar’ to commemorate the battle, but it looks abandoned. “All they did was steal the money meant for those who died, they just built this to show they did something,” says local Deu Gharti Magar.The municipality got another Rs3.2 million to build a ‘martyrs’ memorial peace park’ under the chairmanship of Maoist Centre leader Ramesh Buda. It was also never built. Local Maoist leaders are uncomfortable when asked about where all the money went.Another Rs3.2 million was given to a committee to build a martyrs’ memorial park in Jankot. Some of it was used to buy the land, but nothing was built, and it looks like the rest of the money has vanished. <figure><img width="512" height="384" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18239c7e80680e0ac7a7jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Despite questions about how building martyrs’ gates and pillars will help promote ‘war tourism’, budget outlays have continued to local committees for projects that lack any utility. And even the money set aside to build those memorials is misused, or simply stolen.In Dubi Danda of Rolpa, Rs2.5 million was given between 2011-2015 to build a park, but all that was done was construct a makeshift shed and the site levelled to make a helipad. It is the same story in Gangadev municipality – Rs3.2 million was given to a local committee that hired a bulldozer to clear the slope, and nothing was built.  In 1999, police captured 11 members of a Maoist cultural troupe in Bhawang, executed them and burnt the bodies. The Peace Ministry allocated Rs2.5 million to build a memorial for them, but today there is just a shed ringed with barbed wire at the site where the guerrillas’ bodies were set alight. <figure><img width="512" height="384" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18259c7e80680e0ac7a8jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In numerous other places, money has been given to local Maoist cadres to build parks, but aside from a memorial in Thawang, either nothing was ever built or whatever was constructed has no tangible value to the public. Altogether Rs12 million was given for park projects in Iribang, Gajul and Thawang. “They have exploited our grief and bereavement to enrich themselves,” says Dev Bahadur Oli, whose brother Sundar was killed by the security forces in 2002. “The money is just a handout to the party cadre to rent dozers, it is not transparent at all.”Rolpa ranks 67th out of Nepal’s 77 districts in the Human Development Index (HDI). The district needs better schools and more hospitals, roads and bridges need to be upgraded, and people who lost their jobs during the pandemic need help. Yet, all three levels of government keep wasting money on physical monuments that have no public service function – even if they are built. Khem Buda Magar, who headed the now-defunct District Peace Committee, says it is not just the misuse of state resources to build so-called parks and memorials, but such projects have failed to honour those who died or were disappeared, and their relatives feel they are also forgotten.   Rolpa’s elected representatives see much potential in trekking as tourism rebounds after the Covid-19 pandemic. In fact, all local governments have put trekking tourism top on the list of priorities. In the 2018-19 fiscal year, Madi, Paribartan and Thawang municipality spent altogether Rs4.5 million for so-called ‘tourism development’. In addition, Lumbini Province in this year’s budget allocated Rs20 million for tourism infrastructure in Thawang. <figure><img width="347" height="462" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18279c7e80680e0ac7a9jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Even the Ministry of Tourism and Civil Aviation under the federal government has granted Rs7.5 million for the ‘Guerrilla Trekking Trail’ along the Jaljala mountain. Of this, only a 1.8km path has been built by a local committee in Jelbang.Rs4 million was also given to Thawang for a ‘Yarsa Trekking Trail’ that follows the paths used by yarsagumba pickers. The municipality only built a 2.5km trail with the money, but it is not used much, says Thawang resident Sri Kumari Roka.“It is a trail to nowhere, why should anyone walk on it?” she asks.  <figure><img width="512" height="288" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d18289c7e80680e0ac7aajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Six of Rolpa’s local governments set aside Rs7.4 million last fiscal year for ‘war tourism’, and Lumbini Province allocated Rs5 million for the purpose.The whole town of Jelbang was supposed to be turned into a ‘model village’ to honour the 73 Maoists who were killed there in 2001, by helping their relatives. The Peace Ministry even granted Rs2.8 million for the purpose. But it was all spent on road repairs, and the ward chair says that was a joint decision.“The money that came to build model villages ended up giving some Maoist leaders and cadre a model lifestyle,” says local resident Bharat Roka mockingly.A former Maoist camp supervised by the United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN) in Triveni of Rolpa is being turned into a museum at a cost of Rs9 million. The project is headed by a local leader of the Maoist Centre Amar Dangi, who himself is related to Lumbini Province Chief Minister Kul Prasad KC.Another building in Thawang for a ‘Martyr Foundation’ was allocated Rs6.5 million, but it had been lying in its abandoned state until it was converted last year into an isolation centre for Covid-19 patients. <figure><img width="512" height="358" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d182a9c7e80680e0ac7abjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="334" height="512" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d182b9c7e80680e0ac7acjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Much of the rest of the money allocated for ‘war tourism’ is now being spent on building concrete view towers on mountain tops in Rolpa. Critics have questioned why mountain tops that are already very high need to be a few metres higher with these wasteful symbols. One such mountain is the 2,055m high Chuche Peak on top of which the local municipality is building a 10-floor 115m view tower at a cost of Rs48 million. Another view tower is sprouting near Holeri, the cradle of the Maoist revolution.All this construction is happening in a district where there are 200 government schools with nearly 70,000 students, but very few teachers. At Sunchahari municipality there are 5,000 students, the school buildings are rudimentary, and there is not a single secondary school teacher. The doctor-patient ratio in Rolpa is 1:25,000, and families have to walk for days just to reach a health post even for simple treatments for relatives.  Yet, all this does not seem to concern any of the three levels of government that have spent Rs30 million just on 90 <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15759#.YV7BkNVBypo">temples in the district.</a>One of the more useful projects has been the establishment of ethnic museums, with ones for Gurung, Magar and Dalit peoples. The Gurung Museum has exhibits and a homestay.  <figure><img width="512" height="243" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161124/636d182c9c7e80680e0ac7adjpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Erstwhile Finance Minister Barsha Man Pun, who was once a guerrilla commander, inaugurated an ‘Information Centre’ and an ‘indigenous museum’ for the war tourism project 12km from the district capital of Libang. No one is using the building, and it is falling apart. The war tourism initiative was launched without any study or business plan. It has not been promoted adequately, and has just been an excuse to distribute money to Maoist cadre, says Amar Singh Pun, a former minister from Rolpa.He adds: “This has been a colossal waste of money, a pretext for cash handouts to party loyalists.” This report was prepared by Mahesh Neupane for <a href="https://www.hamropatro.com/date-converter">the Centre for Investigative Journalism Nepal</a>. The Nepali original can be found <a href="https://cijnepal.org.np/cij-10/">here.</a>

Nepal’s ‘war tourism’ is a scam

<img width="1169" height="747" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110151120/636d08ca9c7e80680e0a603ajpeg.jpg" alt=""/>The Human Rights Watch (HRW) on Tuesday wrote a letter to Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba, urging him to uphold the rights of Nepali citizens and strengthen the rule of law.
