<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222039c7e80680e0c02e6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>All photos: SANTOSH DAHIT/HIMALKHABAR</figcaption></figure>At the peak of the Maoist conflict in 2002, Prem Kumari Pun fled her village in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mountains of Rolpa</a> for the relative safety of the plains. It was getting difficult to withstand frequent harassment and threats by the army and Maoist guerrillas.She quit her teaching job at a local school, and moved down to Ghorahi. This meant she had to start from square one.“We were in the war zone, and there would be battles in the surrounding mountains, bombs and bullets everywhere. We teachers would be treated with suspicion by both sides,” Pun recalls. “I loved to teach, and I worked very hard at my job. But saving my family was more important.”In Ghorahi, it was difficult for Prem Kumari to support herself and children without a job. She took up tailoring classes and was a determined student. She won the Best Trainee award in her class, and was contemplating starting her own tailoring shop.What helped was that as a girl in Rolpa, Prem Kumari had learnt to weave hemp from the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-grass-is-greener-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">cannabis plant that grows wild in the mountains of Nepal</a>. She incorporated this skill into her sewing.She registered her business and started collecting hemp fibre in earnest. To keep up with demand, she ordered more of the material from Rukum, Doti and Accham districts to turn into hemp waistcoats, hats, caps, bags and shoes.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222099c7e80680e0c02e7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1560" height="1107"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><figcaption></figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111412118/637222289c7e80680e0c02e8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1920" height="1072"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The material was new, and most customers in her shop were initially reluctant to try it. Many said it was too rough to be used for clothing.“I remember gifting a waistcoat and hat made from hemp to an official at the district Home and Small Industries Office who was reluctant to wear it,” says Pun. But a few days later, the man was at the shop to buy another pair.The market for Prem Kumari’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/clothed-in-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">hemp products</a> gradually grew, and customers were attracted to the uniqueness of the material which had a cooling effect in the summer and was warm in the winter.Soon, she even had customers in Japan, UK and USA, where the environmental and fair trade movements had spread awareness in the public about fibres like hemp.But then the Covid-19 pandemic hit, Prem Kumari was forced to cut down staff of 250 to 12. With no international or domestic tourists for most of the past two years, she has been hard-pressed to find customers.But there is optimism in the air again as business picks up. Prem Kumari’s Rs7 million hemp clothing business is once more seeing up to Rs20,000 worth of sales a day.Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/why-nepal-must-legalise-cannabis/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Why Nepal must legalise cannabis</a><figure><figcaption></figcaption></figure>Four years ago, Prem Kumari Pun was the recipient of the Best Entrepreneur Award at the National Industrial Goods and Technology Exhibition organised by the Home and Small Industries Development Committee in Kathmandu.Now, Prem Kumari wants to help more entrepreneurs start their businesses but says the state needs to promote local initiatives. Spreading the success would allow Nepalis to finally reap a real ‘peace dividend’ 17 years after the conflict ended.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/money-grows-on-trees-here/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Money grows on trees here</a>, Sahina Shrestha“We were internal conflict refugees, and had to start from scratch in a new place. But our success has shown that it is possible with determination and diligence,” says Prem Kumari, adding, “but a little bit of help from the government like low-interest loans without collateral, especially for women could help.”Adapted by Aria Parasai from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/130573" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nepali original</a> at <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/">himalkhabar.com</a>

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Nepali reaps peace dividend 17 years after war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208639c7e80680e0b54e3jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1189"/><figcaption>Ila Sharma and Hishila Yami in conversation at Indian Embassy, January 2022. Photos: PRATIBHA TULADHAR</figcaption></figure>Last month, a small group of people sat in a hall at the Indian Embassy, listening to two women in conversation around <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/nepals-maoist-revolution-from-the-inside/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a book by former minister Hisila Yami</a>. What was interesting about this conversation was that it was happening between two women who had  been on opposite sides during Nepal’s Maoist conflict. Hisila Yami, was a former Maoist leader and Ila Sharma, a former election commissioner whose husband was killed by the Maoists.…When snail-mails arrived at my hostel in a hill-town in India in 1996, a friend wrote saying a <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/revisiting-maoist-demands,2860" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist insurgency</a> had begun in Nepal. Then, while watching the news in the hall one evening, Ms Chakraborty said: You have a Naxalite movement in Nepal, it seems. I looked at her and then at the tv. Naxalite movement? My teenage mind had a difficult time stringing terms 'insurgency' and 'Naxalite'.I had little knowledge of what was going on in Nepal. But every time I came home on vacation, meal time conversations spilled with news about the Maoists. My mornings at home began with parents focusing on the Kantipur daily spread before them, reading bits of news aloud -- much of it about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-unpunished-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">people being killed across Nepal</a>.…Soon after I returned to Kathmandu for good, I received an offer to work at the Indian Embassy’s Press and Information and Culture section. As someone who had just returned with an inflated ego pumped in by convent education, I thought I could take the world by storm. And so, I worked at the embassy as a translator, carefully transcribing news, a lot of which was on <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/hospital-destroyed-in-conflict-and-earthquake,2971" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Army-Maoist clashes</a>. The work took a toll on me and I quit to go back to studies -- I had become tired of recording death, not knowing then that there was going to be more.…As a broadcaster, I spent endless hours writing and reading news about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-scars-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">bombings and ambushes</a>. For a sheltered urbanite, who at that time was doing armchair journalism, the Maoists appeared to be at a great distance.I would only meet Maoist cadres much later at the Gokarna Resort, when covering the Government-Maoist peace talks. (Future rounds would happen in Baluwatar, and reporters would all wait through chilly nights, shivering.) When sharing common space, the mystery and romanticism the 'insurgents' had become shrouded in, based on third-hand information, gradually faded away.…A conversation to mark Women’s Day: on the dias at Nepal Tourism Board are Shahana Pradan, Kalpana Dhamala and other women leaders. I am an trainee reporter, who ends up filing about how women representing different sides of politics were able to share a platform that day. I fiercely disagree with violence, but I still thought the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12936#.Yf388i2B2b8" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">insurgency had given something to some Nepali women</a> -- a voice.…<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101120/637208669c7e80680e0b54e4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>On a foggy December morning, I sat at the Shaktikhor Camp talking to Maoist deputy commander Uday Bahadur Chalaune. I wrote about how <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/from-the-nepali-press/ex-guerrillas-regret-the-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist rebels</a> were languishing in the camps, while their leaders who had shed so much blood on their way to power, reigned in newfound glory. During our conversation, Chalaune and the others reiterated their party stand, at times nodding their heads in that familiar way.Eventually, Chalaune and his relatives would choose the golden handshake instead of integration. Was he disillusioned with the long wait? I have often wanted to meet him again and ask him.…In her one-roomed home in Bhaktapur, Sunita Regmi 'Yojana', a former Maoist warrior, offers me tea. She wears a prosthetic after losing a leg during an attack of an army barrack. During our conversation, she tells me she wants their daughter to grow up to have nothing to do with politics. It makes a good quote to end my story with. I have never met the family again, but have hoped that they have been able to educate the child as Yojana had hoped to.…Jelbang is sunny but cold. Everywhere you turn, you meet someone who lost a loved one to the war. In Thabang, a strange coldness seems to have settled over conversations with outsiders. Who do you trust? Something about the neatness of the place makes me want to stay longer, but it also feels too far away from home. Sadness looms in the air, and I think I probably made it up in my head.…Over the years, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/">Kiran Chaudhary</a> has become the closest subject to my heart. She awaits justice, years since her <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/wartime-rape-victims-of-Kanchanpur-speak-out-wait-for-justice,4222" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rape</a>-in-custody by the APF during the war. She comes to Kathmandu once a year to see doctors who are still treating her violated body. Her time in Kathmandu is spent shuttling between hospital and the National Human Rights Commission.…Years on, I have never been able to come to terms with the violence that unfolded during the war. Attending the conversation at the Indian Embassy between women who are a privileged minority -- women like me, who went to schools in India and can read and write English text -- made me wonder what Nepal’s endless political wrangling has really done to propel <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/women-leaders-seen-but-not-heard/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">women into politics</a>.Sharma, the father of whose children was among the first casualties of the war, said during the conversation that the way forward to a peaceful politics is to make use of the right to vote. In Nepal, a generation of us grew up without an election for the longest time, and I still don’t vote because I have come to believe that an annulled vote is also a vote.During the conversation, Sharma asked Yami how she now feels about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/from-the-frontlines-of-nepals-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> to which so many people on both sides were lost. Yami paused, sighed, expressed regret and then said history is evidence that revolution always demands sacrifices.I have become stuck in her pause. Watching Ila Sharma and Hisila Yami was to watch a repeat of the reconciliation process. But it made me wonder: is reconciliation even a thing after what has passed?Suburban Tales is a monthly column in Nepali Times based on real people (with some names changed) in Pratibha’s life.

