<figure><img width="1050" height="655" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914110/636ba4659c7e80680e073666jpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Prime Minister K P Oli launching the sale of shares for the Trisuli B hydroelectric project in March 2019, the first in the government’s Nepal’s Water, Nepalis’ Investment initiative. Energy Minister Barshaman Pun is on the right. Photo: PMO</figcaption></figure>Nepal’s hydropower sector, already stymied <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-hydroelectricity-sector-gets-covid-19-shock/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwjFu_bFg__qAhUF_XMBHfAqAvUQFjAEegQIAxAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw0B_tYwmRm1tHBUVUnLifjc" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.google.com/url?client%3Dinternal-element-cse%26cx%3D011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4%26q%3Dhttps://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-hydroelectricity-sector-gets-covid-19-shock/%26sa%3DU%26ved%3D2ahUKEwjFu_bFg__qAhUF_XMBHfAqAvUQFjAEegQIAxAC%26usg%3DAOvVaw0B_tYwmRm1tHBUVUnLifjc&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1596609376589000&amp;usg=AFQjCNEMkbfjV65U5ipi9fjYZ4myWul1Bg">by decades of construction delays </a>and budget constraints, is seeing its flagship Nepal’s Water, Nepalis’ Investment initiative pushed back further due to this year’s destructive monsoon rains and the economic fallout of the COVID-19 crisis.The initiative was part of the government’s ambitious masterplan to generate 15,000MW in ten years from 21 hydroelectric projects, and raise the income of Nepali shareholders in the process.“Nepal will have an energy surplus and see its economy grow, while the projects will bring the public quick rewards and allow them to prosper as well,” said the Energy Minister while launching the initiative in March last year.  <figure><img width="1500" height="839" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914110/636ba4689c7e80680e073667jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Some of the proposed projects under the Nepal’s Water, Nepalis’ Investment which will offer shares to the public to invest in: 1st row, left-right: Ghunsa Khola (72MW), Simbuwa Khola (70MW), Tamakosi-5 (96MW) Upper Trisuli 3-B (27MW). 2nd Row: Kimathangka Arun (482MW), Upper Arun (725MW), Ikhuwa (30MW), Arun 4 (372MW) 3rd row: Budi Gandaki Gwar Khola (60MW), Budi Gandaki Prok 1 (100MW), Budi Gandaki Prok 2 (240MW) Budi Gandaki A (75MW)</figcaption></figure>It was a bold target and a challenging task to sell shares to the public, but it was an attempt to make up for lost time on power projects delayed by the 2015 earthquake and the Indian Blockade. However, no one could have predicted that the country would face an even more serious crisis this year with the global pandemic.While landslides and flash floods this monsoon as well as the COVID-19 lockdown have taken a year off construction schedules, the global economic downturn is also expected to reduce the public's ability to invest in shares and attract foreign joint ventures in the hydropower projects. Even so, CEO Chhabiraj Pokharel of the Hydropower Investment and Development Company Limited (HIDCL) says the plan is to start construction on all 21 projects in the next four years so as to meet the intrim target of generating 3,500MW in five years.Despite his optimism, only one of the projects, the Upper Trisuli-3 (60MW), which went into operation in November, has been commissioned in the past year-and-half since the initiative was launched amidst much fanfare by Prime Minister Oli.The 111MW Rasuwagadi and 57MW Upper Sanjen are nearing completion, and have released shares to employees. Another project is halfway, but the other 14 have not gotten off the ground.  <figure><img width="1631" height="550" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914110/636ba46b9c7e80680e073668jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Rasuwagadhi Project site (111MW) on the Trisuli River, where construction has begun. </figcaption></figure>Even though many of these projects were delayed due to existing bureaucratic and technical hurdles, the government is blaming the COVID-19 crisis. Says Madhu Prasad Bhetuwal, convenor of the Nepal’s Water, Nepalis’ Investment initiative: “All the projects had been pushed back by six months already due to the COVID-19 crisis, and another six months because of the rainy season.”Nevertheless, the government’s plan is to begin construction on Upper Arun (725MW), Kimathangka Arun (482MW), Phukot Karnali (492MW), Tamakosi-5 (96MW), Chainpur Seti (201MW), and Jagadulla (157MW) as soon as the monsoon is over. Of these, Tamakosi-5 is putting shares up for sale to the public, now that its engineering and design work is complete. The modalities for the Rs33 billion Bheri-Babai Diversion Multipurpose Program are also complete. This project will irrigate 51,000ha in the eastern Tarai, while also generating 48.6MW of electricity. Five percent of the shares of this project will be open to local people, Karnali provincial government will have 20%, the project itself will have 26%, and the central government will have majority shares of 49%.  <figure><img width="1500" height="834" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914110/636ba46e9c7e80680e073669jpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Bheri-Babai tunnel that will irrigate 51,000ha in the western Tarai, and generate 48MW of electricity.</figcaption></figure>The government’s plan is that 51% of the Nepal’s Water, Nepalis’ Investment initiative will be funded by the government, while 49% will have the public’s investment. Of this, 70% will be loan financed, while 30% will be paid for by investment in equities. Of that 30%, a little more than half will be bought up by the government while 49% will be public.Government agencies are also being directed to allocate funds for the initiative. The Employees’ Provident Fund, Citizens Investment Fund, HIDCL, Nepal Telecom, National Insurance Institute, Nepal Police, Nepal Army and the Armed Police Force have all been directed to invest Rs1-6 billion per year in the initiative. The total cost of the 21 projects is estimated to exceed Rs700 billion -- which is equal to more than half the annual national budget of Nepal. Banks and financial institutions have a 10% ceiling on hydropower investment in their total portfolio, and this is enough to only fund 50MW production every year. This means the most serious obstacle to the initiative will now be the funding crunch. This has been exacerbated by the fall in government revenue due to the pandemic, as seen in this<a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-unveils-covid-19-budget/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwjFu_bFg__qAhUF_XMBHfAqAvUQFjAFegQIARAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw0IyIrqaRrWGvlcvL74WQUS" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.google.com/url?client%3Dinternal-element-cse%26cx%3D011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4%26q%3Dhttps://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-unveils-covid-19-budget/%26sa%3DU%26ved%3D2ahUKEwjFu_bFg__qAhUF_XMBHfAqAvUQFjAFegQIARAC%26usg%3DAOvVaw0IyIrqaRrWGvlcvL74WQUS&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1596609376589000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF97_uq5VhqvzbTa4EA79zdsQsuyQ"> fiscal year’s budget.</a> The government could rely on foreign loans and multilateral creditors, but they are also affected by the global recession.Normal hydropower regulations only allow for shares to be released once construction is half-complete. Under the provisions of the initiative, shares and IPOs (Initial Public Offerings) can be released once 10% of project funding is used.  <figure><img width="600" height="677" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110914110/636ba4759c7e80680e07366ajpeg.jpg" alt=""><figcaption>Construction site of the Upper Trisuli 3B (37MW), one of the projects delayed by the COVID-19 lockdown.</figcaption></figure>Convenor Bhetuwal says construction of the 21 hydropower projects were deliberately staggered, keeping in mind the rise in nationwide energy demand. He adds: “Generating 3,500MW at once will lead to a glut in the market, may overwhelm consumers and waste energy, that is why projects are going into production in a phase-wise manner.” This is a legitimate concern, because national demand for electricity has dropped during he lockdown, prompting Nepal Electricity Authority Director Kul Man Ghising to call out the government on its U-turn on encouraging demand for electricity consumption, <a href="https://www.google.com/url?client=internal-element-cse&amp;cx=011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4&amp;q=https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-takes-3-steps-back-on-e-cars/&amp;sa=U&amp;ved=2ahUKEwjm3tT5g__qAhWd8HMBHRiHBzkQFjAAegQIBRAC&amp;usg=AOvVaw1WVWH_378BaBmM7FzPie46" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.google.com/url?client%3Dinternal-element-cse%26cx%3D011870630917993763279:opm7uqsat-4%26q%3Dhttps://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-takes-3-steps-back-on-e-cars/%26sa%3DU%26ved%3D2ahUKEwjm3tT5g__qAhWd8HMBHRiHBzkQFjAAegQIBRAC%26usg%3DAOvVaw1WVWH_378BaBmM7FzPie46&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1596609376589000&amp;usg=AFQjCNHFj7LD-yfyCCJ0ZeVWqLFX6NH2zw">including a hike on e-vehicle taxes. </a>