Recent <a href="https://www.thelancet.com/action/showPdf?pii=S2214-109X(20)30345-4">reports</a> have revealed that the pandemic has decreased institutional delivery by half, increasing risks of premature birth, stillborn deliveries and newborn deaths, setting back Nepal’s past gains in maternal and child care.
Additionally, reduced family income coupled with prolonged school closures has pushed many Nepali children into labour, with projections that half of the girl students may not rejoin schools once they <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/half-of-nepals-girls-may-drop-out-of-school/">reopen</a>. Child marriages are on the rise.
“The new government should take measures to safeguard and continue progress on health and education, including through assistance for households whose livelihoods have been devastated by the pandemic,” says Meenakshi Ganguly, South Asia director at Human Rights Watch. “Safety nets are critical for ensuring that crises do not prevent children from continuing their education or harm progress on reducing child marriage and child labour.” 
The letter paid special attention to pressing human rights issues pertaining to Nepal’s failures in addressing war crime and transitional justice.
In 2015, Nepal formed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Commission of Investigation on Enforced Disappeared Persons. A year before that in 2014, the Supreme Court scrapped provisions in the transitional justice law that allows amnesty for offences including torture, murder, and enforced disappearance during Nepal’s armed conflict. The law has not been revised.
Successive governments have stopped conflict-era cases from being heard in regular courts citing the supposed transitional justice process, even as victim groups and Nepali human rights organisations have long questioned its credibility. 
But their protests seem to have fallen on deaf ears, one of Deuba’s first acts in office was to extend the terms of transitional justice commissioners by another year.
“Successive governments have stalled on delivering justice to victims for the many grave cases of abuse, preferring to protect the abusers instead,” adds Ganguly. “As a result, abuses continue while principles of accountability, the rule of law, and the independence of institutions have been eroded, with negative consequences for everyone in society.”
Nepal has made little progress in investigations of human rights violations at home despite being re-elected as a member of the United Nations Human Rights Council. This has had a corrosive impact on wider principles of accountability and the integrity of institutions.
Of late, Nepal has seen a marked increase in alleged extra-judicial killings, custodial deaths allegedly from torture, and the excessive use of lethal force against protesters. In fact, the NHRC in October 2020 published a list of 286 suspects of serious crimes that included law enforcement officials, military personnel, and former Maoist insurgents that police had refused to investigate.
A culture of impunity has undermined the rule of law, there is no accountability for abuses of power. Instead, they continue to climb up the bureaucratic ladder, like the promotion of a police officer alleged to be involved in the extra-judicial killing of two men in August 2018. 
Justice and relief for survivors of sexual violence during the conflict is even more difficult to come by. On the other hand, families of six young Dalit men murdered in Rukum in May 2020 —among the deadliest instances of caste-based killings in Nepal, still await justice. Those linked to the death of a 12-year-old girl forced to marry her rapist in May 2020 have yet to be held accountable.
The HRW has also called on the Deuba government to reverse appointments made to independent institutions like NHRC and the Election Commission after the Oli government pushed an ordinance amending the law in December 2020 to allow only three members of the Council to make appointments.
There are numerous other pending challenges such as the 2006 Citizenship Act, provisions in the 2015 Constitution, and a draft citizenship bill that limits women’s ability to transmit citizenship through marriage. The bill is similarly discriminatory against Nepal’s transgender people.
The HRW also opposed restrictions on the freedom of religion, rights to peaceful assembly, expression, and association of Tibetan refugees in Nepal who have fled Chinese persecution.
Says Ganguly: “Prime Minister Deuba faces many pressing problems, but he also has an opportunity to craft a positive legacy. Meanwhile, Nepal’s international development partners should press the government for measurable action on accountability if they hope to achieve change.”