Pratibha Tuladhar

Vignettes from war

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101116/637208209c7e80680e0b54cejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1119"/><figcaption>Takam village (above) in Dhaulagiri Municipality is a model for how federalism should function. Photos: JOY STEPHENS</figcaption></figure>Bal Bir Biswakarma from the village of Lulang at the lap of Mt Dhaulagiri in Central Nepal is a 68-year-old subsistence farmer, descendants of metal smiths who settled here centuries ago to smelt copper ore.When the copper ran out, he became a high altitude porter, summiting Mt Lhotse and even rock climbing in Wyoming in the United States. But, as Joy Stephens <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/the-clouds-are-lifting-below-dhaulagiri/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">writes in her travelogue</a> most of his life Bal Bir Biswakarma has been living hand-to-mouth in this Dalit village high up in the mountains.Since 2017, Lulang is a part of Dhaulagiri Municipality and elected Thamsara Pun as mayor who took the revolutionary step of moving the headquarter from the traditional power centre of Takam to Muna village to make it better accessible to the region’s indigenous and Dalit populations.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221114101116/637208239c7e80680e0b54cfjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="792"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In the past five years, villagers have begun to see improvements in healthcare, education and jobs, thanks to political devolution gained through Nepal’s new federal structure. Pun is <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-politics-is-local/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">looking forward to fast-tracked local elections</a> on 18 May, and the chance to serve five more years.This is what federalism means in practice: giving voice to the voiceless, letting under-served communities take charge so they can better take care of themselves. Dhaulagiri Municipality is also a reminder to the squabbling political class in faraway Kathmandu, some of whom have prematurely declared federalism dead without even letting it prove its worth.Excitement about <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/think-nationally-vote-locally/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local elections</a> is already palpable across rural Nepal, but a cynical and pessimistic political class in the national capital does not want to let go of power and resources. In fact, despite a federal Constitution, political decision-making is more centralised than ever before.While the rights of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/polls-in-the-time-of-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">local governments</a> are enshrined in the Constitution, it is not followed in the spirit with access to resources for them to actually perform.“Federalism is the sum total of everything we Nepalis have gone through, from various governing structures to the Maoist conflict, the Madhes Movement and everything in between,” explains Khimlal Devkota, recently elected to the National Assembly.“Federalism stands for stability, development and devolution and we had high expectations, expecting quick results,” he adds. “In some ways we have succeeded, people don’t have to rely on Kathmandu for everything. But the centre is still involved in everything from hydropower plants to erecting view towers.”The 2015 Constitution <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/trial-error-democracy,3713" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">devolved rights to local and sub-national governments</a>, but the necessary laws were not in place until after elections. This meant a confusing transition regarding jurisdiction which threatened to undermine past gains in areas like community forestry, public health and education.“Coordination between the governments, vertical and horizontal, is a pillar of federalism and so is functional demarcation,” says Balananda Paudel who headed the Local Bodies Restructuring Commission. “Our laws are riddled with lack of clarity in some places and elsewhere there is a problem of overlapping functions for different levels of government.”This results in a perpetual blame-game between different levels of government, and a lack of accountability. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/the-f-word/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Federalism</a>, therefore, is still work in progress and this year’s series of elections will hopefully result in greater devolution.One of the reasons federalism got a bad name is that in the past years, it also decentralised corruption. Of the 753 local governments, one-third have elected chairs and mayors who are contractors and have awarded themselves <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/hiding-their-head-in-the-sand/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sand-mining</a>, road-building and quarrying  contracts.Which is why upcoming local elections are even more important -- to reward elected municipal governments who have worked for the people with another five-year term and reject those who did not.This might also be a time to question the purpose of retaining a parallel power structure composed of the District Administrations and the Chief District Officers. Its job of issuing citizenship papers and passports allows this unelected office of centralised bureaucrats to wield extraordinary power over ordinary people.Federalism has also multiplied central-level politics by seven. Bagmati Province recently set a new record with 70 mini-ministries in Hetauda to allow the coalition to keep power. Much of the last five years were wasted in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/The-f-word-again,1426" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">endless debates about demarcation</a> of provincial boundaries and designating capitals. It took four years for Madhes Province to get its name, and Province 1 is still just a number.“We have made some headway in formulating laws and regulations, now we must bring it into practice, improving staffing for service delivery at local levels and promoting better coordination between and within levels by activating intergovernmental relations,” says Balananda Paudel.Just as democracy is only as effective as politicians, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/federalism-rule-of-law-and-the-judiciary/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">federalism</a> too will only function if it follows the true spirit of devolution of power and resources to the periphery. It needs political will at the centre to provide technical and financial support – something we have not seen in the last five years.Says Khimlal Devkota: “Citizens should be placed at the centre of all decision making. This can be done only by nurturing and strengthening federal practice.”