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Generating electricity (and cash) for Nepalis

<figure><img width="680" height="453" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110912114/636b8a0a9c7e80680e06b21bjpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Nepal Police making an arrest using multifunctional rescue and arrest device during the lockdown. Photo: RSS</figcaption></figure>The calls started coming at 10:30 at night on 30 March, a week into the coronavirus lockdown. It was Jib Narayan Chaudhary, and he sounded frantic. Knowing I was a journalist, the day labourer was calling for help from the Koteswor traffic police office where he and 22 other co-workers were being held by police who would not let them travel to their homes in Saptari district. He said he had a police travel permit.I called the Koteswor police station, and the duty in-charge Sudarshan Thapa said: “People do not understand that lockdown means lockdown. You cannot leave the Valley.”<a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/walking-3-days-to-get-home/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Walking 3 days to get home</a>, Sanjay MishraIn fact, Thapa said the rules had changed that day, and a permit did not suffice anymore. Travellers also needed a yellow card from the CDO office. Chaudhary and his friends did finally get the card from the Lalitpur District Office and got home on 2 April, after surviving on dry noodles and little money during their long bus journey.“If we had known that the government would extend the lockdown, we would have made other arrangements. It is always poor people like us who suffer the most in any national emergency,” Chaudhary told me.We were at the Lalitpur District Office (LDO) in Man Bhawan where there were many kinds of people caught in a lurch by the change in travel rules. Jit Jung Rana Magar from Sindhupalchowk, looked fed up. He needed to leave because his wife is alone with an infant and a two-year-old daughter. “I have to be there for them. The office asked me to get all the related documents yesterday but now they need more documents,” Rana Magar said, looking lost. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/lockdown-guidelines/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lockdown guidelines</a>In a corner stood 31-year-old Chinna Maya Tamang who had just lost her 65-year-old mother in Dolalghat that morning. “I have to go home for my mother’s death rites, I don’t know what will happen with the new rules,” she said. By 10 in the morning, it had turned into a crowd at the LDO, while the policemen at the gate tried to separate them for physical distancing. Some were screaming to allow them in, others shouted through their masks to be allowed in. Suresh Thapa, the policeman was trying, not successfully, to calm the crowd. He said: “My body already feels sick. We also fear for our families, but it's our job to follow the rules.” The people here needed to travel for family emergencies, or because unlike the better-off they had run out of money and food. To travel during the lockdown they needed a permit, and the rules had just been changed. No one seemed to know what the rules were.“Confusion, confusion, confusion, why can’t there be an effective system?” fumed Rana Magar. “Sometimes, they say they need white pass, sometimes yellow and sometimes just an application.” <a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/lockdown-limbo-in-no-mans-land/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Lockdown limbo in no man's land</a>, Deepak KharelWhile some people continue to walk around at all times of day, others are snared by the ominously-named ‘Multifunctional Rescue and Arrest Device’ and locked up for three hours on the street. Others seem to be able to wangle travel permits fairly easily, while others pay vegetable truck drivers to hide in the back.The lockdown is supposed to end on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/nepal-covid-19-lockdown-extended-till-7-april/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tuesday 7 April at midnight</a>  and may be extended further. The desperation of ordinary people trapped in the city is greater than ever, and so is the confusion about what is allowed and what is not. Is it ok to walk out to shop for food? Can I head out to the pharmacy? What if I have a medical emergency?  I called the emergency hotline by dialling 100 just to clarify. “You can leave the house in the morning and evening, maybe just for an hour,” said the operator. But the police do not seem to know that. Maiya Nepal, 60, is a household help and was detained by police while shopping for groceries at 8:30 in the morning. “Thank god, I wasn’t asked to become a chicken for hours,” she said, alluding to the practice of police punishing people by making them do sit-ups in the middle of the street. “the police need to be sure about the rules and not punish us.”LOCKDOWN DO’S AND DONT’S As far as we could figure out from official sources, here is a list of what is allowed and not allowed during the lockdown. This list is not exhaustive, nor is there any guarantee that police themselves know the rules.According to a statement published by the Home Ministry:  <ol><li>The responsibility to ensure essential supplies is with local governments.</li><li>Everyone should maintain at least a 1m gap while visiting a store. </li><li>The ward chief to head a committee made up of police to decide on maintaining essential services.</li><li>The committee should trace daily wagers and support them with provisions.</li><li>Shops to create daily packages of essential items, depending on size of families. </li><li>Charities and social welfare groups should coordinate with ward office and the committee. </li><li>Organisations and individuals not allowed to raise money using the lockdown as excuse. </li><li>Double distribution prohibited. </li><li>The Ministry of Finance, Commerce and Health should ensure the supply of essential items and distribute them evenly to all. </li></ol>Statement by the Metropolitan City District offices:<ol><li>Funeral vehicles do not need permits. Except for security vehicles, public and private transport should be off the roads.</li><li>Only essential services like health, security, food supply, water supply, dairy, electricity, telecommunication, news and information, customs, quarantine, waste management will be in operation. All others to stay home.</li><li>People can still go out, but only for urgent medical reasons or to buy food.</li><li>Home delivery services will be given permits for Kathmandu Valley.</li><li>Department stores will be allowed to open for ‘certain hours’ in the morning and evening. </li><li>No vehicles or persons will be allowed to leave Kathmandu Valley unless it is a family emergency like deaths or pregnancies.  </li><li>All others need verification from municipalities and have it attested by the district offices.  </li></ol>Rules for vehicle permits: <ol><li>The application should be signed in red ink. </li><li>A clear description of why the permit is needed.</li><li>Duration of the permit.</li><li>Name and designation should be clearly mentioned.</li><li>The ward office and police must approve the application. </li><li>According to the subject and circumstances different colour permits will be issued. </li><li>Local authorities can over-ride permit if it is misused.</li></ol>Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/home-health-care-during-a-lockdown/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Home health care during lockdown</a>, Alisha Sijapati

Confusion persists about lockdown rules

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

Nepal’s historic youth dissensus

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

"It is hard to feel neutral"

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

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

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

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"It is hard to feel neutral"

Gopal Yonjan’s immortal songs

The accidental journalist