Nepal must work on human rights

<figure><img width="1440" height="798" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8b09c7e80680e092e57jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photo: SAGLO SAMAJ</figcaption></figure>Why is Nepal in a state of perpetual revolution? Why do leaders who have suffered and sacrificed so much for the cause of democracy let the country and people down as soon as they come to power. Two episodes of Himalmedia’s Saglo Samaj tv magazine program talks to civil society members, legislators and journalists to come up with answers. <h2>Binda Pandey, MP</h2> Women played a significant role in and had high expectations of the People’s Movement in 1990 against gender discrimination. <img width="1440" height="798" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8b39c7e80680e092e58jpeg.jpg" alt="">The 1990 constitution said that at least 5% of women needed to be elected to the House of Representatives and the National Assembly. By the time the second election of 1997 came around, at least one female candidate from each ward was required to run for office, as a result of which 40,000 women were elected to local bodies across the country.But the leaders who promised equality did not do much once they came into power. Citizenship laws were made even more restrictive than before 1990. We went backwards.Women guerrillas took up arms in 1996 when the conflict began . The state then realised that women could fight as well. The Maoist movement armed women with weapons. Women involvement in the armed struggle and the Second People’s Movement of 2006 sent a subliminal message that if women could carry guns, they could do anything. <img width="1439" height="802" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8b69c7e80680e092e59jpeg.jpg" alt=""><h2>Chandrakishor, Journalist</h2> The Nepal Sadbhavana Party was established after the 1990 People’s movement and fought in later elections. The party’s reach was small, but it represented and kept the basic tenets of the Madhes alive when mainstream political parties had failed to fulfil Madhesi aspirations. Nepali Congress leader Mahendra Nidhi realised that the party had just been using him as  token Madhesi.   <h2>Rita Sah, Activist</h2> Under the multi-party system, it looked like the needs of the Madhesi community would be addressed, among which citizenship was most important. The access of Madhesi party women to political parties increased under the multi-party system, as leaders like Sarita Giri, Renu Yadav, and Chitralekha Yadav, stepped into politics. But despite this the issues of the Madhesi community and women, in particular, have not progressed. <img width="1440" height="794" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8b89c7e80680e092e5ajpeg.jpg" alt="">It was the Maoists who for the first time raised the issue of inclusion, and the internal colonisation of the Madhes, which inspired Madhesi people to join the armed struggle, as did the Dalits and Janajatis for self-determination and self-governance. <h2>Dambar Chemjong, Tribhuvan University</h2> The 1990 movement did not promise the Janajati people anything. But the main demand of a multi-party system under a constitutional monarchy was met. After this the indigenous people demanded that they be able to establish political parties, but the Election Commission shot that down. The interim prime minister himself, during the 1991 general election, said that Janajati is communal, not political. <img width="1440" height="782" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8bb9c7e80680e092e5bjpeg.jpg" alt="">Because Nepal had been a Hindu state for a long time, laws based on religion had infringed upon the socio-cultural, linguistic, and religious traditions of the Janajati community. But the suggestion that Nepal become secular under the 1990 Constitution was not heeded.With the Maoist armed struggle, women, Dalits, Janajatis or other minority communities felt they were finally in positions of leadership, especially women as guerrilla leaders and commanders, gave a sense of equality and social justice. It gave the impression that the Maoist revolution had brought in a new phase of Nepali society by destroying old norms and belief systems.The Maoists promised a Magarat Autonomous Region, and heads of the Tamuwan, Kirat, Tharuhat, and Newa People’s government. However, these never materialised and the issues of the Janajati people were not addressed after the conflict. This leads me to believe that they were merely used as pawns in a political game.What did the oppressed get out of the armed conflict? At first glance, it seems like they got everything they were promised. But that is not the case. For instance, the naming of the federal provinces would have been a symbolic admission and acknowledgement of the state's decades-long oppression and exploitation of indigenous peoples. But that did not happen. <h2>Kailash Rai, Researcher</h2> After the end of the autocratic rule, many citizens got the opportunity to advocate for their rights, including the Dalit, Janajati, and Madhesi communities -- especially women within the Dalit Janajati community. Despite this, there is little participation of Dalit women in education, politics, and public discourse.    <img width="640" height="352" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111152/636cd8be9c7e80680e092e5cjpeg.jpg" alt=""><h2>Ganesh Biswokarma, Activist</h2> The Dalit community participated in the People's Movement, following which fundamental rights were guaranteed to the community in the 1990 Constitution. This included making untouchability and discrimination punishable by law and introducing positive discrimination. But no law was ever made to implement these provisions. <img width="640" height="352" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd8c19c7e80680e092e5djpeg.jpg" alt="">The Dalit Liberation movement sought to end untouchability, make untouchability punishable by law, and create institutions to monitor untouchability. We also demanded that a National Dalit Commission be formed. Our demands have been met, but only as a formality. <h2>Durga Sob, Activist</h2> One of the achievements after the restoration of democracy was the freedom to speak about discrimination towards women, Dalit and Janajati communities. But there have been little to no changes in terms of education, employment, participation, ending untouchability, discrimination against women, and ending violence in the Dalit community. <img width="1061" height="594" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd8c49c7e80680e092e5ejpeg.jpg" alt="">What is ironic to me about the armed conflict is, ultimately, what did we fight for during those 10 years? What did those 17,000 people sacrifice their lives for?  Many Dalits lost their lives during the conflict. But what was the use when the people of my community still have to live as untouchables?  <h2>Pradip Pariyar, Activist</h2> After 1990, the Dalit community moved to obtain the right to enter temples, demanded political representation and quotas in education. In 1991, there was only one Dalit MP. <img width="640" height="358" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd8c79c7e80680e092e5fjpeg.jpg" alt="">This situation will persist until there is a transformation in leadership. More than 30 years later, the main players of the anti-Panchayat movement are still in leadership. If the same people remain in power for three decades, how can the country and the citizens evolve?The oppressed communities joined the armed conflict in 1996 because they had finally started to be seen and heard, and that gave them collective confidence. The Dalit, Janajati, Madhesi, and Muslim communities were led to believe that the Maoist movement would lead to them having their own state and that the conflict would bring about the end of discrimination and inequality.