Sonia Awale

Power to the periphery

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

Ground reality of landlessness in Nepal

<figure><img width="1000" height="716" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/6372049d9c7e80680e0b286fjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Image from a series by Chinese photographer Guligo Jia’s exhibition of ‘reunions’ of people with family members they lost in the war projected in the wall behind them. Here, Suman Adhikari is photographed with an old photograph of his father Muktinath Adhikari, himself and his brother. Photo: GULIGO JIA </figcaption></figure>My father Muktinath Adhikari was a science and math teacher at the Panini Sanskrit Secondary School in Duradanda in Lamjung district. I had just got into Grade 8 when my mother became ill.We had to take her to hospital in Kathmandu, carrying her in a doko. My father was so dedicated to his school that he did not come with us. It was not because he did not love her.<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12522#.YeVp1S8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D12522%23.YeVp1S8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0lOkM1Nl9In27odcK2tW9V">Both my brothers</a> were studying with me in Kathmandu at the time. One was in college and the other was preparing for his SLC exam. I had gone home to Lamjung for winter holidays with one of them.  <figure><img width="200" height="207" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/6372049f9c7e80680e0b2870jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>My mother had to go through two operations, and I pushed back my return to Kathmandu till 18 January 2002. My sister had also come home for the Maghe Sankranti festival. We were all home on 17 January when my grandfather and his brother came hurriedly to tell us that our father had been taken away by the Maoists.They said he was being taken for “interrogation”.He had been teaching his Grade 10 science class when a gun-wielding militia entered the room, tied a rope around his leg and led him off.We did not know what to do. On the one hand, we reasoned, our father had not done anything wrong, had not harmed anyone, so they would let him go. But we had also heard about Maoist executions and feared the worst.He had told his colleagues as was led away: “You see the situation. Whatever happens to me, manage the school well, do not damage the future of the students.” <figure><img width="1400" height="701" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a19c7e80680e0b2871jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img width="2070" height="1576" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a49c7e80680e0b2872jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>We had no news till evening. I followed my brother to look for our Dad. When we reached near the school, someone told us the news was not good, and there was no point looking for him. I had an inkling that something terrible had happened and that no one was telling us, and I returned home. My brother came back at 7PM, and told us that <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=17894#.YeVpZS8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D17894%23.YeVpZS8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2N-_RLEZnLbI0cI4QoiUS2">our father had been killed</a>. They had taken him from the school, past our house, tied his neck to a tree with his muffler, and killed him. My family tried to shield my other brother from the news because he was preparing for his school exam. They did not allow him to even listen to the radio, but he found out anyway from my uncle who had gone to Kathmandu to fetch him. When he got home, the whole family went to the site of the crime. My mother, sister and I could not bear to look. I tried to force myself to at least catch a glimpse, but I could not. The photograph of my father’s <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16781#.YeVpYi8RqLc" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id%3D16781%23.YeVpYi8RqLc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0aH2JvgxXsXBuNl3GQVhXh">lifeless body still tied to a tree</a> was on the cover of Himal magazine (pictured right) that week. The editor took a big risk by printing that photograph in the midst of war. Later, the picture was picked up by many other newspapers and spread through social media.Even after 20 years, I get the chills if I see that cover photograph. I cannot describe what my family went through. Our father was the sole source of support for the family. Despite his meagre earnings as a school teacher, he used to help others in the village who were in need. But when it was his family that needed support, no one stepped forward to help.In fact, they tormented us by their silence. No one spoke out. They were too afraid that they would also be killed by the Maoists. Before the murder, my aunt had told my father that many other teachers had fled the village because of threats from the Maoists and he should not put himself in danger. My father had replied: “I have never stolen one paisa from anyone, I have never wished anyone any harm, if I leave the school what will become of the future of my students?” <figure><img width="640" height="867" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410114/637204a79c7e80680e0b2873jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>It later emerged that the Maoists had asked all teachers to donate 25% of their salary to the revolution. My father stood by his principle that donations should be voluntary, and besides he had to also take care of his family with his salary. He had told the Maoists he would consult the others and give his response, but they did not wait for his answer.We could not even remove the body, or observe funeral rites because of the fear of Maoists. My brothers conducted some rituals at home and returned to Kathmandu.I could not leave my mother alone during such a tragic period, and besides she was not well. I had to discontinue my education, but that was nothing compared to the trauma our family had to go through. We mustered the courage to lodge an FIR at the Lamjung District Police Office. <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Commissions-of-convenience,1530" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Commissions-of-convenience,1530&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806496000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2a5uINM9W70AtKb3zZ1Rk0">There are two Commissions</a> to provide justice to the families of the victims of conflict like us, we even went to the National Human Rights Commission.But even after two decades, there has been no justice. The perpetrators were never caught. If this is the condition of such a high profile war crime, imagine what it is like for others who are not as well known. How will the conflict victims in remote parts of the country ever hope for truth and justice?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPK1y8MSMHc&amp;feature=emb_logoThe Commission on Enforced Disappearances and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission are more interested in letting war criminals off the hook than in providing justice. The commissioners are selected on the basis of party wheeling-dealing, and it looks like their sole intention is to protect the perpetrators. And we hear that they want a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-runs-out-of-excuses-to-address-war-crimes/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw12XhhNJcMJn9L4BGusBJzm">blanket amnesty for all war crimes</a> by both sides in the conflict. International norms say that whether a perpetrator of a crime is to be pardoned or not is solely at the discretion of the victim. Still, they address political rallies and blatantly boast that they killed 5,000 people and those who were responsible for conflict-era crimes are walking openly in broad daylight. My father, who had no connection at all to the Maoist insurgency, was killed by them. We lost our father. Nothing will bring him back. If his murderers are not caught there is a danger <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/history-on-replay/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/history-on-replay/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1SnZqMPw1s7CMEwi7T7g2L">there will be another conflict</a> like this, and there will be other orphans like us. That is why we are still fighting for justice. I just hope no one in Nepal in future has to bear the kind of physical and mental torture that we did as a family. Twenty years later, my father appears to me in my dreams sometimes. I am so happy to see him alive. But then I wake up, and weep. I wish my dream would never end. Translated from the <a href="https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/127861?fbclid=IwAR32w5E-Totbc63ZAnwgR13Lre3VnPxI8_Vt-uf4e8RFqC6ZncnVTwb6KXQ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.himalkhabar.com/news/127861?fbclid%3DIwAR32w5E-Totbc63ZAnwgR13Lre3VnPxI8_Vt-uf4e8RFqC6ZncnVTwb6KXQ&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw2e4nzefESDuc7Xr6JVIQUS">Nepali original</a> in <a href="http://himalkhabar.com/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://himalkhabar.com/&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1642512806497000&amp;usg=AOvVaw0eWk9SdO610RJSKCHi_R-5">himalkhabar.com</a>