________________________ <h2>Collective or individual rights?</h2> <h2>Hari Sharma, Researcher</h2> I have seen momentous changes in my lifetime during the last 30 years since the First People's Movement. However, did these changes lead to genuine transformation of state structure and welfare of the people? There is cynicism and disillusionment in the public.The 1990 People’s Movement was purely for political freedom. However, the Constitution formed after the movement reflected that our national Nepali identity was diverse, and  that provided a framework for a liberal constitution. With the armed conflict of 1996-2006 we realised that the system was not able to fulfil Nepal development aspirations and that the rights that had been established after the first People’s Movement had not been translated into public policy, which led to a crisis in governance. By the time the Second People’s Movement of 2006 came around, the movement for identity had taken strong roots.The Maoists also used people’s search for identity strategically. But the biggest question that followed the Second People’s Movement and the subsequent drafting of the constitution was that of who would represent different communities--the members of their community or the mainstream political parties. At the root of the debate is whether individual or collective rights are more important.Fundamentally, the 2017 Constitution seems to prioritise group rights, like the proportional electoral system that we have adopted is conducive to collective identity. But one may not agree with or trust those who have been chosen to represent them. In that case, the beauty of democracy is that if the Constitution has not been implemented correctly, there is an institutional mechanism to rectify that.Nepal’s Constitution attempted to answer questions about problems in the representation of the Janajati community due to a lack of public policy, political accountability, and political responsibility. But instead of moving forward by defining it through public policy, we have been led to a constitutional crisis.Accountability is of the utmost importance in public policy and democracy as a whole, whether it is the accountability over the armed conflict or over daily services and facilities provided to the people. We fought so hard to have a system that holds our elected officials accountable, but that is limited to theory.Democracy has to be defended by vigilance. We might think that our work is done once we elect leaders into office, and the leaders might promise us that there is nothing more to worry about. But the universal truth is that as soon as people achieve any authority, they will become greedy and selfish in their quest for power.  <img width="1440" height="808" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd8ca9c7e80680e092e60jpeg.jpg" alt=""><img width="1440" height="803" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110111156/636cd8cc9c7e80680e092e61jpeg.jpg" alt="">We have been fighting for party politics for so many years that we cannot imagine having a non-party democracy. Our political parties have evolved into syndicates, and as such, there will be no democracy in Nepal as long as there is no democracy or accountability within political parties. The irony is that we have protected our elitist structures in the name of protecting our old traditional values, while leaders exploit the state's resources even though they have similar resources at their personal disposal. Our resources, as well as the circle of our political elite, are both very small. So it is important that we look not just at the leadership but at the socio-cultural context behind the leadership.Even today, one of our four former prime ministers is likely to be the new prime minister. We seem to be at a standstill from a sociological point view. These four former prime ministers have been in leadership for the past 30 years.Over the last 20 years, I've been looking into a certain political party closely. It has not been able to expand its base, party membership is divided into factions and sub-factions. And unless it expands its support base, a certain subsection of the party will forever have a monopoly over all its resources.Democracy without political parties is unthinkable because we and our resources are under the stranglehold of those parties and their leaders. But ultimately, the people should be able to choose their leadership since there is little possibility to form new parties through social movements. And even though the country has been through transformational democratic movements in recent history, it is doubtful if Nepali society itself has become more democratic.Individual rights, individual responsibility, collective rights and collective responsibility must be merged because a society cannot be built without individual freedom. And there cannot be an independent society without an autonomous and independent citizenry. Our responsibility does not stop on the day that we cast our ballots. On the contrary, it is our responsibility to keep the egos of our leaders in check, to hold our leaders accountable, and to strengthen our voices.Nepal is a testament to the fact that democracy is characterised by diversity. A country that has no minority, no resistance, and where a select few have a monopoly over rights and resources can never be democratic. The politics of prohibition will always hinder the politics of pluralism.Based on Episode 11 and 12 of Saglo Samaj, a tv magazine program produced by Himalmedia which is broadcast every Monday at 8:30 pm on Dish Home Channel 130.

Nepal’s cycles of revolution

After a week of violent and destructive protests, Nepal’s President Ram Chandra Poudel on Friday appointed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/justice-in-chief,804">former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> as a caretaker Prime Minister to lead an interim citizens' government.&nbsp; Poudel had been in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">closed-door discussions since Thursday</a> with youth members who spearheaded the protests, constitutional experts, the House Speaker, and the Army Chief. There was a consensus on the choice of Karki as candidate for interim prime minister, but her swearing-in was stalled due to a disagreement about Constitutional processes for her appointment.&nbsp; Youth delegates and Karki demanded that Parliament be dissolved before the appointment of the caretaker prime minister, while President Poudel had been arguing that Parliament would be automatically dissolved once the new council of ministers announced elections. Representing the GenZ movement, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/who-or-what-is-hami-nepal">Sudan Gurung</a> (pictured, below) is said to have insisted that dissolution of Parliament first was non-negotiable because he did not trust the political parties. He is said to have added that he would call his supporters out into the streets, and the President relented. The military’s warning earlier that an emergency would be declared if there was no agreement tonight clinched it.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091216098_cdd409c5824b578a04f05a43280e3f475d92bf7123d3a4565b4d720768fcc1b3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025091216098_cdd409c5824b578a04f05a43280e3f475d92bf7123d3a4565b4d720768fcc1b3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="600" loading="lazy" alt="Sudan Gurung"> <figcaption>Sudan Gurung of Hami Nepali during negotiations.</figcaption> </figure>  With this, Karki becomes Nepal’s first female prime minister, exactly a decade after she became the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/interview/a-woman-is-as-capable-sushila-karki,3375">country’s first female chief justice in 2016</a>.&nbsp; Nepalis, still shocked by the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">death and destruction of the past week</a>, heaved a sigh of relief at the announcement, which was greeted as a victory of youth power for political reform led by the GenZ movement. Its initial anti-corruption protest on 8-9 September <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">spiralled out of control into violence and arson</a> nationwide that claimed at least 51 lives. Several other candidates were floated for the caretaker prime minister’s post. Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah and former head of the electricity utility Kulman Ghising were being considered, but both declined possibly because they want to contest the next national elections. Given her experience in the judiciary and zero tolerance for corruption, Karki was the favourite of various groups within the GenZ campaign.&nbsp; The site of the negotiations moved to the official residence of the president in Shital Niwas from the Nepal Army Headquarters on Thursday. The Army had come under criticism on social media and from civil society for detaining the President and not letting him speak or be a part of the negotiation.&nbsp; This fuelled public perception that the military had a soft spot for a return of the monarchy. There were widespread rumours on Thursday that king Gyanendra, who was ousted after the abolition of the monarchy in 2008, was trying to stage a comeback by piggybacking on the agitation. Writing on X, senior journalist Kishore Nepal revealed that the Chief of Army Staff Ashokraj Sigdel had allegedly asked Poudel to step aside and pave the way for the military to negotiate, to which the President is said to have replied: “I will not resign. Kill me instead and blame it on the protesters. Then you can do whatever you like.” Live broadcast of swearing in of Sushila Karki:&nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/53go4OxuOa0?si=Zd89QGIAX8-7Bm75" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" referrerpolicy="strict-origin-when-cross-origin" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091219094_41b0f97a5925ab6969e1413636bf073ae43262893a55d9c177cb1312dea52f0d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2025091219094_41b0f97a5925ab6969e1413636bf073ae43262893a55d9c177cb1312dea52f0d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1280" height="851" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki swearing in"> <figcaption>President ram Chandra Poudel swearing in Sushila Karki as the 42nd Prime Minister of Nepal.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091303098_8f2b6f98898c4cd73c271caa51b8e29d679a7385c249380aeb96d7cc2c3f6dba.png" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2025091303098_8f2b6f98898c4cd73c271caa51b8e29d679a7385c249380aeb96d7cc2c3f6dba" data-rendition-name="original" width="1480" height="924" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki PM"> <figcaption>GenZ representatives with new Prime Minister Sushila Karki after her swearing in.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025091301098_470dbca4f4d34ca4533ce4d160045ffe8e525e98380f6f1e20eb24a6236c6029.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025091301098_470dbca4f4d34ca4533ce4d160045ffe8e525e98380f6f1e20eb24a6236c6029" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Sushila Karki PM"> <figcaption>Sushila Karki with supporters including Genz representative Sudan Gurung of Hami Nepal and Sumana Shrestha of Rastriya Swatantra Party.</figcaption> </figure>  COURAGE AND INTEGRITY Sushila Karki served as the chief justice between 11 July 2016 to 6 June 2017, and has been known for her frugal ways. She was a firebrand judge unafraid to ruffle powerful feathers, and as chief justice was behind ruling to impeach for abuse of office a powerful head of Nepal’s anti-graft body in 2016. She wrote that he had ‘<a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/the-end-of-karkistocracy,827">neither the moral character nor qualifications for the post</a>’. Even before she became Chief Justice, Karki was one of the two judges on the bench that convicted the sitting Minister for Information and Communication, Jaya Prakash Gupta, of corruption in 2012. Then in 2016, a bench including Karki ruled against granting amnesty to former Maoist lawmaker and convicted murderer Bal Krishna Dhungel. Karki was born on 7 June 1952 in Biratnagar. She completed her undergraduate studies at Mahendra Morang College in 1972 before obtaining a postgraduate degree in political science from Banaras Hindu University in India three years later. This was followed by a Bachelor's in Law in 1978 from Tribhuvan University, and she started her law career as an advocate a year later. In 1985, Karki worked as a teacher at Mahendra Multiple Campus in Dharan, and was jailed for participating in the 1990 People’s Movement to overthrow the Panchayat absolute monarchy. She became a senior Advocate at the Nepal Bar Association in 2008 and was appointed an Ad-Hoc Justice at the Supreme Court in January 2009.&nbsp; On Thursday, there were supporters for other candidates for the post sloganeering against Karki’s nomination outside the Army Headquarters. Some on social media were also skeptical of her connection to the Nepali Congress (NC) party. Growing up in Biratnagar Karki was close to the family of B P Koirala, Nepal’s first elected prime minister in 1960. Her husband Durga Subedi was part of a group of underground Congress activists who hijacked a Royal Nepal Airlines plane in 1973, flying it to India to snatch cash belonging to Nepal Rastra Bank in the cargo hold.&nbsp; The money was used for the party’s pro-democracy campaign. Karki has no love lost for the political establishment. In April 2017, the governing coalition under Maoist Prime Minister Pushpa Kamal Dahal <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/lady-justice-sushila-karki,3693">submitted an impeachment motion against her</a> after the Supreme Court overturned his decision to install a favoured police chief, violating succession based on seniority. It was a political move backed by Dahal’s coalition partner Sher Bahadur Deuba of the NC who was waiting to become prime minister for the 4th time. CHALLENGES AHEAD With Karki now in charge of the interim government, she has the daunting task of forming a council of ministers made up of amorphous and disparate groups from the GenZ, technocrats, and current politicians. Karki has said she will not prevent members of her cabinet from contesting elections, which means those with electoral aspirations like Kulman Ghising, Balen Shah and Sumana Shrestha could be asked to join. Karki has her work cut out as she has to get her team members to pull in the same direction to hold free and fair elections. She also has to make sure she has the support of the military without giving the generals too much say, while also smartly maneuvering Nepal’s precarious geopolitical ties with its giant neighbours, China and India. But most of all, the new prime minister must lay the foundations to not just physically rebuild the judiciary, executive and legislature but also ensure that elections will produce a more accountable and efficient government. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trial-by-fire">Trial By Fire</a>, Editorial