Nepal’s unpunished war crimes

<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

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111016118/636d141e9c7e80680e0a9960jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="700" height="490"/><figcaption>The then Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala and rebel leader 'Prachanda' Pushpa Kamal Dahal signing the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in Kathmandu on 21 November 2006. Photo: SAGAR SHRESTHA</figcaption></figure>The headlines for the past month have all been about the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-is-happening-to-nepals-supreme-court/">Supreme Court</a>, and whether or not Chief Justice Cholendra SJB Rana should be <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-lawyers-on-warpath-against-chief-justice/">impeached, or resign</a>, over past naughtiness.The controversy goes to the heart of Nepal’s governance failure and the erosion of the rule of law. Politicians have tampered with the doctrine of the separation of powers, and politically appointed justices have returned the favour.But there was a larger lapse of justice that went virtually unnoticed this week. It has been exactly 15 years after the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/justice-delayed-justice-denied-transitional-justice,3556">Comprehensive Peace Accord (CPA)</a> was signed on 21 November 2006 between the Maoist commander Prachanda and Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala of the Nepali Congress (NC).As per the provisions of the CPA, two commissions to investigate the disappeared and for truth and reconciliation were to be set up and given two years to do their job. This being Nepal, it took a full ten years for the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/truth-about-truth-commission,3565">Truth and Reconciliation Commission</a> (TRC) and the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Who-doesn-want-a-TRC,2042">Commission on the Investigation of Enforced Disappearances (CIED)</a> to start their work.The United Nations, Nepal’s Western partners and international human rights watchdog groups were the driving force behind the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2014/08/18/justice-under-threat/">transitional justice process</a>, and if it was not for them it would have been unlikely that the country’s 14 prime ministers since 2006 would have made any moves to rake up wartime excesses.The rationale behind <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/truth-and-justice-for-relatives-of-murdered-and-disappeared,2122">transitional justice</a> is that until survivors and families of victims find truth and justice, there will be no closure, residual revenge will poison societal relations, and there will be a danger of the country slipping back into violent conflict.Justice denied also <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/Legalese/Justice-in-transition,458">promotes impunity</a> in other arenas of national politics, as we see today. It is also important to keep the memory of the conflict years alive, and document the untold death and suffering it caused. Nepalis have to be reminded not to forget.Yet, memories fade, time moves on, people drift into everyday routines and try to get on with their lives. Transitional justice would have at least helped heal the loss for families of the victims, provided society with closure, and perpetrators of war crimes a chance for atonement.But, as with all other spheres of national life, the transitional justice mechanisms have been politcised from the word go. The leadership of the Maoist, NC and to a lesser degree the UML, all colluded to appoint yes men to the TRC and the CIED, extending their mandates over and over again with no hearings, trials or verdicts against those involved in heinous crimes.The toothless commissions collected tens of thousands of testimonies from families of victims and survivors, but the files are all mothballed in steel cabinets in their offices. Meanwhile, in the past 15 years, there has been plenty of lip service, blame game, scapegoating and tokenism. The two commissions have actually been used by politicians to prevent cases from moving through the regular courts.In fact, on the 15th anniversary of the CPA, Prachanda who has gone back to his peacetime name of Pushpa Kamal Dahal, vowed to complete the transitional justice process. In a <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/justice-delayed-justice-denied/">statement</a> on 21 November and an English <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/columns/2021/11/20/the-nepali-peace-process-as-a-global-model">op-ed in The Kathmandu Post</a>, he termed Nepal’s peace process a ‘successful homegrown model’ for other post-conflict countries.‘Although the conflict was brought to an end, the task of investigating events that occurred during the war and to provide victims with transitional justice remains,’ Dahal said in his <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/justice-delayed-justice-denied/">statement</a>. ‘We are proud of what the revolution achieved, but we will probe wartime excesses.’The fact that most other political leaders did not even bother to acknowledge the CPA anniversary showed that Dahal knows the sword of justice hangs over his head. With Western backing for the transitional process not as vigorous as it once was, he knows he just has to keep on saying the right things.The CPA pledged to ‘investigate human rights violations and those involved in crimes against humanity’. With every year that goes by, it looks less and less likely that will happen. There are still more than <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16267#.YZxyclVBypo">2,000 people listed as missing</a>, and some of their families have waited two decades already to know whether they are dead or alive, or what happened to them.Many <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/1,334,3287">families of the disappeared</a> interviewed by this newspaper have said finding out the truth is more important than justice. This could also mean they do not expect the state to persecute known perpetrators, so they do not even ask for justice. But their anguish is heightened when they see war criminals in senior leadership positions, who never had to answer for their crimes.As Meenakshi Ganguly, South Asia director at <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/justice-delayed-justice-denied/">Human Rights Watch, said in a statement issued jointly with Amnesty International, the International Commission of Jurists and TRIAL International</a> on 21 November: ‘State officials’ reluctance to investigate and prosecute such serious crimes has exacerbated the suffering of victims, undermined the rule of law in post-conflict Nepal, and increased the risk of such violations in the future.’She went on to warn: ‘If justice is continually denied in Nepal, perpetrators of these international crimes committed during the conflict will be prosecuted abroad under international jurisdiction.’