Madam Prime Minister of Nepal

Many had never heard of <a href="https://www.haminepal.org/">Hami Nepal</a>, the organisation that is part of the GenZ movement that did not just topple the government this week, but <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">pushed Nepal’s political system into new, uncharted territory</a>. It was part of an organic coming together of various youth groups fed up with Nepal’s corruption, mismanagement and lack of accountability. Hami Nepal and its GenZ comrades are now part of the negotiations with the Army to form an interim government. Hami Nepal is a non-profit dedicated to supporting communities and individuals in need, guided by its motto ‘For the People, By the People’. Its core mission is to assist individuals and communities in need, particularly during emergencies and crises, with a focus on directly connecting donors with recipients, and delivering aid efficiently and transparently. It was set up after the 2015 earthquake, but was formally registered and gained recognition in 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic. Hami Nepal is led by 36-year-old civic activist Sudan Gurung who started the organisation after he lost his own son in the 2015 earthquake.&nbsp; Leading up to the events this week, it played a central role in guiding the demonstrations, using its Instagram and Discord platforms to circulate protest information and share guidelines. Other GenZ groups used their own WhatsApp groups and other fora.&nbsp; Among the 20 or so volunteers is Ronesh Pradhan, who spoke to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">Nepali Times on 8 September </a>morning during the GenZ rally, before the violence escalated.&nbsp; “The voices of young people matter. We can’t keep being ruled by the same old men,” Pradhan said. “Our generation is the future and if there are older leaders in government, they need to be competent and accountable. We are ready to lead this country forward.” Hami Nepal’s earliest visible campaigns include donating more than 400 blankets to Bir Hospital’s Covid unit in 2022, creating a plasma and oxygen bank during the pandemic, and distributing school jackets to children in rural districts. More recently, it mounted a relief effort in response to the 2023 Jajarkot earthquake, reaching over 13,000 families with shelter, food, and medical support. The organisation was also associated with the two-month ‘Save Ghopa’ campaign, demanding effective and smooth administration of the BPKIHS (B P Koirala Institute of Health Sciences) in Dharan. The organisation was also actively engaged in providing rescue and relief during the Kagbeni and Sindhupalchok floods this year. It even sent aid to Turkey after its 2023 earthquake. After the Kavre floods last year, Hami Nepal donated solar lights. Funding for Hami Nepal comes directly from public donations, with a policy of channeling 100% of received funds for aid distribution. Volunteers self-finance administrative costs, and the group publishes detailed expenditure figures, regularly sharing updates and transparency reports through their social media and website which it launched at its Annual General Meeting in Bhaktapur last year.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250911090920_cd40c472bd7e06cc038a2d77a431cba777b6f53e4374a0216c9af2c4feb56c88.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250911090920_cd40c472bd7e06cc038a2d77a431cba777b6f53e4374a0216c9af2c4feb56c88" data-rendition-name="original" width="1080" height="719" loading="lazy" alt="Who, or what, is Hami Nepal?"> </figure>  Following the death of Nepali student Prakriti Lamsal at KIIT University in India earlier this year, Hami Nepal advocated for justice using its Instagram account, raising concern about the safety of Nepali students. Its advocacy platform started with rescue and relief, and Hami Nepal managed to develop a track record for efficient campaigns and transparency in Nepal’s humanitarian landscape. But its work pushed the group to realise that there was a deeper malaise in Nepali society. Its #youthsagainstcorruption campaign on social media platforms gained rapid momentum, and that led to the rally on 8 September. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre">Nepal’s 8 September massacre</a>, Shristi Karki The international #Nepobaby trend on TikTok propelled the rally even more, and young Nepalis used it to expose the scions of powerful politicians and politically-connected influencers who were exhibiting their flashy lifestyles on social media while citizens struggled with joblessness, corruption and poor service delivery. Public anger reached a tipping point when the UML-NC coalition led by Prime Minister K P Oli announced a sweeping ban on major social media platforms citing tax revenue, cyber security, and lack of content moderation. Netizens, civil society and media, however, saw it as the latest authoritarian attempt by the government to clamp down on free speech, increase surveillance of citizens and constrict Nepal’s open society. Susmita Khadka, 22, told us at the rally: “Politics is everywhere. Gen Z has the most platforms, and we want a revolution.” Leading up to 8 September, the GenZ movement disseminated information and reassured participants with volunteers readily available for help, medical support, and assistance. It put up a protest support helpline so that students needing assistance could get help. As the protests intensified, leaving at least 20 dead outside Parliament, and forcing Prime Minister K P Oli to resign, Hami Nepal shifted into a mediator role, engaging in talks with officials and seeking GenZ’s views on future leadership.&nbsp; Influencers like TikToker Nimesh Shrestha publicly backed the group, amplifying their voice in ongoing negotiations with the Nepal Army alongside other GenZ representatives. However, as the protests escalated on 9 September, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">resulting in massive arson and vandalism of public and private property</a>, many GenZ activists disavowed association with the attackers, saying their movement had been infiltrated. The group backtracked, with Gurung saying he was not the leader of the protests.&nbsp; Meanwhile, others accused Hami Nepal for singlehandedly speaking with the Army chief, and said that they did not represent GenZ’s collective voice. Most GenZ supporters backed <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/justice-in-chief,804">Former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> as their candidate for interim prime minister in an online group. Not everyone in the GenZ movement agrees with that choice, with support for Kathmandu Mayor Balen Shah, even though he has endorsed Karki’s appointment. Dharan Mayor Harka Sampang rushed to Kathmandu on Wednesday to push his own candidacy. Hami Nepal has supported Balen Shah to lead the country for the next five years, not just during the interim period, and have called on the public to share their posts supporting Shah to amplify the message. With the old guard gone, there is a power vacuum with multiple actors with competing interests to fill it. GenZ’s youth-led activism has brought new energy for political reform, but its real test begins now — whether it can unite Hami Nepal and other sections to negotiate with the Nepal Army.&nbsp;

Who, or what, is Hami Nepal?