Toothless Commissions

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141144/636d00c69c7e80680e0a35f6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1530" height="1018"/><figcaption>Illustration: DIWAKAR CHETTRI</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s political headlines these days are mainly about the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/old-wine-in-old-bottle-in-nepal-politics/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">rift between K P Oli and Madhav Kumar Nepal </a>that split Nepal’s largest party, the UML. Somewhat sidelined is the role of Maoist chair Pushpa Kamal Dahal, who has been the behind-the-scenes operator.Dahal went under the nom de guerre Prachanda (‘Fierce One’) during the insurgency, was elected prime minister in 2008, and resigned after trying to replace the Nepal Army Chief. He himself is the first to admit that peacetime politics is not easy.Last month, he confessed to <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/who-gets-what/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">being under “tremendous stress”</a> because most of the 49 MPs of his Maoist Centre party wanted to be ministers in the coalition government. He added that politics in Nepal does not move in a linear fashion, but has a tendency to go off on an unpredictable tangent.“I have learnt a lesson that you cannot win if you try to manipulate others too much,” he told a party meeting in April in Chitwan.As he warms up to a theme, Dahal is prone to making such self-deprecating comments that are embarrassing or even damaging to himself. After the ceasefire in 2006, he was caught on video boasting to Maoist cadre that he had tricked the United Nations into believing his highly inflated figure for militia strength to bloat the budget for cantonments.His remarks in Chitwan in April were about how he infiltrated the UML by uniting his Maoist party with it, and the goal was to ultimately take over the Communist Party of Nepal (CPN). This was the first time he publicly admitted the real reason he agreed with Oli to unite their parties.In fact, divide-and-rule has long been Dahal’s way to gain and maintain power both during the conflict, after the ceasefire in democratic politics, and right up to backing <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/deuba-5/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Sher Bahadur Deuba of the Nepali Congress (NC) for prime ministership</a> earlier this year.Dahal and Oli took a bold decision with the Maoist-UML electoral alliance and unity in 2018 to form a strong two-thirds majority government. At first, the two were best buddies. But things started turning sour when Dahal suspected that Oli had no intention to hand over prime ministership half-way through the government’s term as per their “gentlemen’s agreement”.Since Oli was <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/making-up-is-hard-to-do/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">not on good terms with Madhav Kumar Nepal</a> and Bamdev Gautam, Dahal found an opening. Oli knew what Dahal was up to, and was also trying to outwit Dahal by using all kinds of tricks to stay on in power — including dissolving the Lower House in December 2020.After the Supreme Court reinstated the House, and Oli was on the back foot, Dahal formed an alliance with dissident UML members, the NC and the JSP to gather the numbers to unseat Oli.The end result was not just the disintegration of the CPN, but also the split in the UML with Madhav Nepal ultimately forming his own party, CPN (United Socialist) last month.The five party alliance is having <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/what-is-delaying-nepal-cabinet-expansion/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">difficulty expanding the Cabinet</a>, but Dahal is at the meetings negotiating portfolios to divide up the spoils.All these machiavellian moves have resulted in a peculiar political outcome —  the largest party in Parliament is now in the opposition and a weak opposition NC is leading the government.Dahal steered his former underground party to electoral victory in the first Constituent Assembly election in 2008, but lost in 2013. But even then, Dahal was trying to drive a wedge in the NC-UML coalition by supporting Oli’s candidature for prime ministership against the NC.He fell out with Oli and helped bring him down to form a coalition with the NC with an agreement to rotate government leadership with Deuba, and became prime minister for the second time. However, he soon ditched Deuba and formed the electoral alliance with Oli and the UML for the 2017 polls.All this behind the scenes skulduggery was not new to Dahal. What is new is that he now publicly admits that it does not work.This is the same Dahal who as a powerful post-conflict prime minister in 2009 sacked Nepal Army chief Gen Rukmangud Katuwal and replaced him with Gen Kul Bahadur Khadka. Dahal’s intention then was to divide and capture the Nepal Army which he had fought against as a guerrilla commander. But the move backfired, Dahal had to resign after only nine months as prime minister, and he and his party had to wait long years to stage a political comeback.He was succeeded by Madhav Kumar Nepal as prime minister, but Dahal was up to his old tricks and deposed Nepal by lending his party’s support to Jhalnath Khanal that brought an open rift in the UML. Distrust was growing within the Maoists about Dahal’s ways, and after facing a mutiny from Baburam Bhattarai, Mohan Baidya and Narayankaji Shrestha in 2011, he dumped Khanal and replaced him with Bhattarai.It is the story of Nepal that the same politicians play musical chairs, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/deubas-denouement/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">becoming prime minister multiple times</a>, and remaining in party leadership for life. For the past 30 years: the same names are in the headlines: Deuba, Nepal, Oli, Dahal, Bhattarai, Gautam, Khanal.“Dahal’s character is to aspire to be a singular and powerful Communist leader, that is why he sacrificed so many lives during the conflict, for him the end justifies the means,” explains political scientist Mahadev Sah. “He does not have any affinity for democracy. It is all about power, and how to attain and retain it.”Pushpa Kamal Dahal is still Prachanda. In 2007, he had told his former guerrillas in Chitwan’s Shaktikhor camp: “During the war we machine gunned our enemies, now we sit around a table and sip tea with them. The method may be different, but the goal is the same.”Today, Dahal’s role has been to handle the same personalities he once waged an armed struggle against, and after the war manipulated from behind the scenes. While undermining Oli for the past two years, he let Nepal do most of the talking. Now, he allows Deuba to be out front.  But his own party is now so weakened that it needs alliances to win elections.The leader of the Marxist-Leninist wing of the Nepal Communist Party C P Mainali knows Dahal well, and says he has let so many people down along the way that it has become a habit, and the only way he knows how to do politics.“He is used to working in the shadows, orchestrating things from behind, he cannot operate in the open, with transparency,” Mainali says. “What he says and what he does have always been completely different."This is true not just in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepals-post-breakup-politics/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">domestic politics</a>, but in Dahal’s dealings with leaders of neighbouring India and China, while in or out of power. He commented openly about his domestic political travails while abroad in controversial interviews. Or, he often boasted about support from leaders in Beijing or Delhi to bolster his domestic standing. In June, he said Delhi would be “comfortable” with him becoming prime minister again.After failing in his objective to capture the CPN, Dahal is now intent on being the foremost Communist leader in Nepal. He used Madhav Nepal and Khanal to depose Oli, and weaken the UML. So far, it is to Dahal’s credit and political instincts that his strategy has met with success.Dahal’s charm offensive seems to have worked on Nepal, who finds the Maoist leader a lot more trustworthy than Oli. It would not be surprising if the United Socialists and the Maoists combine forces in the 2023 elections.What Dahal is doing now is no different than what he was doing as Prachanda during the insurgency. Sometimes he cosied up to Mohan Baidya against Baburam Bhattarai, and at other times he won over Bhattarai to sideline Baidya.C P Mainali says: “That is always how he operated, to use one comrade against another, and keep himself as a key player.”Dahal has his eyes fixed on 2023, and is willing to revive the electoral cooperation that won his party 54 seats in local elections in 2017. But Mahadev Sah does not see that as likely. He says: “The Maoists could not remain united with the UML, so it is difficult to believe that an alliance with the Congress will stick. It may help Dahal exact revenge on Oli, but in fact, it may even be counterproductive to both parties and a loss of face for the Maoists.”