One Friday night last month, we were swapping stories about Vipassana, a rigorous <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/comment/practicing-mindfulness-in-schools?fbclid=IwAR2X1T9SNG1tWe61UPqMUgHjOWNZ4U1foJyURLJMrjYAsUdr4u_mz1rmC1U">meditation</a> technique of silent observation, over dinner. We spoke of its ten days of noble silence, of respiration, observation, and sensation.&nbsp; I told them about my first retreat in Lumbini last year when my mind kept getting distracted: ‘What is happening in the outside world? Is <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/those-were-the-days-knea0341">K P Oli still prime minister</a>? When I emerged ten days later, he was still PM. During my second Vipassana in February this year, I reassured my mind that nothing dramatic could unfold in ten days. Still, my gut knew this country was always one headline away from <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/trial-by-fire">revolution</a>. By my third retreat, I was confident, even cocky.&nbsp; At that dinner, I joked: “What could possibly change? If Oli survived my first two meditation retreats, the world can hold steady for a third.” I should’ve known better. On 1 September, I was back at Shivapuri for the second time, my third retreat, with no expectations — only hope that ten days of noble silence would peel yet another layer from my mind.&nbsp; Vipassana is a paradox: brutally difficult, yet infinitely generous. It is the tool needed to tame and know your unconscious mind, and to know yourself even a little through it is a profound achievement. My room at Z House had the best view of the Kathmandu Valley. I developed a ritual: press my hands against my cheeks and stare down at the city. The city below looks chaotic, but somehow beautiful in its stubbornness, where pollution and pride coexist. From up there, it looked like no one was free, trapped in their egos, pettiness and misery.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250913090920_9e77930ed911289c05a731605157f402c06249347e33964dc59c58d32dc2a6d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1300" loading="lazy" alt="Vipassana during Nepal revolution"> <figcaption>Those undergoing Vipassana in Sundarijal had no idea of the chaos and mayhem the country was undergoing. Photos: AARSALA ADHIKARI(Photo: Sonia Awale)</figcaption> </figure>  Then, softer thoughts of Metta and compassion would emerge. If only every single person could sit in silence and know their breath, just once. Blessed with ten days of Dhamma teachings on universal law, I imagined our 334 patriarchal parliamentarians and the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/house-of-cards?%2F">Oli, Deuba, Prachanda trinity</a>. UNSEEN CHAOS On the seventh and the eighth days of Vipassana (8–9 September) there was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">black smoke rising from the Valley </a>below. Why were people burning all that garbage? There was no traffic on the straight road down from Budanilkantha. There were gunshots, and I assumed locals were shooting at marauding monkeys. I mistook the sound of helicopters at night for flights circling after takeoff.&nbsp; On the ninth day and in the morning of the tenth, it rained heavily. I tried to spot Dharara like I did every day, but the city was shrouded in a blanket of thick black smog. Even after two days of heavy rain, the smoke had not been washed down. This did not make sense, but my mind had returned to the safe harbour of my meditation. Nothing to see here. On the morning of 9/11, the tenth day, as we emerged from silence, the hall outside filled with chatter. Many people left, weeping, overwhelmed by the experience of the past ten days. We joked about our hardships and dreamt of delicious food, feeling a wave of accomplishment after a documentary about how Vipassana had transformed Tihar Jail in New Delhi.&nbsp; The hall radiated with inspiration and hope. Then, as the film ended an assistant teacher made an announcement: “There are serious protests going on in the Valley. K P Oli has resigned as prime minister. There are no cabinet ministers. The military has taken over, and a curfew has been imposed.”&nbsp; The news hit like a lightning bolt. Mental tranquility gave way to gasps of “What the f**k?” In the main Dhamma Hall, some women erupted in applause. We had spent ten days cultivating Metta, only to step out and realise the world had erupted into chaos. We huddled, trying to piece together fragments of what was happening. The Valley was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepal-turmoil-will-hit-tourism">still covered in black smoke</a>, the main road was still quiet. A neighbour turned up the radio, reporting deaths, destruction and curfew.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20250913050944_ce09e04207ef5eb72ea55800b76df0c16a9d46a3eea957a4ecb0d67e978c2595" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1200" loading="lazy" alt="Meme doing the rounds on social media"> <figcaption>Meme doing the rounds on social media. </figcaption> </figure>  A first-time meditator, Shivani Karn, overheard a neighbour from wall cross telling his son that people had been shot and that he should not go to school any more. She had wanted to flee the Centre, but stayed on. Stranded foreigners from Argentina to China were bewildered and terrified. Volunteers debriefed us, recounting the shocking details: buildings burning, ministers’ houses ransacked, Oli fleeing, Deuba and his wife beaten up. The leaders were all in the Shivapuri barracks up the mountain. Over 15,000 inmates had broken out of prison. It was a catastrophe unfolding in real time. The city felt ripped out from a nightmare. In the common space, people complained about <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">corruption and the ban on social media</a>. But an understanding emerged: both those in power and those who grant it are bound by the law of cause and effect. Driving down from Shivapuri on the morning of 12 September, my heart sank. The smog I had seen was smoke from still smouldering buildings. It was not garbage burning, but the rage of the people. Those were not people scaring away monkeys, but guns that killed innocent lives. The sound of aircraft were actually helicopters rescuing politicians.&nbsp; We drove past Singha Darbar, a charred ruin. Another Vipassana meditator, Anjali Baidya, shared a chilling memory. She recalled being 12 years old in 1973, watching from her home in Makhan Tole as Singha Durbar first caught fire. History had repeated itself 52 years later.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250910140912_e6bf05bfe95f519e05ab8d9016587211b241340fd23a0f9ae728e74747fc5f29" data-rendition-name="original" width="8064" height="6048" loading="lazy" alt="Nepal in ashes"> <figcaption>Singha Darba, the seat of the government, set ablaze on 9th September. Photo: KAMAL PRASAI</figcaption> </figure>  One Bhatbhateni supermarket after another were scorched, police stations, government offices, once symbols of everyday life. There were soldiers everywhere, not police. &nbsp;Amidst the devastation, a deeper truth settled in. This, too, was Anicca — impermanence. Anicca teaches us that all things are constantly changing, including our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations. Political systems, power structures, national crises are all transitory. This understanding is crucial for healing. When we cling to the idea that a leader, political system or ourselves are permanent, we set ourselves up for disappointment and anger when it inevitably changes. The Dhamma teaches that responsibility is shared. The anger and fear on the streets are similar to feelings many carry inside. We Nepalis have intergenerational trauma. What I saw was not an abstraction: the gunshots and chaos echoed the terrifying nights of 1 February 2005 in Panauti, a grim replay of the fear I knew as a child at Malpi school, huddling with friends for safety.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">What next, Nepal?</a>, Shristi Karki Our national history is a series of ruptures that become personal landmarks. I was nine years old at my aunt’s birthday party on 1 June 2001, when the celebration was abruptly called off and we were sent home into the silent shock of a royal massacre.&nbsp; This pattern must be broken, and it starts now. The path to national healing must begin with individual healing. We can learn from the story of Angulimala, a violent figure who was transformed by the Buddha’s compassion. The Buddha walked steadily toward him and said, “I have stopped, Angulimala. You must stop too.” Angulimala realised the truth, renounced violence, and was enlightened. Cycles of anger and conflict can be softened and transformed. Nepal’s long-term well-being depends on our ability to approach the Dhamma as a pragmatic tool. Inner calm can help us process collective trauma. By cultivating forgiveness and compassion, we can create a stability that begins within. True healing begins when we stop externalising our pain or intellectualising our emotions, and start nurturing our own inner peace. As the dust settles, the true noise begins: the roar within. We are left with a stark choice: remain trapped in this endless loop of rage, or we can deliberately choose to stop. The Dhamma is not some philosophy for a meditation centre; it is the raw truth of our applied wisdom. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/madam-prime-minister-of-nepal">Sushila Karki, Nepal’s first female prime minister</a>, may have emerged as a new ‘messiah’ but we must begin to take responsibility and accountability. Change cannot come from chaos, it is a conscious effort we must make precisely when it feels most impossible.&nbsp; The path forward is not through the streets, but inward — into the ruins of our own self-righteousness. The disparity and deep-seated grudges are the quiet kindling that have brought this new revolution. The rage on the streets is about suppressed dignity, and a burning hunger for justice.&nbsp; It is time to check the recesses of our minds and hearts, sit down, breathe, and to ask: “When do we stop running, and when do we start healing?”&nbsp; Alisha Sijapati is a writer specialising in cultural heritage, and a former Nepali Times correspondent.

Vipassana during a revolution

Many young Nepalis at the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-gen-z-protest-turns-deadly">GenZ rally on 8 September</a> carried banners that read: ‘Enough Is Enough’. But by the end of the day and into 9 September, the arson and mayhem had gone out of control of the idealistic young activists. As Parliament, Singha Darbar, the Supreme Court, public and private property were <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/kathmandu-burns-despite-pm-resignation">torched and looted</a>, ‘Enough Is Enough’ took on a new meaning. What started out as a hashtag-led campaign exposing the luxurious lifestyle and extravagance of the scions of powerful political figures soon snowballed into a larger movement against corruption and impunity. #Nepokids in Nepal metamorphosed into a political reform campaign, which again transmuted on Tuesday into class rage. The Oli-led coalition government’s ban on social media last week forced what was essentially an online movement into the streets. <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">Hami Nepal </a>and the GenZ platform organised the rally at Mandala on Monday despite information that controversial political forces and other elements planned to infiltrate it. Which they did. By Tuesday afternoon, Kathmandu was being firebombed. The three pillars of state: the legislative, executive, and judiciary were reduced to ashes. Even the fourth estate was not spared, and became the target of unnamed arsonists.&nbsp; The damage was not just to physical buildings, but<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/nepal-s-8-september-massacre"> to the national psyche</a>. But just like Hami Nepal emerged from the rubble of the 2015 earthquake, the GenZ movement now has to take the lead in rebuilding from the cinders of 2025. Nepal needs to rise from the ashes, and be reconstructed from the ground up by a new generation with accountable government, equitable and inclusive growth, and an open society. &nbsp; What this week’s upheaval showed, aside from the tragedy of the lives lost and physical destruction, is that Nepalis value freedom of expression and can use it to stand against injustice and keep fighting for reform and progress. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/what-next-nepal">What next, Nepal?</a>, Shristi Karki  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250911120928_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20250911120928_e9cf9abfa8e35f3c074506dfdf94a262b5b311da6863cc2ec7bc3458a983df71" data-rendition-name="original" width="6566" height="4377" loading="lazy" alt="Trial by fire"> <figcaption>Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI</figcaption> </figure>  But there are pitfalls ahead. Some of the same forces that piggybacked on the GenZ rally are now outside the gates of Army Headquarters opposing the consensus candidate for interim prime minister. There are scores of imitation GenZs across the internet with familiar cast of characters from the past. The Army must have learnt from the 1 February 2005 experience that it should remain as a non-political institution of last resort — there cannot be wannabe prime ministers applying loudly for the job at the gates of its headquarters in Tundikhel. The Army was needed on the streets on Tuesday night, when the situation spiralled out of control. But it should now be President Ram Chandra Poudel who must take a more proactive role than he has so far in reestablishing stability. He cannot waste time in appointing an interim government led by a caretaker prime minister of unquestioned integrity to oversee elections. This is also the demand of GenZ activists, who want Parliament dissolved and changes in the Constitution to allow wide-ranging reforms. Changing the Constitution now will mean another shaky rigmarole like the 2008-2015 period. The amendments can be made after new elections. Our Common Ground A transformative transition like this also means a lot of uncertainty with competing interest groups trying to take advantage of the fluid situation. Nepal has gone through these upheavals before (although not on the scale we saw this week) with the 1990 People’s Movement or the 2006 Peace and Democracy Movement. Each time, there was hope that finally elected leaders who fought and suffered for liberation and freedom would deliver.&nbsp; Alas, the Nepali people have been let down every time. It has to be different this time. And who better to lead it than a new generation with hopes, aspirations, energy and resolve to build Nepal anew, led by a caretaker prime minister known for her independence, courage and honesty. In this edition, we carry two op-eds by Sri Lankan and Bangladeshi writers about similar youth-led movements that toppled governments in their countries in 2022 and 2024. Both have important lessons for Nepal’s GenZ. If<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/search?q=justice+in+chief"> former Chief Justice Sushila Karki</a> is appointed to head the interim government, she will be our Mohamad Yunus. But as we saw in Bangladesh, it did not go as smoothly as everyone had hoped. Similar story in the aftermath of Sri Lanka’s Aragalaya movement.&nbsp; There were different triggers in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Nepal, but one common strand was a neglected and disempowered citizenry which could not take it anymore. They organised organically through social media to push for change. The wildcard in all three countries is geopolitics, and the competing strategic interests of the India, China, United States triangle — especially with the Trump-Modi tiff. Time is now of the essence. The longer this drags on, the more difficult it will be to find common ground and start rebuilding. Ending the violence does not mean keeping things in a political vacuum.