Pushpa Kamal Dahal is still Prachanda

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc2c9c7e80680e0a0b73jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"/><figcaption>Photo: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure><ul><li>Two years ago after going through a bad relationship, a 36-year-old Kathmandu-based doctor started getting suicidal thoughts. During the long months of lockdown, he would be on the rooftop and imagine jumping off to end it all. But before long he realised that he was causing self-harm, and sought help. He was diagnosed with depression, eight months into treatment he is rid of suicidal thoughts and is back to his outgoing ways.</li> <li>The bubbly young woman used to be the life of every party, but few of her friends and relatives realised what was going on inside her mind. As the pandemic hit, she started having violent thoughts about harming others and herself. The 22-year-old tried to deal with it herself, but two months ago she sought help from a mental health doctor. She was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and started treatment. Looking back, she advises others to also seek professional help in time.</li> <li>The young woman felt worthless, lacked confidence, avoided crowds and had self-inflicted cuts on her arm. Her inability to come in terms with her sexuality aggravated her sense of insecurity. When the pandemic foiled her plans, she blamed everything on herself, she felt irritated and uncertain, stopped attending virtual classes and her eating habits changed. She finally sought help for her depression and she is now under regular psychiatric counselling and medications. Grounding exercises in particular have helped her overcome self-harm and feelings of inadequacy. “I am okay now,” she says.</li></ul>As the pandemic turns lives upside down, there has also been a global <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/post-pandemic-mental-health-epidemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">outbreak of mental health disorders</a>, and Nepal has reported a rise in suicides. However, as these cases show, professional counselling and medication can save lives.Recoveries rarely make news, only suicides do.“Most of my patients who attempted suicide have gone on to lead normal lives after they get treatment, and oftentimes they look back to their mental health crisis as nothing more than a lapse of judgment,” says psychiatrist and researcher Rishav Koirala.There has been a sharp rise in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/have-suicides-increased-during-nepal-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">suicides in Nepal</a> since the Covid-19 pandemic in March 2020 and subsequent lockdowns. Nepal Police data shows that in the last 12 months, there have been 7,141 reported deaths due to suicides nationwide, up from 6,252 the year before.Do not shy away from seeking help. If you, or anyone you know, would like to speak to a trained mental health professional, please contact:TUTH Suicide Hotline: 9840021600Transcultural Psychosocial Organisation-Nepal Crisis Hotline: 1660 0102005Mental Health Helpline Nepal: 1660 0133666Centre for Mental Health and Counselling Nepal Toll-free: 16600185080, Hotline: 1145Koshish Toll-free helpline: 166001-22322 (Bagmati Province)Patan Hospital Helpline: 9813476123National Suicide Prevention helpline operated by Mental Hospital Lagankhel and TPO: 1166<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc2e9c7e80680e0a0b74jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="475"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>In a survey last year, <a href="http://www.tponepal.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Transcultural Psychosocial Organisation (TPO) Nepal</a> which works with mental health compared five years of suicide data for March-July to see if there was any change during the lockdowns in 2020 and 2021.The results are revealing: suicides have been increasing steadily at an average rate of 8.5% every year, but it spurted to 19.4% in the first four months of the lockdown. Researchers also conducted key informant interviews across Nepal, who reported witnessing an increase in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/suicide-watch/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">suicidal behaviours</a> in the community as well as health facilities.“We now have both quantitative and qualitative evidence that mental health problems have increased following the pandemic,” says TPO Nepal’s executive director Kamal Gautam. “And given that the majority of suicides are caused by psychological problems, we can say that Covid-19 has significantly contributed to its increase.”Mental health professionals have long been warning of an epidemic of psychological disorders following the Covid-19 crisis. They have reported an increase in anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), hypochondria, obsessive disorders and psychotic symptoms among the general population in the last two years.Economic collapse, job loss and slashed income due to the pandemic as well as <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/in-nepal-lockdown-a-domestic-violence-spike/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">increased domestic and sexual violence</a> and added workload during the lockdowns have all acted as contributing factors. In addition, those afflicted do not have normal social interactions that used to be a safety valve during more normal times.Moreover, many patients on treatment and medication have relapsed due to the limited access to health services, counselling and psychotropic drugs during the pandemic, and in many cases because of Covid phobia.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc319c7e80680e0a0b75jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1052" height="690"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>Up to 80% of suicides have mental health disorders as an underlying cause. A significant portion of cases are also a result of impulsive behaviour.Experts agree that the official <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-suicide-rate-vastly-underestimated/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">numbers on suicides are vastly underestimated</a> due to a lack of suicide registry. Official figures are based solely on police data and post-mortems, and because of stigma associated with mental health, many families also often refrain from revealing the actual cause of death.Official records also do not take into account <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepals-migrant-workers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">suicides of Nepali migrant workers overseas</a>, mainly Malaysia and South Korea. Similarly, suicides among those in the LGBTIQ community who have lost their limited sources of livelihood during the pandemic have been largely neglected.“Reported cases alone are not conclusive, but given that we now have a year and a half long trend and data, we have seen a significant increase in mental health disorders, and can assume that pandemic has played a crucial part in the rise in the number of suicides,” adds Rishav Koirala.<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/suicide" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">More than 700,000 people die by suicide</a> every year around the world, that is one in every 100 deaths -- more than HIV, malaria, breast cancer, or war and homicide. And for every suicide, there are many more who make attempts to end their lives.Nepal is among the countries with the highest suicide rates in the world and consistently ranks within the WHO’s top 10 list. The Nepal Health Research Council (NHRC)’s <a href="http://nhrc.gov.np/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Factsheet-Adults-1.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">National Mental Health Survey</a> published earlier this year found the prevalence of suicidality (current suicidal thoughts, lifetime suicidal attempt and future likelihood of suicidal thoughts) to be high at 7.2% among Nepalis.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc339c7e80680e0a0b76jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1464" height="752"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The first of its kind survey in Nepal interviewed 15,088 participants and was carried out before <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/coping-with-anxiety-in-new-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the pandemic</a> from January 2019 to January 2020. The study revealed that 10% of Nepal’s adult population had mental health problems in their lifetime with 4.3% experiencing some disorders at present.Mood disorders and neurotic and stress-related disorders were among the most common <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/tackling-nepals-mental-health-pandemic/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">psychological problems among Nepalis</a>. The prevalence of lifetime disorders was found the highest in Province 1 (13.9%), in the age group 40-49 years (13.3%) and among males (12.4%). As for current disorders, Bagmati scored the highest (5.9%) as well as those in the age group 40-49 years (6.3%) and females (5.1%).These figures correlate with Nepal’s suicide data of the past five years. Despite fewer attempts, men accounted for 57% of total suicides, against 43% of women. Among minors, however, more girls died by suicide, which experts ascribe to possible victimisation and a higher prevalence of borderline personality disorder among younger females.Suicide deaths are also disproportionately distributed across Nepal with Province 1 recording 65 deaths per 100,000 populations. Lumbini and Gandaki follow closely with 58 and 52 per 100,000 respectively. Traditionally neglected by the state and economically disadvantaged Karnali, Far West and Province 2 regions have lower suicide rates.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc369c7e80680e0a0b77jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2287" height="1816"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>More people are dying of suicides in urban centres such as Kathmandu Valley and Ilam district, which reported 32 and 38 suicide deaths respectively per 100,000 populations last year against Rautahat’s 18 and Humla’s 6.This is in direct contrast with the global trends where 77% of suicides occur in low and middle-income countries. Unemployment and poor economic condition have long been associated with a high risk of suicides, but only up to a certain point, as proven by recent data. Japan, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/dead-end-of-the-korean-dream/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">South Korea</a> and Hungary with their higher per capita GDPs have some of the highest suicide rates in the world.“Poorer nations have weaker education and health systems, which translates into delayed or even lack of diagnosis but poverty is not a sole factor for suicides,” says Kamal Gautam. “Suicide is complex and there are multiple factors at play which means a linear approach to prevention would be incomplete, it needs an integrated approach.”Addressing underlying mental health disorders is the most effective way to prevent suicides. This means increased awareness and education about psychological disorders, which in turn can help <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/all-in-the-family/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">reduce societal stigma</a>. An introduction to and discussion on mental health in the school curriculum can further sensitise the public.In addition to medication and counselling, societal structure and family dynamics is an important support system for individuals suffering from psychosis, trauma and depression. Telemedicine in particular has been essential in preventing self-harm during the pandemic-induced restrictions but mental health services need to be scaled up across the country.On the other hand, a strict regulation must be implemented on the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/suicide-by-pesticide-in-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">availability of pesticides</a>, an easy means of suicide for many. Access to alcoholic products must also be supervised with Nepalis known to self-medicate to cope with stress and trauma, in turn increasing the risk of self-harm and suicide.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110141124/636cfc399c7e80680e0a0b78jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1280" height="853"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>But most of all, analysing suicide attempts can be a powerful tool for prevention. On average, there are six attempts behind every suicide. Up to 80% of people with suicidal ideation reveal their intention to either a family member, friends or their doctors within a month before their attempt.“We forget that even before the pandemic suicide rates were very high in Nepal and while the pandemic might have added to the problem, the figures alone don’t mean anything if we fail to also study suicide attempts to find a stronger link between the prevalence and the contributing factors,” says Rabi Shakya, psychiatrist and director of Patan Academy of Health Sciences.He adds: “Historically, there have been more suicides after than during the crisis due to the long-term socioeconomic impacts. So we must start preparing for the pandemic of mental health problems including suicides post-Covid. Our health care workers must be trained and fanned out across the country.”Nepalis are not new to mental health problems induced by a crisis. The 10-year-long Maoist insurgency killed 17,000 people but many more continue to suffer from <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-mental-scars-of-violence/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">PTSD, depression, anxiety and distress</a>. A 2017 report published in the journal Lancet found as high as <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/stigma-and-silence-mental-health-nepal,3486" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">37.5% of the general public</a> had some form of psychological disorder.The <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/its-all-in-the-mind/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">2015 earthquake</a> further added to Nepal’s epidemic of mental disorders. Survivors who had narrow escapes or lost family members reported increased panic attacks, anxiety and trauma.But <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/editorial/the-republic-of-insomnia,3311" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflicts, disasters</a> and pandemics have shined a light on mental health with an increased national and foreign investment in prevention and management. With larger chunks of the population impacted, there is now more acceptance and the field is starting to get the priority it warrants.Says Rishav Koirala, WHO focal person for mental health post-2015 earthquake: “The best way to prevent suicides is to address underlying psychological disorders and crises, despite adding to the burden has helped normalise them because many more people can now relate and understand that they are treatable.”

Nepal sees spike in suicides during pandemic

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc489c7e80680e08bc14jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="452"/><figcaption>A narrow ridge that served as a helipad in Kalikot district back in 2004 when the Maoist War was on its peak. Photo: KUNDA DIXIT</figcaption></figure>Twenty-five years after the Maoist insurgency started on 13 February 1996, journalists who covered that war remember their own experiences reporting on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/end-of-war-is-not-peace/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the conflict</a>.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4b9c7e80680e08bc15jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>One of the many ruins left behind by a decade long Maoist War 1996-2006.</figcaption></figure>Shivering with fearWe reached Pandusen of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15778#.YCx9Si2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Bajura district</a> in September 2003. Men were ploughing a terrace with two oxen and sowing wheat. We took out our camera and tripod. But when the men saw us, they fled. Later one of them told us, “We are afraid of strangers. We thought you were soldiers.” He told us the army had come through and killed six people in the village, including Padam Bahadur Shahi.At Padam Bahadur’s house, relatives were in mourning. “He had gone to harvest paddy, he had done nothing wrong, ” his mother Koila told us, weeping. “They brought him here and hit him with rocks.”Padam’s father Gorakh Bahadur said the soldiers even kicked their baby grandson, injuring him. “They led my son away and I followed,” he told us. “They were beating him all the way, his teeth were scattered across the road, he was bleeding.”We climbed up the trail to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2027#.YCx9Ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Martadi</a>. Within half-an-hour we were at Ramlal Damai’s house. He had been killed with a bullet in his head, and his relatives were wailing as they removed his body from the house. Further up in the village of Angaupani, we came across a whole village in mourning for six men who had been killed by soldiers the previous day.We reached Kolti airfield where 12 police had recently been killed. Nearby, the army had killed another 10 villagers accusing them of being Maoists. A couple was in shock after their children aged 10 and five were killed after a Maoist pipe bomb they found in the forest exploded. All around us there was nothing but death and destruction.A year later, I went to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/a-battered-future,3218" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kailali</a> and Bardia which had the highest number of disappeared during the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/the-lingering-trauma-of-war/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">conflict</a>. Their relatives are still waiting for truth and justice.In war, people take to guns. But ultimately it is the gun that takes people away.Mohan Mainali<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc4e9c7e80680e08bc16jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="669"><figcaption>A father trying to stop his young son who had decided to join the Maoists. Khotang 2004.</figcaption></figure>Families torn apartIn February 2000, we travelled to the Maoist heartland of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12393#.YCx-nC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=6164#.YCx-vC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2928#.YCx-yC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jajarkot</a>. Along the way, we noticed police sentry posts located on treetops for safety. The policemen were playing carom with guns slung on their shoulders. We knew we were entering a war zone. In Libang, we visited Maoist prisoners in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/the-spark-that-lit-the-Maoist-revolution,2870" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rolpa</a> district jail. They spoke about being innocent, framed and tortured by the police. We interviewed a Maoist leader, Lokendra Bista. He told us the revolution was actually in response to state violence, but he said the resolution of the conflict was only possible through dialogue, not through violence.In Khalanga of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=328#.YCx-ty2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Rukum</a>, there was also a lot of fear. Many who had been driven out or tortured by the Maoists had fled to the district headquarters for safety. We came across children cooking by themselves. One 11-year-old was kneading dough, but he wept as he told us: “The police killed our father and mother, I feel like drinking the blood from their hearts.”Four years later, we went to eastern Nepal. By this time, the army had joined <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=10616#.YCx-lC2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the war</a> and Maoist influence had spread throughout the country. One indelible memory of that time was the farewell of a distraught father in Chisapani of Khotang for his ninth grader student son, Kiran Bista.In the video, the father clutches the boy’s legs and does not want to let go. The boy tries to placate his father: “Don’t do this, Dad. My friends all have fathers. We are all going to war, please don’t do this.”A confident speaker, Kiran later told us later on camera: “I am joining out of my own free will because I have understood that we have to fight for our country.”When we got to Mugu, local Maoists detained us for 22 hours. But it was not till we got to Mudbara of Doti that we found out just how badly the war had affected children. The army had attacked a school in September 2004 after they found out the Maoists had gone there to recruit. Six of the Maoists were killed, but so were four students.“I didn’t even know I had been hit, I was unconscious when they took me to hospital,” said one student Dharma Bhurtel. Her mother, Krishna Maya, broke down as she told us of the pain at seeing her only daughter wounded.Bishnu Prasad was hiding inside a classroom with other students, when soldiers kicked the door in and started shooting. He was hit, and paralysed. “I like to go to school, but I cannot walk now.”Teachers were on the frontlines of the war, and nearly 220 of them were killed by both sides. “After the war started, we were caught in the crossfire. Whichever side fires the guns it is us teachers who get killed,” Ram Bahadur Raut principal of the Chisapani Secondary School in Khotang told us then.Dhruba Basnet<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc529c7e80680e08bc17jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="518"><figcaption>Many Maoist cadre associated carrying guns with being powerful and empowered.</figcaption></figure>Power of the gun<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=12319#.YCx_3C2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Children</a> would follow us everywhere. They were very loyal to the Maoist party. Even 10-year-old <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=13190#.YCx_5i2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">children</a> had been so effectively brainwashed that they would speak in Maoist jargon, saying “When the revolution is successful, we will be also be rich and powerful.” And they believed it.We went to homes, and heard families talk about the fear of both the police and guerrillas. The Maoists had ordered every household to contribute at least one person to attend their revolutionary meetings and listen to speeches. We attended those cultural programs, as well. The Maoists cadre were full of enthusiasm and energy, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=bead8272edd0f2143&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/still-singing-and-dancing/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiYw6ix8O_uAhUy83MBHRiACWYQFjAAegQIBhAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw06kcWD1ctXQGTrve9YQNmE" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">singing and performing revolutionary dances</a> about the liberation of the proletariat. Villagers watched with interest, but there was fear in their eyes.The armed Maoists looked like they were really empowered. I asked some of them how it felt to be carrying a gun? They used to reply: “I feel powerful, now no one can do anything to me.”Amrita Lamsalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzHLTaNnSDo&amp;feature=youtu.beThe smell of fearIn October 2004, we took a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1890#.YCybTI8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">helicopter from Surkhet to Kalikot</a>, flying over the mountains of Dailekh and the Karnali River. On the left we could see Kotbada, where a year previously the Royal Nepal Army had <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2017/02/13/tears-of-joy-and-sorrow-in-kalikot/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">killed 36 workers building an airfield</a>, mistaking them to be Maoist guerrillas. We were in the heart of the conflict zone to understand how the war was affecting ordinary people in the Karnali.<a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="http://himalaya.socanth.cam.ac.uk/collections/journals/nepalitimes/pdf/Nepali_Times_219.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Kalikot was remote then</a>, as the highway was still being built. At the end of the first day’s walk in Pili, we saw small children slither down from tree tops and scamper off to the village. We found out they were Maoist ‘wholetimers’ on sentry duty.The local Maoists held a village gathering that evening and paraded us on the stage, accusing us of being military spies and “royal mongrels”. The language they used during interrogation that night was straight out of the Khmer Rouge. Two years later, 55 soldiers were killed in a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=721#.YCyBmi2B3R0" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Maoist attack in Pili</a>.Finally let off the next day, we were detained again in Jubitha by 12-13 year-olds with guns. They could not read, and held our press passes upside down. “We are now in the armed struggle phase of our revolution,” said one youngster.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc559c7e80680e08bc18jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="467"><figcaption>Comrade Mukti in Kalikot in 2004.</figcaption></figure>Along the trail, we passed a group of women guerrillas who gave us red salutes and gripped us in firm handshakes. It was a surprise to see such empowered young women in what was at that time, a part of western Nepal most steeped in patriarchy.As we got closer to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/No-peace,432" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jumla</a> amidst the spectacular scenery of golden terraces of ripening paddy, the blue-green Tila River and the snow-capped Kanjiroba in the distance, there were signs of war damage. Ruins of destroyed homes, charred buildings, empty silent streets. There was no laughter from children, they peered at us from behind upstairs windows, no one talked to strangers. You could smell the fear in the air.Kunda Dixit<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111011110/636ccc589c7e80680e08bc19jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="362"><figcaption>Baburam Tamang, one of the 18 Maoist cadre massacred in Ramechap in 2003.</figcaption></figure>The National Human Rights Commission was sending a team to investigate the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=4639#.YCylnY8zbAU" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">massacre of 18 Maoist cadre in Doramba</a> of Ramechhap on 17 August 2003. It included former Chief Justice Krishna Jung Rayamajhi, former Attorney General Bhim Bahadur Bista, forensic physician Harihar Awasti, advocate Hari Phuyal and myself. We reached Doramba 11 days after the killings and found the fresh graves.Local Maoists had gathered at the home of Yubaraj Moktan. The army encircled the house, and those who could, escaped. The others were rounded up, and were led off up towards the Sailung forest with hands tied behind their backs. The army unit was led by Major Ram Mani Pokhrel. Down in the village, people heard calls for help, and then gunshots.The villagers helped us exhume the bodies, and Harihar Awasti went down to examine them one by one. He would dictate the details, which I noted down and shared with Hari Phuyal. The stench of rotting bodies was overpowering. Villagers would recognise the faces, and point to them, saying: “That is Bishnu Maya. That is Lila.” Most had been shot at point blank range in the forehead.A young man handed me a 35mm film roll. We developed it, and found images of the bodies had been thrown over the edge after being killed. And there was a photograph of a local man named <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18623" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Baburam Tamang</a>, the only one without a gunshot in the forehead, but in the arm. It looked like he had bled to death.Villagers told us that night they had heard someone up the mountain call out for help “Ama, ama.” But they were too afraid to go up and check. We think it was a dying Baburam Tamang.The villagers had later buried the bodies, wrapping them in cloth and flag. Nearby was a pile of half-burnt personal effects of those who had been killed. Among them, I found a notepad belonging to Bishnu Maya Thapa Magar, one of those who had been killed.Kanak Mani Dixit

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